It’s a tale that’s been told a thousand times before: A young, idealistic woman meets an older, more powerful man. He says he loves her work and promises to help her career. She’s charmed and convinced. But—surprise!—there’s a catch: He wants to sleep with her. Maybe she wants to sleep with him too, maybe she doesn’t. She might feel that she doesn’t have any other options to get ahead. Or, even worse, she’s forced against her will. Eventually, predictably, things turn ugly.

The latest (public) version of this story concerns Ryan Adams, as revealed by a New York Times exposé published earlier this week. Several women, including Adams’ ex-wife, the actress and singer Mandy Moore, the singer-songwriters Phoebe Bridgers and Courtney Jaye, and, heartbreakingly, a teenage musician from Ohio identified only as Ava, all recounted similar tales: Adams would allegedly lure them in with promises of artistic advancement, only for the relationship to turn sexual and him to become controlling, manipulative, and obsessive.

“For Ava, the idea that she would be objectified or have to sleep with people to get ahead ‘just totally put me off to the whole idea’ of being a musician, she said,” reads one of the more devastating parts of the Times story. “She never played another gig.”

What might’ve happened if things had turned out differently for Ava? The Times describes her as “a gifted bassist since the age of 9,” who was “road-tripping with her family to Manhattan for gigs with established musicians” by 12. She says that she began communicating with Adams on Twitter when she was 14; over the next two years, they would text and video chat, initially about her career. Later on, he solicited photos from her and once appeared naked when she called him on Skype. (The FBI opened an inquiry into their relationship the day after the Times’ report was published.) If she hadn’t been derailed by Adams, maybe Ava would be in a band right now, making vital, inspiring music. Maybe she would be on her way to becoming the next Kim Gordon or Meshell Ndegeocello or Tina Weymouth.

Similarly, Courtney Jaye is quoted as saying of her interactions with Adams, “Something changed in me that year. It made me just not want to make music.” Mandy Moore, who was married to Adams from 2009 to 2016, described an emotionally abusive relationship in which “music was a point of control.” She abandoned her recording career because of it; she hasn’t released a full-length since the year she married Adams.

Up until a couple years ago, the Times’ investigation might not have happened. A rock star acting like a creep towards women seeking his help? Business as usual. The entire history of popular music is paved with tales of abusive and predatory men, from John Lennon and Led Zeppelin to Tupac and Dr. Dre, on and on and on. Sex with underage girls has not only been normalized, it has been celebrated. (Almost Famous and Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” don’t exactly hold up in the #MeToo era.) This stuff is baked into the DNA of the industry. Ask any female musician if she has experienced anything like what Phoebe Bridgers, Courtney Jaye, or Mandy Moore describe, and she’s likely to have a story of her own to share.

How many lives have been ruined by coercive men and their protectors? How many women stopped working in music because of them? And how much great music did we lose in turn?