In what felt like the blink of an eye, Baylee Littrell felt his confidence waver as he second guessed his career as a songwriter.

Littrell said when he was a contestant on American Idol in 2025, the experience left him unsure if he had chosen the right profession. Although he showcased his songwriting on the singing competition television series, it would be the singles he released in 2026 that gave him the confidence he needed to continue.

“So Be It” was written and co-produced by Littrell, becoming the perfect song to represent a new era of his musical journey. Embracing uncertainty became a recurring theme when he released his second single of the year, “I’ve Had Enough”.

Despite being written during a particularly vulnerable time in his life, there was no hesitation in its creation. He was wrestling with ideas of what to do next in his life, and let the lyrics free him from his personal struggles. Once the song came together, its completion was a rewarding experience unlike any he had felt before.

“‘I've Had Enough’ was my personal message to the world,” he said. “If anything, I wanted people to finally know the real Baylee. I believe that ‘I've Had Enough’ finally showcased that.”

Since its release, Littrell can look at “I’ve Had Enough” from a new perspective. He can hear his former self, pained and seemingly losing a fight. Now, he realizes that it was worth fighting for. His outlook stems from performing the song every night on a recent run of The Burning Up All Over Again Tour. Night after night, it was pure enjoyment for him.

“This experience opening for the Jonas Brothers was the most fun I’ve ever had performing,” he said. “My band was absolutely incredible as well, which made the flow of tour so much easier. The Jonas Brothers run is a tour that I will cherish for the rest of my days without question.”

His latest single, “Web of Lies”, is by far his favorite song of his career. It’s the one he has been patiently waiting to release all year, and said that it is the “true centerpiece” of his upcoming album. It sets the narrative for what’s to come next year.

“I call “Web of Lies” a happy sad song, but it’s really a song of empowerment during a breakup,” he said.

These three singles are the first of many steps for Littrell to show his audience his true form. He has wanted to find the courage to create authentic, vulnerable music that connects with anyone who listens, and it took a series of questionable moments to give him the answers he needed. Now, there is no doubt that he is, and always will be, a songwriter.

Photo courtesy of Lora Moore

Within 48 hours of being invited onto a Toronto stage by Zach Bryan to perform “Heading South”, Lucas Mason had reached millions of people online and the attention of major record labels. There was one issue, however: he had no original music to showcase.

That attention was the push he needed. He immediately got to work on writing songs and found the pressure of needing to share something slowly dissipating. The first few songs he wrote brought forth a level of excitement he hadn’t anticipated, and after dozens of songs, he found his first single.

The practice of songwriting led him to understand what type of storyteller he wanted to be. He quickly learned that fiction did not bring out his best writing, and pivoted to subjective storytelling.

“When I started writing things about me, things got a little bit better because I could get more personal,” he said. “I could get the actual, real details to make the art feel more human than to try and pretend to be something else.”

Once he got a better understanding of the songwriting, he also understood who he wanted to write with. He found it difficult to portray an emotion through lyrics with co-writers or producers who had no connection to him, and turned to his brother Ethan instead. Alongside his contributions, Harry Hannah, Olivia Johnston, Chris Boerner, Dom Louis and Taylor Abram helped craft his self-titled debut album.

The 11-track album mirrors the 19-year-old artist's formative moments on his path into adulthood. He knew he had many stories to tell, and decided to explore themes of young love, loss, nature escapes, industry pressures, mental health and the importance of friends and family.

“It’s hard to have one specific story to tell because things have changed so much,” he said. “I feel like through that it has a similar message; the way things change as a young adult and the feelings that you can feel and the pressures you can feel. I love that you can see as a young adult this one big feeling of growing up.”

In addition to writing or co-writing every song, Mason decided to produce the album as well. The brothers turned their basement into their own studio and used their mom’s walk-in closet as the vocal booth. He learned the intricacy of microphones and realized he preferred the creative control of being outside of a studio. No time or budget restraints; just the exploration of trying something for the first time. And the second time. And sometimes the third time. But watching it all come together in the end was worth the challenges.

