Three words. Three different voices. Together, they sketch the foundation of Touchdown and a Handshake—a band of five high school musicians whose music is more than sound. It’s friendship, laughter, late-night practices, and the kind of bond that sticks long after the amps are unplugged.
The group wouldn’t be complete without Patrick Kenna, a guitarist whose sharp riffs drive their songs forward, and Jack Lynch, the bassist whose steady low end holds everything together. Patrick and Jack go to a Ligonier High School, so they’re not always part of the same daily grind. But when the five of them plug in for practice, the separation fades. The rhythm locks in, the sound fills out, and suddenly the band feels whole.
The roots of Touchdown and a Handshake stretch back years. Ament and McKeever were friends first, two kids who discovered early on that music was a language they both spoke fluently. Ament had been singing since he could remember, even taking lessons from a vocal trainer at just seven years old. McKeever, meanwhile, was sitting behind a piano before most kids were riding bikes, later branching out into the drums and other instruments.
When the two of them realized they wanted something bigger than just jamming alone, they reached out. Taylor joined next, bringing with him a guitar that had been collecting dust since his dad bought it years earlier. “I didn’t really start taking it seriously until the rock ensemble class at school last year,” Taylor admits. But once he plugged in Ament and McKeever, it clicked.
Kenna and Lynch came soon after, recruited through friendships and word-of-mouth. Together, the five formed a band that was less about perfection and more about possibility. The name Touchdown and a Handshake reflects that spirit—the small victories, the celebration, and the connections.
Walking into one of their rehearsals, Ament’s phrase, organized mess comes to life. Cables snake across the floor. Empty water bottles pile up on amps. Sheet music, set lists, and random notebooks scatter across tables. The sound bounces between wrong notes, laughter, corrections, and then—suddenly—a burst of harmony so sharp and seamless it makes all the chaos worth it.
For Ament, that’s the magic. “Performing and singing my songs helps me express my emotions,” he says. “It’s a way of venting.” His role as songwriter often makes him the one to throw new material into the mix, but the band shapes it together until it becomes theirs.
Taylor nods to the same idea, though with his own twist. He hates settling for “just okay.” If a riff doesn’t feel right, he’ll push until it does. It’s part of the reason he chose dedicated as his word. “I try to make things sound better,” he says, and for him, that dedication has become second nature.
McKeever balances both sides. He knows the process can be “tedious, so much that it can be annoying,” but the joy of it—the energy when everything finally fits—makes it worthwhile.
One of the hardest parts of being a high school band isn’t writing songs or performing in front of a crowd—it’s simply finding time to practice. With school schedules, extracurriculars, and jobs pulling them in different directions, rehearsal often feels like an impossible puzzle.
“More than once, we’ve had to do overnight rehearsals before a gig,” Ament said. “We’ll just keep going over and over things again until it’s right.” It’s the kind of commitment that forges tight bonds.
McKeever agrees, adding that time is their biggest challenge. Still, he wouldn’t trade it. “Even when it’s hard, it makes me happy,” he says.
