The noise was noticeable a full block away from their destination. Not distinctly, Octavia couldn't actually make out what was playing. Which, in her mind was a blessing. Those damnable students they saddled her with wouldn't know real music if hit them in the face with a harpsichord. And now this crazy mare who always wore her sunglasses (so original) insisted on bringing her out to... here.
The sidewalks seemed to have more gum than cement. Not literally, but nevertheless.
"Trust me, this guy working tonight is the SHIT. You'll love it." Vinyl said, for about the fourteenth time.
"Why would I want to listen to excrement?" Octavia raise one eyebrow.
"No, I didn't say he's shit, I said he's THE shit. There's a difference."
Octavia raised the other eyebrow.
They got into the club quickly. There's never a line at the back door, but you do have to belong there. Same as a concert hall, really, except for the smell. No expensive liquor, overpriced perfumes or fine cheeses here. Just the stench of bodies. And that godawful noise.
The professor had asked his students to bring in samples of music they enjoy so that they could be shown how the basic principles of musical theory applied to all music, even popular music. Of course, it would be the teaching assistants doing the showing, so he would have to endure their abysmal tastes. Octavia was pretty sure the TAs were being punished, but had no idea why. Maybe Professor Sonata was just an evil bastard.
Of the four samples listed, only one singer had any ability to sing. One would think that, if one wanted a career in singing, where one sang, one would learn to sing. Apparently that's an old-fashioned idea now.
Vinyl lead Octavia past the detritus of the club. It was a curious mix of things; mysterious electronic equipment of unknown purpose, and crates or cheap liquor. Truly awful stuff for the most part. Octavia supposed if they have no taste in music, they might not have any taste in whiskey either. She was glad she ate beforehoof.
Vinyl opened the stage door. Octavia winced and cowered at the volume alone; It was atrocious. So was the song.
That's what makes you beautifuuuuuuul
If she ever met one of the ponies responsible for this crime, she would buck their jaw straight out of their face. In a ladylike manner.
Even Vinyl winced. "Why are they playing this shit? Where's Digital?" Octavia was covering her ears with her hooves. "Don't worry, this will all be over soon."
Even faster if we just left now.
Another pony squeezed past Octavia. Green colt, it was hard to see much else in the weird lighting, but he only gave Octavia a quick glance. He did hoofbump Vinyl, though, before stepping up to the equipment. He didn't bother with introductions; he simply started doing whatever it is one does with all those buttons.
The new song started with a simple rhythm. Just a thumping baseline and a couple drum machine line above. Every few bars, he would add a new sound, one new layer. It was not quite what Octavia had expected, it was...
"Stately," Vinyl yelled in her ear. Her eyebrows wiggled vigorously. Octavia had know idea what she was talking about.
The music proceeded. New sounds added, some taken away. It went on, maintaining only the lowest baseline. Then Digital started a new song. Same underlying baseline, maybe a hair quicker. Above that though, he laid in some strings.
Specifically, Marezart's Sonata in G Major. Octavia's jaw dropped.
The base was way too fast for the piece. Specifically, it was twice as fast as it should have been. Exactly twice as fast. Digital added some extra elements, but nothing that would distract from the main melody. Just theme and variations. Over thumping base, for no real reason.
The third movement was even more astonishing. It was that same horrid song from before but... good. Somehow, he took that ridiculous piece of amateurish drivel and made it better. All he really kept were the vocals, which sounded so tinny now you couldn't tell how bad or good the singer was, but he added a new melodic line that matched the rhythm of the lyrics perfectly.
By the fourth movement, Octavia almost knew what to expect: Presto, Rondo. Of course, the whole thing was presto, and the whole style lived on variations on a theme, but to find such a thing in a place like this...
After the fourth movement, Digital put a CD in and played something he had obviously made ahead of time. He walked back to Vinyl and gave her a warmer greeting, saying something in her ear. Vinyl introduced them.
"Digital, this is my classmate Octavia. Octavia, this is my coworker Digital. Octy, you can close your mouth now."