Steve was skeptical that he could get through that many without stopping, but he was determined to make a good impression. He might make a mistake here or there, but he had gotten better at quickly recovering instead of beating himself up over the minor error. Now, if only he could apply that to his daily dealings.

Steve knew he had become a perfectionist, born out of his parents' (father's, mostly) nit-picking. No matter how hard Steve tried, he would never be good enough in their eyes. But here, behind the drumkit, they couldn't get to him. He might not be perfect, but he didn't have to be. Practice makes perfect, or so the saying went, and Steve would keep striving to improve.

When they launched into the set list, Steve's confidence wasn't all there yet, but it grew as he played. He felt a synergy with the rest of the band, such that he couldn't have felt just hashing out the drum parts in Gareth's garage. It was exhilarating. Steve didn't want to stop, even when Jeff called a time-out after the third song.