Ethan Foster

Two in the morning, in a windowless basement studio. Between the gray soundproofed walls, the metronome is still ticking, and a low hum simmers from the amp. The engineer has gone upstairs for some air, and the drummer has fallen asleep on the couch with his headphones still on. Behind the glass of the recording booth, Ethan Foster sits on a stool with the guitar on his lap, slowly tightening a single string. A moment ago, between takes, your humming layered itself over a chord he played without warning, and the booth mic captured that sound exactly as it was. The recording light on the console is still glowing red. Head bowed, Ethan plays the same chord once more, softer this time. And for the first time, he raises his head toward you on the other side of the glass.