The Music Is Where I'll Be

by statoose

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Slice of Life, DJ P0N-3
Length: 2297

Come find me.

If you need me, you know where to find me.

Published 2012-11-01 09:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-11-01 09:40:01 UTC

Sweet Dreams and Melodies.

I slow in my stride momentarily to exhale deeply. I watch my vaporous breath escape my mouth. Breathing in, I levitate my scarf up over my nose and exhale again, letting the warmth of my breath reverberate off the fabric and back onto my face.

With a smile, I continue trotting through the cold streets of Canterlot. It's very early, and I'm one of the only ponies out here. I can just see the sun coming over the horizon. It's a freezing, cloudless day in the city. I used to hate the winter time – I much prefer the warmth of late springtime to the sting of winter. I still do, but now, I find myself able appreciate the bittersweet bite of this season more and more, just like the hot cup of black coffee in my magical grasp.

I greet the few ponies I pass with smiles and brief 'hello's and 'good morning to you's until I reach Firelight – the dance club I own. I was really fortunate to obtain this place; It sits on a boulevard where one side gives way to a two-or-so story drop down to another level of the city, and I had a huge balcony built out from the second floor above the street. The front of the building faces west, so you get a beautiful view of the sunsets.

Fortunate.

I won't be opening for quite a few hours, but I woke up long before my clock's alarm went off, so I thought I'd get up. Felt like coming here, so here I am. I draw the key from my coat pocket and turn it in the front door's lock. As I enter, I'm greeted by darkness. Reaching out with my magic like I've done hundreds and hundreds of times before, I flip on the light switch.

The many small overhead lights illuminate the big room, backed by a warm, redish-orange glow from the dance floor, which is really made up of panels of thick, hazy glass encasing hundreds of small, colored light bulbs. I make some adjustments on a thermostat on the wall, and in the complete silence I can hear the boilers beyond the walls powering up to heat the building. I sip my coffee as I walk to the raised platform at the opposite end of the dance floor. There's a certain surreality with being here when it's so utterly empty – The calm before the storm. I've always loved that feeling.

I reach my musical equipment and set down my coffee, removing my coat and scarf. I flip a select few switches on the electronic board to the side. Now, surrounded by the softly glowing blue and pink lights of my set, I feel at home. This is my sanctuary. A sanctuary of sound and light and color and warmth.

I look to the cabinet and pull out one of the many record-filled drawers, searching until I find the one I'm looking for. I smile upon located it – this is one of my favorites. It's an older piece; A jazz song that my family often listened to when I was a filly. Goodness, I can't remember how many thousands of times I've heard this song. And even after all that, it's never gotten old. Never.

I place the record on one of the turntables and set it in motion. It quietly crackles to life and channels the sound to the big speakers built into the walls around the room. I make sure the volume is high enough that I can hear it, but not so loud that it hurts my ears. I rest comfortably with my forelegs on the equipment and sip my coffee, listening to the smooth melody of the saxophone and piano duet.

Safe in my sanctuary.

After a bit, I move to the grand piano – for I am proudly the only DJ for many miles who has one among their equipment sets. I sit down and put the coffee atop the huge instrument as I adjust the audio levels of my equipment with my magic. I turn off the channel playing the piano melody, taking its place with my own hooves and keys. This is a fun little pastime of mine; I like to pretend I'm there with saxophonist, playing along. On many occasions, I take enjoyment in interspersing the dance songs I play at my club with jazz. That's always fun. The looks on the dancers's faces turn from mildly shocked to pleasantly surprised when an electronic song transitions seamlessly to a smooth acoustic piece. Some of them don't even realize they're grooving to jazz until they're well into it. It's a joy to see, truly.

My eyes are closed. I play by ear. I've heard this song enough times to know each note by memory. My body sways to the rhythm, the taste of coffee lingering in my mouth. It's a wonderful experience.

After a little while, the song concludes, and I stand and take a bow to myself. With a contented sigh I take my coffee and replace the record on the turntable with another favorite jazz piece. I cross the dance floor and collapse on a sofa at one end of the room, relaxing and letting my thoughts wander. Think I'll stay here for a while and chill, maybe work out my set for tonight. Perhaps I'll head to the park afterward – Enjoy the snow. There's always some foals who like to make snowmares and have snowball fights. Octavia's having a concert with her troupe today; I'll have time to attend that before I need to return here for my own concert. That sounds nice.

The day's been wonderful. Played with the fillies and colts in the park. Got my fair share of snow to the face. Met some fans in the park, too; Signed them autographs on request. I always sign with my hooves, not magic. It's more personal that way, I've always thought. So nice to see the appreciation my music has.

The concert was great, too! Hanging around the Canterlot elite is so much fun. It took me a while to train myself in holding back my giggles at their accents. I still have to step aside every few minutes and have a good guffaw to get it out of my system. Fancypants's accent is actually rather pleasant, though. It's a lot like Octavia's, though that's not actually her real accent, you know. As much as one may think she hails from somewhere around Trottingham or a Stirropean city, she's actually Itailian – believe it or not. She just hides her real accent from ponies she isn't close to. It was the coolest surprise when I learned the truth. Itailians have beautiful accents.

