The first phrase escaped him like a held breath finally released. The initial tremor in his voice, the telltale sign of someone trying not to be overwhelmed, fell away as he committed to the melody. What followed felt almost impossible to reconcile with the man standing there in a plain shirt and jeans: a rich, resonant tenor unfurled across the auditorium, perfectly controlled yet filled with raw feeling. He sailed through the long notes with an ease that suggested years of practice, though who could have guessed where and when that practice had taken place? Maybe in an empty kitchen after a long shift, or in the back of a van while on the road, Jamie’s voice had been quietly sharpening. The transformation was so complete that it seemed as if the stage had been waiting for him to arrive.