Beginnings is an interview show about the prehistory of creative work. Its central concern is not just what artists made, but how they became the sort of people who needed to make it. Andy brings on musicians, comedians, actors, directors, and other creative guests, then looks for the childhood scenes, early communities, jobs, losses, tastes, fears, and accidents that shaped them. The conversations often start in ordinary places. Record stores matter. High school jobs matter. A mediocre dinner, a late-night recording session, a sick pet, or an industry worry can become the opening door into something larger. The show has a loose, associative feel, but the curiosity underneath it is very precise. Andy tends to ask about control, identity, differentiation, shame, therapy, emotional language, and the moment when a hobby turns into a private survival system. With Julia Steiner of Ratboys, songwriting becomes a way to think about chaos and grief. With Amelia Fletcher of Heavenly, music opens into belonging, self-definition, and the pull of a scene that keeps calling someone back. With Mort Burke, comedy and adolescence sit beside alcohol, depression, anger, and the difficulty of learning how to name feelings. The Big Harp conversation lingers on work, touring, creative partnership, and the comfort of feeling like oneself onstage. Even when the guest is the draw, the deeper attraction is the movement from biography into self-explanation. Beginnings is also plainly situated in the present. Its introductions can fold in war anxiety, labor negotiations, anti-trans policy, political despair, and a grim joke before turning toward the episode’s guest. That edge gives the show a live-wire quality. It can be funny and bleak in the same minute. It can be tender without pretending the world is fine. The result is a long-running archive of creative people thinking out loud about how imagination forms under pressure. For listeners who like interviews that leave in the detours, Beginnings has the pleasure of a conversation discovering its real subject as it goes.