He credits Ethan for changing his look on songwriting. He transitioned from starting a song with an idea of a lyric to creating a melody first and adding lyrics second. A perfect example of that is the instrumental track on the album, “Hurricane Ridge”. Inspired by a family hiking trip, Ethan wrote the beginning riff and Lucas was immediately in awe of it.

“When we were hiking up one mountain, it started raining halfway through and became a storm at the very top,” he said. “That’s how it sounds at the end of the song; things get chaotic and burst into this one beautiful note at the end. It’s symbolic of that but it’s also symbolic of a journey of being a young person and chasing dreams. It gets really hard the closer you get to the top, but then you can get to this beautiful moment once you get there where everything stands still.”

He attempted to add lyrics to the riff, eventually writing “Thrift Store Dress” instead, and decided the melody was perfect as-is. The final version was tracked in a day, with Ethan on guitar, flute and bass, Lucas on harmonica, and his violin player who created an entire string section by layering takes.

“[Ethan] conveys this feeling without the lyrics actually being present,” he said. “By doing that, I was able to write other melodies that convey a feeling that I had to figure out how to put words to afterwards.”

In just two years, he was challenged to establish himself beyond a viral moment and continue to grow as an artist. Lucas Mason embraced his own storytelling, and in turn created a debut full-length album that could connect with anyone who listens.

Photo courtesy of Dave Gillespie

My first band was a duo I had with my neighbour Justin when I was around nine years old. We were called T&J Rock. It was mostly me triggering demo tracks from the Yamaha keyboard my parents had bought for my sister and I from Costco, while Justin improvised melodies using a Fisher-Price Crazy Combo Horn, which for all intents and purposes was an elaborate kazoo. We would record these jams using a cassette recorder, the kind that has an internal microphone so the sound of its gears inevitably end up being a prominent feature of any recording made using the device. Capturing these moments of creativity and pure joy is something that I have loved doing ever since.

The keyboard was a great entry point into music for me, but what I truly wanted to have in my hands was a guitar. After years of pestering, my parents finally bought me a guitar (also from Costco) when I was 11, and this is what truly led me into the realm of songwriting.

I had a copy of the Neil Young compilation Decade that I had dubbed from an LP one of my uncles had left behind at my grandparent’s house. This was in the 90s when everyone had ditched their vinyl collection and replaced their most cherished albums with CD equivalents. There was something so desolate and cinematic sounding in these Neil Young tracks from the late 60s and early 70s. He was a cowboy of sorts, and a loner, and bummed around in the desert. His songs really took me to a place that I could visualize in my mind.

The first song I ever wrote with chords, and words, and the whole bit was very much a rip off of “Cowgirl in the Sand”. Even at the time I knew it was not that great, but it was a real song, and it showed that I could do my own version of this thing which allowed me to illustrate the world of my inner dialogue through sound and words.

From what I’ve talked about here, you can see that I’m passionate about the gear, and the slightly antiquated equipment that surrounded my music appreciation as well as my music creation in those formative years. Capturing not only a sound, but also a mood and feeling is something that has always excited and fascinated me. Songwriting provides me with an outlet to process my thoughts and make sense of the world and my relationships. Also important, it provides me with material to be able to record. Recording is in some ways a more technical side of music, but for me the two sides have always existed in a symbiotic way that is continually gratifying and provides opportunities for endless exploration.

On a Wednesday evening, fans wrapped around the building of 2424 Lincoln Ave. in anticipation of self-proclaimed “feisty pop” artist CHINCHILLA. Although not her first time performing in Chicago, the show was part of her first headlining tour through the U.S., which completely sold out.

The appeal of CHINCHILLA - the stage name for Daisy Bertenshaw - begins with her lyricism. “Feisty” may sometimes carry a negative undertone, but in this case describes the courage that comes through each verse. Alongside a carefully placed beat or an airy production are the words of a woman who is no longer afraid to bite her tongue.

