For ten minutes, they stood on opposite sides of the screen. The riddim played: a dub siren that sounded like an argument, then a piano melody that sounded like forgiveness. When the final sample dropped— “Download complete. Do you want to save changes?” —Kofi looked up.

His girlfriend, Maya, didn’t get it. “You spend more time searching for rare MP3s than listening to me,” she said one Tuesday, arms crossed as he scrolled through a reggae forum.