As we forged along, the band made an art out of asking for help—from our housemates, from our friends, from our fans, from our family, from anybody who’d give it.

It was about the value coming from the taker of the flower, the hearer of the song, the heart of the beholder. Being painted white and standing on a box, the crowdsurfing, the Kickstarter, ringing a stranger’s doorbell in the middle of the night: I no longer see these things as risk. I see them as acts of trust. I think the real risk is the choice