It was evident in that sold-out Chicago crowd that her words meant something to them; over 500 people sang every single song back to her.

“I kept having moments in the middle of songs where I wanted to stop and say, ‘Aaaggghhh isn’t this so cool? I can’t believe you’re actually here!’ I still expect no one to be there every time I do a show in the U.K., let alone in the U.S., so yeah, epic,” she said.

It wasn’t just reciting lyrics. It was cheering during the quiet moments. Posing with their hands in the shape of a heart. Listening to her sales pitch about her upcoming album and lining up at the merch booth afterwards to purchase it. As an independent artist, that is exactly the type of people someone wants in their corner. The people in the room that night understood her music in a way that a record label never did.

“I fucking love you,” she said from the stage that night. “I feel like you’ve been there for me more than any fucking label.”

She doesn’t just sing heartbreakingly truthful lyrics, she embodies the emotion. Her stage presence is serious; calculated stares, sharp hand gestures, measured steps across the stage. It is why her audience, particularly women, resonate so deeply with her music. She has seen it speak to generations of women who attend her shows, and told the Chicago audience that her various social media platforms are consistently active with direct messages regarding their personal interpretations of her music.

“I think I just want people to feel seen, to feel like they have a community and aren’t alone,” she said.

Her live band is equally important when it comes to community. The live arrangements come from her musical director and keyboardist, Ze U’Chong, who plays alongside bassist Rob Bensusan, guitarist Calla Morgan and drummer Luke Campbell.

“I just love and respect all those musicians very dearly,” she said. “The aim is to tour with your best friends and I feel like I’ve achieved that.”

Bertenshaw has played with most of them for years, and it is easy to see how their friendships translate on stage. Their half-choreographed/half-spontaneous interactions with one another encapsulates how much energy they share when hearing the songs come to life.

The rest of her team - Hallie Boddy, Elspeth Gower, Reva Gauntlett and Rosie Matheson - helped bring together such an important run of shows for her career. The community she has created for herself has given her the freedom in live performances that she always dreamed of.

A live performance from CHINCHILLA gives fans a safe space to feel the lyrics. No matter how they resonate, the point is that they do. Any given night, she fills the space with strength, freedom and community. To her audience, a right to dance and scream and feel beautiful is her promise.

Graphic created by Hard Pass Creative

There was something different about the recording studio the day Bishop Briggs made a demo for “River”.

She had been invited to a session with producers Mark Jackson and Ian Brendan Scott, where the creation process had become everything she wanted out of music. She utilized organic elements such as a wooden shoe box found in the room and their own belts. They stacked her vocals to create a choir effect. It gave her creativity a space to explore a song that would ultimately change the trajectory of her music career.

10 years later, “River” still embodies who she is as an artist.

“The song means so much to me,” she said. “It represents so much excitement and really feeling like myself. I remember the first time that I went home with the demo of that song, and I was listening to it in the car with my best friend, and I just felt such a relief. I felt as if, even if no one hears this song ever again, I'll have found myself musically.”

As someone who was searching for the answers of who she was, she found those answers within “River”. Soon after, she watched others find answers of their own in the lyrics of the song. She still remembers the first time the audience sang it back to her, initially thinking that she was experiencing some kind of feedback with her in-ear monitors. When she recognized it was her microphone picking up the audience’s voices, it became a moment of disbelief and triumph all rolled into one.

The song seems to have stayed in the zeitgeist for the last decade, from noteworthy covers to intricate dance routines. Pink began performing “River” on tour in 2017 and included it on her live album, All I Know So Far: Setlist. Pole dance fitness videos regularly used the song, which became the biggest surprise for Briggs, who was impressed at how they made it “sexier and cooler than I ever could.”

Choreographer Galen Hooks first released a contemporary/hip-hop dance a year after the song’s release and recently reconnected with Briggs for an anniversary music video. It is also frequently covered on reality competition shows and was a clue for her own performances when she won season nine of The Masked Singer.

