Threes and Fours

“Vinyl?”

“What?”

“You’re on in ten.”

“You think I don’t know that? I’ve done enough of these shows; I can figure it out.”

“Yeesh. Sorry. Just trying to help...”

It should have made me sick, but it hasn’t. Then again, I haven’t felt like eating much of anything for a while, so maybe it has.

        It should have made me angry, furious, sad, depressed... anything. But it didn’t. All I feel is... empty. Empty’s a pretty sucky feeling. You want to scream, but at the same time, you know screaming ain’t worth the effort.

        It sucks. It sucks to see so many ponies, all so happy, and knowing that you’re the one making them happy, and yet you can’t be happy yourself. No matter what I do, it just ain’t there anymore. Sure, I put on a smile for the cameras, but that’s ‘cause I got to, ‘cause they’re not going to take anything less, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But just ‘cause there’s nothing wrong with that doesn’t mean that it’s not fake, and it doesn’t mean that I enjoy it. Yeah, I should enjoy it, and I know I should enjoy it and that just makes it worse. It makes me seem ungrateful. I’m not, I swear. I appreciate every fan that I have, I swear. I just really wish... that I had just one more. You know which one.

        I didn’t... no. No, I didn’t. I didn’t, because it’s not my fault. I did everything I could and everything right. I thanked her. I commended her. I paid tribute and royalties and all the horseapples! Has everything gone the way I wanted it to? Yeah, you better believe it has! I got the album sales and the screaming fans and the sold-out stadiums and enough bits to make even the Canterlonian Duke of Bits be all “Dang, that’s a lot of bits!”

        Hmm. I don’t know how much sense that made. Whatever. Point is, everything’s going my way. Everything! So why should I feel bad? There’s no reason for it! It’s not my fault that Tavi’s... you know, being mocked and ridiculed by her own fans for allowing my sampling and effectively guest-starring on my album, with how much of the work is hers. It’s not my fault that Whit3 Nois3 has got so popular among the lower rungs of Canterlot that the elite have taken a hatred to it purely on some sort of misguided principle. It’s not my fault that Tavi’s had to publicly display her disgust with me in order to save face.

        At least, that’s why she did it, right? She can’t hate me. That would be stupid. Right? I didn’t do anything wrong. Right? Right, I couldn’t have done anything wrong. Because I never do anything wrong. Because I’m perfect, you know? That’s what everypony tells me anyway. I’m perfect. Luna-cursed perfect.

        Maybe DJ Pon3 is perfect. Maybe. Maybe. But I can tell you right now that Vinyl Scratch isn’t. DJ Pon3 is beloved, adored, and a bunch of other words making me want a thesaurus. But Vinyl Scratch? She’s just a mare with too many things on her schedule and too much money for her own good. She’s just a unicorn with a love for music and an ear willing to explore. It’s who I’ve always been and who I’ll always be. But while DJ Pon3 is perfect, Vinyl Scratch knows she screwed up.

        Maybe I was overeager. No, no, there’s no maybe involved there- I was overeager. I’d ask if you could blame me, but yeah, you can blame me. I know I’m blaming myself. But what am I supposed to even do about it? I can’t fix this. What do I do, talk less? Ignore her? I’m sure she’d love it, knowing her, but it doesn’t feel right to me! I want everypony to know ‘cause I want everypony to think about what they’re listening to and not just jam to whatever they’re force-fed. I want everypony to listen to Octavia, but how am I supposed to do that when they won’t even...

        Hey. But that’s it. Yeah, they will listen to me. I’ve just got to talk in a language they want to understand.

        All of a sudden, I can’t wait ‘til the end of this tour. I got some work to do.

        If there’s anything to be said about Vinyl Scratch, it’s that there is no cutie mark she deserves other than a four-leaf clover, for that mare is far less a musician and far more simply, purely lucky.

        Lucky we were introduced on a day where I was in a good mood and thus more receptive to her requests. Lucky that her sound found so many ears that were for reasons entirely unbeknownst to me simply craving it, giving her such bombastic popularity. Lucky I didn’t snap her horn clean off when she possessed the absolute audacity to arrive at my apartment in order to thank me, yes, thank me for allowing the series of actions that has left my reputation in shambles. And, of course, lucky I was listening to the radio on one particular morning.

        I certainly wasn’t listening for anything in particular, but nonetheless a somewhat interesting viola piece emerged from the speaker. Far from a masterpiece, mind you; particularly amateurish, in fact, and quite clearly played by somepony who had not yet mastered her instrument of choice, but still interesting, especially since it wasn’t on a station I typically listen to. Perhaps this would have to be a setting I’d need to remember, I thought, if it was going to play this style of music. But, just then, the song immediately cut out, and I was witness to an argument I never expected to hear in my life.