Trotting back to Firelight, I can see the sun setting directly ahead of me, but I don't adorn my sunglasses. That's for when I'm in my club.

It's around six-thirty PM now. Turning round the corner I can see a small group of ponies already approaching the club. I walk to the door and unlock it, all the while thanking these faithful souls for waiting in the cold for me. Celestia and Luna bless their hearts.

Grateful. Humbled.

We walk into Firelight, which I had pre-lit and pre-warmed before attending Octavia's concert so I could get right into the action when I returned. Her symphony had left me in an energized mood.

I trot quickly to my equipment and skim through my records, looking for just the right song to start the night. When I make my decision, I look up to find everypony taking their places on the floor, their faces looking up at me with expectant smiles.

Time to dance.

The music begins with a simple electronic kick-drum repeating over and over. I put on my sunglasses. I hear a few scattered cheers from the small crowd. With a smile, I close my eyes tight behind the shades as I rotate the nobs that control the various audio channels. This is an important part of DJing – You've got to make sure that each audio level is just right. Exaggerated bass or treble is one of the quickest ways to ruin a song. That's a mistake often made by novice disc jockeys – Turning the bass so loud that everything else gets nearly drowned out. And that's no fun.

Satisfied, I press the button to disable the 'loop' function, releasing the record and allowing the song to continue. The melody of a piano solo fades in gradually. These solos are the thing I'm most proud of when it comes to my music. There's nothing better you can do for a house song than to give it a good piano solo.

Soon, the electronic elements join in, providing accompaniment to the piano. As the music intensifies, building towards the crescendo, I prepare for the drop. Getting drops just right is another vital part of this line of work. Drop too soon and the dance floor isn't ready; Go too late and everypony sort of twitches when their natural sense of rhythm expects it, and then they understandably fumble the rest.

The music ceases as it reaches its peak. I hold my breath as I count the number of times it echoes throughout the club.

One... two... three... And I release the record.

The dance floor erupts in movement as the song drops, and I pump my hoof in the air to the beat, bobbing my head up and down. The melody is grand, cheerful, and invigorating. It's hard to not move when you hear it.

Euphoric.

The music goes on for a time, ponies moving to the beat as more join in from outside. Eventually, they get a moment to breath as the music breaks down into another piano solo – this time not accompanied by drums. My heart is warmed when I see many of the couples in the crowd engaging in slower dances that would be at home during a waltz. That's the thing my club is known for: It's not a place where ponies come to get drunk and stupid. It's a place where they come to have a good time and listen to wonderful music.

I love these souls.

Soon, the piano's pace picks up and the electronic elements re-join. Over the course of a minute, the music winds up again for the second drop, and I, having pre-set my music equipment for the drop using the setting from the first one, step down from the stage and join the ponies on the dance floor. They smile upon seeing me. I return the gesture with playful salute.

When the music stops and the crowd freezes, I let out a loud, blissful whoop.

The music explodes. Ponies dance with vigor as the beat kicks in, with me in the center of them. I dance with many ponies. The flow and atmosphere in the club becomes more energetic and up-beat with every passing second, until I feel that the spiritual warmth would be ten times again enough to chase away Windigos. It's a good night for all of us.

We're winding down now. It's getting close to midnight. The number of ponies has been moving downward for a couple of hours, and I'm getting tired. Less than thirty others remain. I recognize most of them; ponies who have been coming here for a long time.

The music is coming to its end. I've chosen a joyously happy song to conclude the night. Towards the end, it slows down into a peaceful, soothing melody that reminds me of ocean waves. The final song dies out slowly, and the ponies still on the dance floor applaud quietly. We don't want to disturb the serene mood that's been established. Music has a habit of doing that.

Spent. Contented.

You know, I've never liked the expression 'die out'. It sounds so disastrous. I've always thought of it as going to sleep. Some songs end quickly, collapsing into bed and falling asleep as soon as their heads touch the pillow. Other songs take a minute or two to calm down, and they slowly fall asleep, peacefully and quietly, waiting to be woken again when called for. Each is equally enjoyable in its own respect.

Without a sound, but with a little smile, I shut down my equipment. The blue and pink lights fade like a breath slowly exhaled. Taking my winter clothes with me, I step down. As I cross to the light switches on the wall, some ponies are still lingering. They remain to thank me personally for providing music and fun. I can't tell you how much adore these ponies. They truly appreciate my work – My art, and my love for it. And I love them tenfold in return.

After the last of them have left, I adorn my thick coat and scarf. I make one final round of the club to make sure I've not forgotten to shut anything off, even though I already know I haven't. It's more for my personal sake than any other.

I flip the switch linked to the overhead lights. I see them darken. The only remaining light comes from that warm redish-orange glow of the dance floor. Taking one final look around, I shut it off. I stand still as it, too, fades. It's a rule of mine to stay and watch my sanctuary go to sleep. Like tucking a foal into bed.

I pull the blanket over him and kiss his forehead goodnight. Then, I leave the room, carefully pulling the door closed with a soft click.

Soon, a mare with a scarf covering her face can be seen walking the lantern-lit streets of Canterlot.