“I truly wasn't expecting so much of what's happened in the past 10 years, and just for it to connect with people, meant so much,” she said. “That's why there was such an emphasis on recreating that dance that Galen Hooks created, because those types of videos made the biggest impact on the song's success.”

Briggs even uses it as part of her own warm-up routine which she frequently posts on social media. As it is typically the last song on her setlist, and the song where she really utilizes the stage, she feels like she physically needs to be in shape for it as well as emotionally.

Each night, playing “River” is a celebration of everything she has accomplished. The energy in the room changes as the first chorus hits. It’s the song where she most commands the stage, and the audience joins her in the celebration.

Continuing to celebrate the song, whether it’s through video creation or interviews about its impact, keeps its message alive. Bishop Briggs still brings organic elements and stacked vocals into her creation process, and in turn, releases final products that reach audiences old and new. “River” will always be the song that made her the artist she is today, and holding that song alongside the people who resonated with it means more than words can express.

“Something I've gathered from what people have told me is it was the first song that people connected with me on,” she said. “It's a good way to find those people again, and check in 10 years later.”

Explaining grief to someone who has never experienced it is nearly impossible. There are so many similes for it. It could be like a rollercoaster, or a shadow, or even a nightmare. No matter which simile is used, it will never quite do it justice.

For Bishop Briggs, grief is like a pair of witches.

First, grief projected into the form of five songs. She released an EP, When It’s Halloween, in 2025. The cover art, two young girls in matching black capes and pointed hats, represented her and her late sister, Kate. The first song introduces two characters, Witchy and Witch, who are sisters but could very well be twins. In real life, Briggs’ mother referred to her and her sister as The Little Witches.

When It’s Halloween speaks to the authenticity she finds in herself this time of year. Projecting joy and positivity is something she incorporates into her daily routine, but when it comes to her songwriting, she finds something darker that she enjoys exploring.

After releasing the EP, Briggs searched for another creative outlet for grief. She was journaling one night and thinking about Witchy and Witch when she drew out a rough sketch of what would become her children’s book, Witchy Witch. She showed it to her husband, and there was a moment of understanding between the two of them. Silent tears. Pained smiles. Then he posed a question.

“Do you think you’ll have someone else do the illustrations?”

Moments of sadness can become moments of hilarity in the blink of an eye. It is another nearly impossible feeling to explain. Now, imagine explaining those nearly impossible feelings to children. As Briggs was trying to understand grief for herself, she found that it was difficult to explain that to her young son without a tangible tool.

She wanted to make sure she explained it right. She connected with a grief therapist from OUR HOUSE Grief Support Center, a nonprofit organization that provides education, resources and hope to anyone navigating life after the death of a loved one. They would talk throughout the writing process, including the importance of making the book a conversation. In between the story are check-in prompts which give children the chance to explore their emotions as they read.

“I love reading to my son, and it was a way to have these conversations and make them a little lighter while also being realistic of who this person was to me,” she said.

For Briggs, those conversations were partially her own therapy sessions. She learned how certain language, once thought to soothe a child’s fear, was actually the most confusing. Being direct and using the word “died” means there is no room for interpretation on if that person is “lost” and maybe coming back or “did not wake up” and could happen to the child next time they fall asleep. During that discussion, it was the first time Briggs had ever said that her sister had died instead of saying ‘passed away’.

She also learned about recognizing signs and using this story to encourage children to say them out loud. Seeing Witchy be so proud in finding a sign from Witch became an important lesson in the book.

“The hope is that when kids are feeling down, or missing their person, or maybe seeing a sign, they share with their caretaker what they're feeling, rather than just keeping it to themselves,” she said.

When it came time to the illustrations, a magical force connected her to Julia Davis. Briggs reached out to her after stumbling across her Happy Haunting coloring book, which gave her the inspiration to have a coloring book of her own to go alongside Witchy Witch. Hard cover and paperback copies are available with either a physical coloring book or digital download. Her official merch store also carries a 10-pack of crayons.

