A rock opera in twelve acts.

England, 1963. Jack Mercy has a voice that can knock down the ceiling. He doesn't have a single song worth playing. He plays to half-empty halls until he notices someone sitting in the last row. Every night. The same coat, the same seat. He doesn't clap, he doesn't leave, and the doorman says there's no one there.

The man offers him a deal. No fire, no blood, not a word about a soul — just a table, a pen, and one sentence that Jack misses because he's laughing by then.

In two years, he's the most famous man in England. Fourteen songs he's never written. Twelve thousand people who can sing them better than him. And one night on the motorway when he hears himself on the radio and doesn't recognize himself.

Overdriven Hammonds, bluesy riffs, a voice soaring like a siren — and against it a second voice that doesn't scream once on the entire record.

Who wrote that song?