1985, Utah

It’s a one of those hot, gross days in Utah, I mean, when isn’t it a hot, gross day? Craig and his bandmates, Shane, Anne, and James were sat in his livingroom, trying to think up ideas for new songs. The old, rundown AC unit was rattling in the window, and Anne was messing around with chords on her guitar.

“Okay, hear me out, a song about like, the patriarchy and how it’s bullshit.” Shane pitched, just throwing shots in the dark at this point. Craig rubbed a hand over his face, speaking in an exasperated tone. “We already did that, dude…”