Briggs also partnered with Hugz, a company that creates weighted stuffed animals for stress relief purposes. Similar to coloring, this sensory-friendly black cat, the same one seen in Witchy Witch, can be used as another way to bring comfort.

For Bishop Briggs, grief is like a pair of witches. Witchy and Witch are two pumpkins in a patch but also so much more than that. The love she and her sister shared lives on in the story of Witchy Witch, the comfort of a black cat and all the signs found in the moonlight.

Photo courtesy of Heath Moffatt

Kerrington Gillespie was always meant to be on stage. From toddler-parent ballet classes to at-home concerts, she found any opportunity to perform.

For years she would take notes on anything that inspired her. She found an interest in the storytelling aspects of country music and was drawn to artists like Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. She would jot down anything from street signs to comments made by friends. Then, her parents gave her the ultimate Christmas present: a songwriting session.

It gave her the push she needed to hone in on her dreams of being a songwriter. She found ideal collaborators in Trey Bruce, Tavish Crowe and Jared Manierka as they each bring out different sides of her. They helped her find a perfect blend of pop and country for a sound that is distinctly her own.

“I love being able to hear a song and really imagine it and see the story happening,” she said.

She gave herself a goal in 2026 to release one song a month. Her latest single, “Three Missed Calls”, is pop by definition but instrumentally country. The honesty in the lyrics mixed with precise guitar riffs is the reason why this song is the first one where she feels it best represents her as an artist.

The inspiration behind this song comes from a girls night where the conversation turned to exes. Two of Gillespie’s friends had recently received text messages from former boyfriends. They asked each other, how do these texts always come when you’re finally ready to move on?

The conversation immediately sparked an idea. She was in a songwriting session in Vancouver, beginning the second song of the day, when she started with the title. The next day, Crowe was given the task of adding a guitar riff that was reminiscent of today’s girly pop. After the first take, Gillespie knew that this scenario was something more than just her friend group could connect to.

“It’s not just you listening to music,” she said. “It’s so many other people. It’s important that it’s something that they can relate to and they can hear. I just think it’s so important for relatability and for people to be able to connect.”

Shortly after its release, she was spending a quiet night at home when she heard her mother’s shocked voice coming from downstairs. “Three Missed Calls” was chosen for Spotify’s “Fresh Finds Canada”. A photo of her adorned the cover art.

As she watched the momentum build, she knew this was a roller coaster she could not get off. She chose to defer her recent acceptance to the University of Miami and instead focus on writing and recording music.

“I was nervous at first because I did spend time applying to all of these schools,” she said. “But I might as well just go for it. I enjoy school but I know I’m going to be enjoying music more.”

While she isn’t in a traditional classroom setting, she is still learning. Studio and songwriting sessions are giving her access to new tools. Meeting industry professionals is guiding her to the next steps. She has also been gaining real world experience by immersing herself in her local music scene. She is putting in the work, and knows that she is ready to take on her next challenge.

“A lot of my first songs are a lot different than what I’m releasing now,” she said. “I was really getting a feel for what my sound is and who I want to be as an artist. I feel like I’ve really solidified that now.”

Gillespie can still feel the excitement she experienced as “Three Missed Calls” was coming together. It’s a feeling she plans to hold on to as she continues to find inspiration.

Photo courtesy of Steph Alexis

It takes between 27 and 30 years for Saturn to travel through the zodiac and return to the same place it was when someone was born. Each return lasts approximately three years, representing accountability and agency. In preparation for her Saturn return, Kira McSpice sought help from breathwork facilitator and hypnotherapist Trina Merz, who guided her through a trance that took her on a spiritual trek, revisiting the past and giving her tools to navigate the next phase of her life.

