He stepped up to the mic, the feedback chirping like a nervous bird. He didn’t start with his upbeat radio covers. Instead, he let a slow, melodic strum ring out—the unmistakable opening chords of Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be.”
The smell of stale beer and floor wax always hung heavy in The Soundboard, a dive bar where the stage was barely six inches off the ground. Edwin McCain - I'll Be (Live)
When the final chord vibrated into silence, there was a beat of absolute stillness before the applause broke. It wasn't the polite clap of a bored audience; it was the roar of people who had just been reminded of what it feels like to be human. He stepped up to the mic, the feedback