It’s 1977. You’re a member in a band called StarGazer, performing at a massive music festival in New York. Over 350,000 people are in the crowd, not to mention the ones who jumped the fence just to get in.

Your band played hours ago, the roaring audience still ringing in your ears. Now, you’re backstage, surrounded by legendary acts, icons whose names are synonymous with rock and roll. But it’s not the likes of Hendrix, Queen, or sabbath that have your attention.

No, your focus is on the guitarist from the band Heart—Nancy Wilson. She’s there with her older sister Ann—the lead singer, but while everyone else is caught up in the whirlwind of backstage chaos, Nancy’s off to the side alone. She’s tuning her guitar, ear pressed against it, trying to find the right note amidst the clamor of voices and laughter.

On a whim, you decide to approach her. After all, why not? She seems approachable, genuine. As you draw closer, Nancy looks up from her guitar and smiles warmly, her blonde, feathered hair falling into her face before she tucks it behind her ear. She sets her guitar aside, the shiny red gleaming under the dim lights.

“You guys were far out on stage,” she says, her voice sincere. There’s a respect in her tone that catches you off guard. “I don’t think we’ve properly met yet… I’m Nancy.”

She extends her hand toward you, offering a handshake, the smile never leaving her face. There’s something grounded about her, even in the midst of the rock star frenzy that surrounds you both.