She knew big shifts in her life were quickly approaching, and she wanted to greet her Saturn return in a respectful manner. Merz facilitated the trance, asking questions about how McSpice was feeling, the colors she saw and the symbols that were making themselves known. Already familiar with breath work, it was easy for McSpice to enter this dream-like state and quickly found herself in a desert.

“It’s a very creative practice and there’s a lot of release that comes from it,” she said. “It’s like remembering a dream. I didn’t completely have control over what was happening, but I was with it enough to recall.”

She was guided through the desert until she found a house that deeply resembled her childhood Georgian home. Gone were the tangible, physical attributes of what made it a home, replaced with a crumbling facade that still held all of the emotions. Walking through it was familiar and strange all at the same time, and as she made her way to the front of the interior, she was met with a ghost. It resembled both her and her great-grandmother, and as they touched hands she was awoken from the trance. That was the moment she realized she needed a container for this Saturn return.

“For all of the work that I was going to be doing, I wanted some vessel for it,” she said. “I knew that this was going to be a several-part album or several-part series where I explored different aspects of myself throughout the Saturn return and explored different themes of who I am and how I wanted to change; what I wanted to take with me and how I move through the world.”

She had already begun writing songs in the lead-up to her Saturn return, with the final product, Saturnism, released in February. The Desert, released in June, and The House, releasing this week, were all written with the intention of a quick release to encompass her transformation in real time.

The first time she released a series of albums was The Migraine in 4 Parts, a conceptual project that explored the four phases of a migraine headache. When it came to production and arrangement, she really immersed herself in conveying the physical pain of a migraine through instrumentation. She learned how much she enjoyed that aspect of the creation process, and wanted A Return in 4 Parts to carry that new tradition.

The beginning of the creation process actually involved her returning to her childhood home. Standing in front of the house brought back a particular memory: the aftershocks of a fight, threatening to run away from home and being told, “if you leave, you can’t ever come back.” Now here she was, proving that statement both right and wrong.

Emotions of seeing the house for the first time in years changed when the current owner walked outside and eventually invited her to step back into her former home. It gave her plenty of inspiration, which she took back to the church-turned-community space The Granite Church to record alongside co-producers Sean Brennan and Tyler Skoglund. Having worked together previously, their involvement brought forth a kind of love and patience that McSpice needed to create such personal music.

She gave Brennan all the credit for turning her idea of adding a choir into a much more meaningful ensemble. She knew these songs needed extra voices to carry the stories behind them, and instead of recruiting an established choir, they gathered friends and friends of friends, all sopranos and altos. The “homemade” choir made the process all the more intentional and loving.

The last song on The House, “Stillness”, is the only song sans choir. While each album can stand on its own, it is best heard together to fully grasp the journey of the songwriter. “Stillness” became the return to her spirit, the moments of introspection and the introduction to the final album.

McSpice felt the power behind the songs as she filmed the music video for “Return”. It was early in the writing process when she knew that song deserved a visual accompaniment and recruited a friend to make face masks depicting a sun and moon. Around the same time, she found videos of sister dancers Rainey and Anabelle Scarborough and immediately knew they needed to be the ones wearing the masks. Director Brandon Brumm took her ideas and ran with them, filming in several locations including The Granite Church.

“I didn’t even realize what I wanted,” she said. “It was such a rich and powerful experience that I came out of it feeling like it was part of the transformation of the Saturn return. That video shoot was a huge moment for me; a pivotal moment of realizing how powerful the music was.”

By greeting her Saturn return in a respectful manner, Kira McSpice was able to channel everything it gave her into a distinct piece of art. The House functions as the climax of A Return in 4 Parts, forcing her to confront life-altering experiences she had tried to bury but needed to revisit in order to accept her next phase.

Photo courtesy of Dana Gorab

I’ve been working on concert crews for nearly 40 years, and I’ve probably seen more performances than most people could imagine. Some were spectacular, some were unforgettable and a few actually brought me to tears.

