A Song for the Season

Setting the Tone

Zane parks the van near Franklin’s main stage and tells Tenney and Logan to bring only their guitars, since the venue already has a drum kit for Logan. Franklin’s cobblestone downtown is decked out for the holidays, roped off and lined with white-tented craft and food stalls, and the crowd is already thick before the festival has even begun. Zane calls it one of the festival’s biggest music days. A four-piece Irish folk band blasts a jig version of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” as the family threads through the crowd. Zane leads them to a roped-off entrance, flashes a badge at the security guard, and waves them in.

Backstage is a giant tent full of musicians tuning up, winding down, and chatting. The stage manager checks her clipboard and confirms Tenney and Logan go on in about thirty minutes. Dad jokes that theirs is the only band launching its first tour ever, and his wink does nothing to settle Tenney’s nervous stomach.

As the crowd cheers the Irish band’s closing number, Tenney and Logan warm up in their coats, running vocal scales and reviewing their trickiest transitions until they’re in sync on “Cold Creek Christmas,” a holiday classic still played on the radio. Portia arrives, wrapped in a tasseled wool cape, saying she couldn’t miss her favorite duo’s first show. She teases that the song sounds awfully familiar. Tenney admits how nervous she is, and Portia hugs her and wishes them fun. Zane calls that they’re on in five minutes.

The stage manager introduces Tenney and Logan as two of the youngest, most talented musicians on the festival stage. The crowd cheers as the two trade a fist bump and climb the steps. Tenney’s nerves turn to excitement the moment she spots the audience. Belle Starr’s old superstition flickers through her mind: the first show sets the tone for the rest of the tour. She wishes everyone happy holidays, and Logan’s joke about warming up the crowd draws a laugh. They count off into “Cold Creek Christmas,” weaving guitar and vocals together, and Tenney can hardly believe she’s standing at center stage on her first tour stop as she switches on her microphone.

Just as Tenney opens her mouth to sing, an earsplitting ZINGGGG rips through the speakers.

Tenney freezes, silencing her guitar mid-strum. Her quick “Sorry” into the mic only draws a louder ZINNNNNG that sends people in the crowd clapping their hands over their ears. Logan flips both microphones off, and Tenney follows his lead. “Give it a second, then switch it back on,” he whispers, but when they try again, his mic gives back only silence, and hers stays just as dead. She glances offstage for help and finds no one there, unsure whether to keep standing or walk off as their first real show threatens to collapse.

Panic floods through Tenney. Audio trouble is every performer’s worst nightmare, since the smallest glitch can sink a show and no one can hear a note without amplification. It has happened before at more casual performances, leaving her standing onstage feeling painfully awkward while technicians scrambled to fix it. She does not want that to happen here.