 “Alright, enough of that nonsense. Come on, where’s the real single?”

“That was the real single.”

“Come on now, Pon3, I know you like a good prank, but joke’s over. Everypony wants to hear the new single. Where is it?”

“That was it. Right there. It’s called A Plea for Sanity in A Minor.”

“A what? Come on. Seriously. What are you trying to-”

“What I’m trying to do is prove a point here, Riff, if you’d let me! And you’re doing a pretty good job at proving it right now.”

“What are you talking about-”

“You brought me on this show ‘cause you wanted DJ Pon3’s hot new single! You wanted to be the first to play it, the first to hear it, the first to let everypony in Equestria listen for themselves, and guess what? You got it. You got it because it’s music like that that’s the reason you hear music like you’re used to. Those are my roots. Those are my inspirations. But y’all don’t give a flying feather about that, now do you?”

“Um... I don’t think you’re allowed to say that on the r-”

“Then fine me, ‘cause I’m gonna keep on talking. Flying feather, flying feather, I don’t care. You wanted DJ Pon3 and it must be Hearth’s Warming Eve ‘cause you got her! But maybe she’s not what you asked for. Maybe my single’s not what you asked for. But that’s the problem. The problem with you, the problem with the station, the problem with the whole system! You ask. You demand. But do you ever seek? You don’t! You listen to what you’re told to listen to, and half the reason for that is ‘cause you play what you’re told to play.”

“Me? What did I ever-”

“Yeah, you’re just doing your job. You’re just the messenger. Whatever. You got any idea how many horseapples I’ve gotten just for having Octavia’s records in my collection? But I listened to ‘em anyway, because she’s brilliant. Yeah, I know she hates me, but she’s still brilliant and she ain’t going to stop inspiring me just because I can’t look her in the eyes. You know what’s happened to her? Those Canterlot snobs can’t stand me so much that her career’s taken a hit just ‘cause I sampled some of the greatest classical works of our era! That would be bad enough. But you know the truth? We’re all guilty, and you just proved it.”

“I don’t take well to being attacked, Ms. Scratch-”

“Neither do I. But as much as they don’t like me, nopony else will even give Octavia or anypony like her a chance. Ever heard of Beauty Brass? No, you haven’t, ‘cause you think all classical is dreck just like they think all the tracks you know and wub are beneath them. And don’t worry, ‘cause there’s plenty of bass-dropping on the new album too. But it ain’t just that, nor should it be, ‘cause that shouldn’t be all you listen to! That’s all I’m trying to say. If I didn’t broaden my horizons, Whit3 Nois3 wouldn’t exist. That’s all I’m asking. You think you’re better than those ponies that wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire? Then prove it. And you can start proving it by playing more than fifteen seconds of a single by a musician you say you love just ‘cause you hear a Celly-banished viola and-”

The microphone cut out, and all that was left was silence, silence I still managed to listen to intently for a few minutes before turning the radio off, then listening to that silence for a while longer.

I honestly can’t say that I know what came over her. Whatever that was, it was most certainly going to become a PR disaster one way or another, but despite it all one thing was quite clear, and that was that Scratch spoke her mind. There’s always something to be said for somepony that chooses to speak her mind and won’t allow herself to be duressed by the consequences. She may be a hooligan and she may be a fool, but I don’t believe that she’s stupid. Impulsive, yes. Angry, I certainly now know. But she’s a lot more intelligent than she lets on; I can feel it.

I almost feel as though I’m wrong about all this, but... well, it’s difficult to claim that I’ve been completely closed-minded. After all, I did listen to her tracks. I found them abhorrent, but I certainly managed to listen to them. There’s a clear line between refusal to broaden one’s horizons and the simple virtue of good taste, and I firmly find myself on the latter side. I didn’t like DJ Pon3. I still don’t. However, the fact that she would do this, that she would release a purely classical track on her album in the spirit of defiance says quite a bit about her, and I can’t say I mind that concept.

        Scratch and I are far from friends. I don’t want to see her; I don’t want to talk to her; I don’t want to shake her hoof. With that said, however, no matter if I have to pay somepony off, no matter if I have to arrive in a hood and cloak, no matter if I have to have it mailed to me in packaging that would make a plain brown box look conspicuous, I will be one of the first ponies in Equestria to own DJ Pon3’s new album.

        I couldn’t care less about the badgers fighting raccoons down flights of stairs, but I must hear the rest of that song.