Tim Heck arrived at the music studio, Análogo Digital, eager to see a producer’s process for recording a song for the first time. Pulling into the driveway, he noticed two old Volkswagen Beetles. Rafael Parra, a Guatemalan student helping navigate Heck and his group, says, “That is David’s car.” The two producers who own the studio are Franc Castillejos and David Suárez, good friends of Parra.

Heck steps into the studio with the face of a kid running through pigeons at Central Park, Antigua. The inside looks like a normal home, but a house that has been converted into a musician's man cave. Random instruments in odd places, stickers and drawings that exclaim, “EAT Shit.” Canvas posters on the wall displayed gigs that bands or musical artists that Castillejos and Suárez had recorded. Heck loves band posters. Seeing these posters completed the perfect musicians man cave.

Heck’s mouth drops to the floor and his eyes widen as he steps into the recording room. He thinks to himself, “If I only had a room like this at my house, I would never leave.” He picks up a vintage trumpet, thinking he may still have the ability to play as he did in high school. He tightens his lips, presses hard against the mouthpiece, then blows. The first sound that came out was rough on the ears, but with another try came a recognizable sound. If only he remembered how to play actual notes.

“This is so cool,” he kept saying in a high-pitched whisper, loud enough for everyone to hear while attempting to keep it subtle.

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