Silver Heir

Many years ago, there was a band. They were a lot like your band, or your friend's band. There were four of them, they made music together in the mountains and they had a great time.

But they were kids and like many kids, they could not finish the assignment. The songs were never good enough (for them), the recordings were never good enough (for them), and frankly, they were not good live (for anyone). They heard the music in their heads, but when it came out the other end it was mangled, tortured, and self-conscious. It was a band only mothers and girlfriends could love.

The years passed and the idealistic youngsters turned into "professionals." They married and were fruitful. They learned to finish assignments. But they did not hear the music anymore.

Then a great plague came over the land, and I don't mean to make light of it: it was a great plague, wasn't it? And one of the professionals thought: what am I doing here? And he heard the music again. And he brought the music to the other professionals, and they heard the music too. And they became as kids again, but kids with adult superpowers, like not letting the perfect be the enemy of the good, and holding each other accountable.

Hindenburg Variations is what they made.