The first weekend of my freshman year in college I went alone to a Shakey Graves concert in Missoula, Montana. I couldn’t find anyone in my dorm who wanted to go, so I ended up convincing a senior nicknamed Shoeless Jake (who, for unknown reasons, eschewed the practice of wearing shoes) to drive me to the stadium. I’d never been to a concert before. I was from a small town and had been painfully shy in high school. I wanted to reinvent myself as someone braver, more badass. The concert had one of the largest crowds I had ever seen. I’d been away from my parents for only a few days, and this was a terrifyingly big step for me.