The Sound of Silence

Zane and the festival’s audio technicians huddle around the amplifier, and Tenney leans toward Logan, unsure whether to keep playing. Franklin’s Main Street is crowded with festival-goers and holiday shoppers. Without sound through the speakers, though, people are drifting away, and Tenney’s apology doesn’t stop them.

Zane rushes onstage with the technicians, telling Tenney and Logan to hang tight while they chase down the problem. Worried they’ll lose the audience, Tenney launches back into “Cold Creek Christmas,” playing loud and fast. Logan looks surprised, but he grabs his guitar and joins in. As their unplugged voices grow stronger, the crowd edges closer to listen.

Just as the song builds, feedback screeches through the speakers again, stunning them into silence and drawing groans from the crowd. Zane explains that a cable has gone bad somewhere. The crew waves Tenney and Logan offstage to track it down.

Backstage, Tenney watches the crowd grow thinner while Zane works on the cable. The festival manager delivers worse news. The cable is nearly fixed, but with the delay and tight schedule ahead, Tenney and Logan have only fifteen minutes left of their thirty-minute slot.

The duo hurries back out and opens with “Winter Wonderland,” then “Carolina Highway,” a rollicking, catchy original Dad wrote that gets people dancing. Next comes “The Nerve,” a duet Tenney and Logan wrote together, but Tenney forgets to cue Logan and he scrambles to catch up. She blurts an apology, and the two recover, trading verses as the audience cheers.

A young girl near the front requests “Reach the Sky,” but Zane and the festival manager are already motioning them to wrap up. Tenney leans into the mic to mention their albums for sale, but someone cuts it before she can finish, and backstage music kicks in. Tenney and Logan trudge off, and though Zane gives them a pat on the shoulder, Tenney can’t shake how bad she feels about disappointing a fan.

Portia finds them backstage and reads the frustration on Tenney’s face. Portia grumbles she looks mopier than a hound dog in the rain, and Logan points out at least they played well, sparking tension until Portia insists they handled the sound catastrophe remarkably. While Dad and Zane haul the guitars back to the van, Portia leads them to a coffee shop up the street. She treats them to hot chocolate in tall, striped cups at a rickety corner table. Touring means some sets shine and others don’t, Portia reminds them. All they can do is give each show their best.

Tenney brings up Belle Starr’s belief that a tour’s first show sets the tone for the rest, but Portia waves the worry away, saying any performance could be their best yet, so long as they look out for each other. Out in the crisp December air, she gives them each a hug. She refuses to wish them luck, insisting they already have the talent, grit, and determination to succeed. She only asks that they send photos and remember what she told them. Walking back to the van, Tenney repeats Portia’s words to herself, hoping their next show will be their best yet.