//------------------------------// // Music Is All I've Got // Story: Club Vinyl // by BlazzingInferno //------------------------------// Against all expectations, and possibly the laws of acoustics, the loft apartment above the club was indeed quiet. Either that or the pungent odor from the dirty dishes in the sink was doing as much damage to Octavia’s ears as it was to her nose. She didn’t need to ask who lived here; the smell alone made that obvious. It smelled like the tiny room she and Vinyl lived in prior to her getting married. No amount of cleaning, she’d quickly discovered, could fully expunge the odor that radiated from Vinyl’s lifestyle of late nights and loud music. Compared to those days, being married to Concerto was like living in an air freshener factory. Vinyl made some room for them at the kitchen table, primarily by shoving debris onto the floor. “Just like old times, right Tav?” For the third time that night, Octavia set her cello case on the floor and sat on it. “Is everything all right, Vinyl?” “Everything’s cool I guess… just… hey you two want some soda? I’ve got tons in the fridge.” “Vinyl…” “How about you, Mr. Tav?” Concerto tried not to laugh. “I’m good. Do you two need a minute? I could eat downstairs.” Octavia set her tray on the table. “Just eat your carrot dog before I eat it for you. I’m starving.” Vinyl pulled over a chair of her own. “You can stay; it’s cool.” He joined his wife on the cello case and started on his now cold hayfries. Octavia wolfed down her carrot dog and, with a doe-eyed look, convinced him to give up part of his own. Vinyl wiped her sunglasses on a nearby rag. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Guess I should talk already.” Octavia nodded. Once again a tear trickled down Vinyl’s face. She wiped it away and put her sunglasses back on. “I’m gonna sell my club.” Concerto was the first to choke. Octavia struck him on the back while she coughed out a few words. “You’re what?” “Poured every bit I had into this place… but you saw how empty it is down there… nopony cares about this music scene anymore. Not even me.” “But… your club? This was your dream, Vinyl. When we were roommates you always talked about how much money you were raking in.” “Yeah… times were good back then. This place was packed every night. You’d be rubbing flank with three ponies at once just to get near the stage. And the music… oh don’t get me started on how I could spin those beats.” “Then what’s changed? Why is the club empty?” “‘cause I just can’t hack it anymore and I’m tired of trying. In a couple years this scene probably won’t even exist… all the kids will be so bored at night they’ll go to bed early.” Octavia bit her lip. “Despite how good of a thing that may be for society at large, I still don’t see what’s changed. You’ve been a DJ since we met in college, I can’t believe you could suddenly lose your special talent.” Vinyl shot out of her chair and threw her glasses across the room. “Well I did! I lost it… whatever it was. Besides, how’d you ever know I was any good? You hate dance music.” Octavia stood too, bringing them nose to nose. “You know I don’t hate it, I simply prefer a seat in a concert hall to being part of a sweaty mob at a rave. Regardless, I’ve seen you perform; you can practically set crowds on fire. Why do you think I asked you to DJ our wedding reception?” Vinyl shrank back into her seat. “I dunno… pity? Maybe just to tick off your parents?” Concerto laughed. “Well that second one definitely happened.” Octavia glared at him. “Not helping.” “Sorry. Seriously though, Vinyl, Tavi’s right. You’re a natural performer.” Vinyl shook her head. “Was… now I’m just a bum. They’ll probably turn this place back into a ballet studio or something.” “Have you tried changing things up, playing something totally new?” “All the time… doesn’t work. I’ve been writing new tracks since forever. My last big hit was the one we all played at your wedding.” The memory alone made Octavia’s ears ring. “You mean the time you sped up a classical masterpiece and added your electric twists to it?” “Yup. I used to play that record every Friday! Ponies would pack this place just to hear Vinyl’s Fifth Symphony again, but my new stuff just doesn’t cut it. I just need to bug out before I get kicked–” The apartment’s door creaked open and a brown unicorn stallion walked in. “Vinyl, you got any more ketchup for the dispenser downstairs?” Vinyl buried her head in her hooves. “We blew it all last weekend, LP… there might a bottle in the fridge or something.” He walked by the trio of ponies, opened the fridge, and stuck his head in. The sound of bottles and cans getting pushed around soon followed. “What’re you doing up here anyway? You’re due on the decks in ten and I’m not covering for you again.” Vinyl sighed and nodded. “I hear ya… Just give me a few; I’ll be there.” He extracted himself from the fridge with a ketchup bottle and a few soda cans in his magic grasp. “Cool.” “Catch you later, babe. Kiss?” She stood and puckered up, but he walked by as if she wasn’t there. “Buy some ketchup tomorrow before we open. Don’t forget again.” “Wait. LP? Wanna meet my fr–” The apartment door closed before she could finish. She clenched her teeth and looked away. “Tav, Concerto, that’s LP.” Octavia’s gaze was fixed on the dollop of ketchup on her plate. “So… he’s your–” “Not anymore he isn’t. Might as well dump the lousy stallion and career at the same time.” “Would… would you like to stay with us for a while? You know, until you get back your hooves.” Vinyl leaned back in her chair and crossed her forelegs. “Eh, not really.” “Well… what we can do?” “Dunno.” “Come on, Vinyl. Give me a something to work with here. If I could magically revitalize your club I would, but I doubt two concert ponies can help with that. What’s electric dance music need with a cellist and a–” Concerto stood. “What if… what if that is what it needs? What if we really could revitalize the club?” Vinyl laughed. “No offense dude, but classical and jazz isn’t gonna fly downstairs.” “That’s not what I mean. You were just talking about how the piece you played at our wedding was a big success, and you had the two of us play with you for that one.” “Yeah, but that was a gimmick track. I wrote it for your wedding, kind of like a gag gift. Nopony brings instruments like yours to a dance club.” “Why don’t we try it? If you’re already thinking about selling the place then what’s the worst that can happen?” “Somepony throws a tomato in that pretty face of yours.” He shrugged. “Hey, then you’d have some ketchup. What if the crowd loves it? Cello, violin, and synth. Either we save the club or run it into the ground.” “Heh, you’re right, it can’t hurt.” Octavia tapped him on the shoulder. “Con… do you really want to do this? Can we, for that matter?” Vinyl dove to the ground and grabbed her front hooves. “Please, Tav, I need this bad. If this works I’ll split all the profits, I’ll do your laundry, I’ll… ugh I don’t know. What have I got that you want?” “My hooves.” Vinyl released her and scrambled backwards. “Right, right.” “And I’m not going to just play a few chords over and over in the background while you spew out high energy noise. If I’m going to drag out my cello again after five miserable hours of concert rehearsal, I want to enjoy it.” “I’ll run all the songs by you first, and I’ll even draw up sheet music.” “No.” “Huh?” “I’ve seen your penmanship, Vinyl. You compose, I’ll write.” “Deal. You guys can crash here tonight and we’ll pick some tunes tomorrow morning.” LP pounded on the door. “Scratch, get your tail down here already!” Octavia sighed. “Con, would you be a dear and club LP with your violin?” He shook his head. “That’s only for soft-headed conductors; I’d break it if I went around clubbing thick-skulled ponies like him.” Vinyl snickered. “You got that right.”