Stagehands love live music, too, and what’s more, we love bringing shows to life for audiences. We may be working above the stage, behind it or underneath it, but we feel the energy when a performer really connects with an audience. It’s one of the reasons we do this job. Even though I’ve seen thousands of shows, things still happen that raise gooseflesh on my arms.

One of those moments came during Fleetwood Mac’s reunion tour, The Dance.

I’d worked with Fleetwood Mac before, back when things could get pretty wild. But seeing them reunited in 1997 was an entirely different experience. They were together, they sounded incredible, and from the very first note, you could feel the energy coming off that stage. It rolled across the front of the audience and flowed right up to where we were working in the catwalks.

There were people weeping in the audience, and I understood exactly how they felt. It was one of those performances where something extraordinary happened between the musicians and the crowd. My voice still shakes when I talk about that night, almost thirty years later.

Another time, I was working a Neil Young show at Great Woods, the outdoor amphitheater outside Boston that’s now called the Xfinity Center.

I’ve worked on productions with enormous sets, elaborate lighting and huge props. Believe me, I appreciate what goes into creating a spectacular show. That’s my job.

But Neil’s stage was almost bare; nothing but Neil, a stool and his acoustic guitar. Behind him was a string of Christmas lights arranged in the shape of a ship. That was the entire setup.

I was up on the catwalk, running a follow-spot, and I had a wonderful view of the performance and the audience. Neil was playing his greatest hits, including songs from the 70s, and the audience was on its feet all night long. He connected with those people in a way that’s hard to describe. It was like lightning going off. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.

We can build the biggest, most elaborate stage in the world, but when a performer really connects with an audience, none of that other stuff matters. I think we all cried that night.

And then, there was one of my idols, Tina Turner. This happened in the early 90s, also at Great Woods. I had immense respect for Tina, not just because of her talent, but because she was a true performer. Every single time she stepped onto a stage, she gave it everything she had.

For this particular show, they’d brought in a cherry picker - or a mechanical lift for Tina to use during her performance. Somebody asked me if I’d try it out first to make sure it was safe for her. I said, “Absolutely!”

They put me up in that thing and extended it all the way out over the audience seats. It was cool as hell.

Time came for the show. Now, I had tested the cherry picker, so I knew what it felt like to be out there. But who knew Tina Turner was going to hang off the thing with one arm and one leg, wearing leather pants and stilettos? She was amazing! When Tina came back down onto the raised stage, there was a ramp leading offstage. My friend Rusty and I were standing at the side, ready to help her.

And here’s the thing: at that moment, we weren’t thinking about the fact that this was Tina Turner, one of the biggest stars in the world. We were stagehands doing our jobs. She was coming offstage, and we needed to help her down safely.

Tina came right into our arms, and we caught her. We were all sweating because it was the middle of summer and hot as hell. Tina had been giving everything she had to that audience, and Rusty and I had been working the show.

As we caught her, Tina handed me an armful of teddy bears! Then she grabbed Rusty’s face and planted a great big kiss on his cheek. She told us, “Without stage hands, I would be nothing.”

Rusty and I just stared at each other with our eyes filling up with tears. You have to understand something about working backstage. The crew is responsible for making sure everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen. We’re there before the performers arrive, and we’re still there long after they’ve gone. We do our jobs because we love what we do, but we don’t always get a lot of recognition from the people onstage.

And we don’t expect it. That’s not why we’re there. But here was Tina Turner, this incredible woman I’d admired for years, taking a moment to acknowledge us. Not just with a thank-you, but with genuine affection and appreciation.

We were gobsmacked. Rusty had this big lipstick kiss on his cheek, and he told me, “I’m never gonna wash my face again.”

I’ve worked thousands of performances over the years, and I’ve seen some extraordinary things. But I’ll never forget that moment with Tina. The audience had spent the evening showing Tina how much they loved her. And when she came offstage, she turned around and showed a couple of stagehands how much she appreciated them.

That meant the world to us. Of course we busted out crying!