Another day with no gig, another day spent lazily looking for new music. Vinyl Scratch took a lot of inspiration from the noises she heard around her and in a small town like Ponyville it was easy to stagnant if you weren’t careful. It was through complete happenstance that on her latest trip to the record store nearby she stumbled upon a thoroughly bizarre-looking record. It was titled “Pulse Demon.” Nothing she had ever heard before. With her new purchase in her side bag she made off towards home, already anticipating laying it on the player.
Noise. That’s what it was. Literal, genuine, unfiltered harsh noise. And she was loving every minute of it. Who would’ve ever thought to make noise! It was so deceptively simply but she could tell there was more work to it than just banging away on something. There were layers to the aural assault she was sitting through and she would emulate it if it was the last thing she did.
Her neighbors (those who hadn’t moved far, far away.) were used to the the racket. But this? This was something entirely different. This was a whole new level of offensive. Twilight didn’t understand what all the fuss was about but it became painfully clear why she had been called in to talk to her as she walked in. There by her studio was one Vinyl Scratch, hunched over and banging wildly away at a microphone.
“Vinyl.”
Still banging away.
“Vinyl.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“VINYL!”
Torn out of her creative frenzy she paused, mane slicked with sweat and a wicked grin on her face.
“Twi! I’m so glad you’re here. Listen, I need you to put this grinder on this microphone while I record it. I’m gonna try and get some feedback and maybe loop that too or something.”
Twilight stood stock still, her mouth formed into a throughly unimpressed line. “I came here to tell you to keep it down. You’re starting to scare some of the ponies around here.”
“Whaaat? Scare them? C’mon, noise is the future of music! Seriously, just listen to this.” She slapped play and Twilight was nearly sent reeling by the barrage of sound that followed. She got maybe thirty seconds before her horn flashed, pulling the plug on whatever “music” Vinyl was trying to show her.
“Don’t. Do that again.”
“Awwww. If you insist. Can I get back to work now?”
“Just. Try not to record during quiet hours? Please? That means stopping at like, ten at the latest.”
This request earned a pout from Vinyl but Twilight came right back with a borderline scowl. She seemed to get the message, nearly bouncing back off to set up a recording rig. Twilight scrambled out before she started up again. She was thankful to have communicated just that much to her without damaging her hearing too badly.
Two weeks. Vinyl Scratch had been working on her newest album for two weeks. She had already gotten into contact with a label, some avant-garde-friendly collective called Warp and they agreed to run a few test pressings once she was finished. This spurred her even deeper into her work, going so far as to record fresh new sounds such as: one of Pinkies parties (several hours long) in reverse, steel on a chalkboard, and various ponies yelling at her to stop making so much noise layered on top of each other. She could feel herself getting closer to finishing, just a few sonic landscapes left to develop before she could wrap it all up.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel something was missing. She hadn’t been called out to DJ anywhere in ages and hardly anyone had stopped by to say anything more than “for Celestias’ sake, who’s being strung up in here?” But that wasn’t a problem! She was having a good time and that was the important part. Right? Right? It wasn’t the most pressing matter right now, at least. She was on the verge of a breakthrough with this song after all. She just needed a little more time…
Three days. No sleep for three days. Why? Because who needs sleep! She was just putting the finished touches on the last track (cleverly titled “I Became A Noise Musician And Lost All My Friends”) and she was so… close…
Bam! The door was flung wide open just as she clicked export. Standing there in the doorway was a very concerned-looking Princess Celestia. Not something she saw every day. Or month. Or season, even.
“Oh. Hey.”
“Vinyl Scratch.”
“Princess Celestia.”
The two stood there for a moment, Vinyl completely strung out on lack of sleep and Celestia secretly very grateful for the silence.
“How have you been?”
“Busy. But I don’t think I’m busy anymore. Just got done, actually. Being busy that is.”
“I’m glad. Maybe you could make it to one of my parties someday?”
Oh hay. She had forgotten all about this little get together Celestia was throwing! Or threw, rather. A quick glance at the calendar showed that she had missed it by a solid week. “Wow. This is embarrassing.”
“It’s quite alright, dear. I’m glad you were so inspired. Just don’t forget about your friends, okay? I think everypony is worried about you.”
Before Vinyl could respond the sun princess was gone, the doorway empty again. She walked over on unsteady legs and shut the door. The fact that she had a horn didn’t even cross her mind. Checking to see if her song had exported yet she felt satisfied with its state. She willed herself into bed, nearly collapsing into it. In an instant she was out, dreaming growly, seriously industrial dreams.
Some hours later Vinyl Scratch awoke blearily to an uncomfortably quiet home. It took all her might not to play anything, anything at all, that might disturb the shaky silence. It was with some trepidation that she checked her DAW, breathing out a sigh of relief that everything had gone smoothly. She packaged it up and sent it off, glad to be done. Now she just had a few hundred connections to patch up and she’d be in the clear!
That wasn’t too difficult, right?
