//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: The Sound And Fury From Seaddle 
// by Nic-Fit 
//------------------------------//

The equipment cart was parked neatly away from the trail, sitting in a small grove. Despite the fact that it was now early afternoon, its occupants were fast asleep, save for one. She was perched on top of a large amplifier, silently studying a magazine. Equestria Music Weekly. She flipped the page to the section she was looking for, grinning as she scanned the page. The album reviews section, exactly what she was looking for.


~



Mudhinney - Superfluff Bigmane
Really now. Is this what the world has come to? This sorry excuse for 'music'? This is not music, this is a sorry collection of filthy, unintelligible garbage. This is just noise, no more, no less, and it pains me that this is what the current state of affairs in the songwriting world has to offer.

The invention of enchanted instruments should have heralded in a new golden era for music. Instruments could be played louder than ever, and therefore to larger crowds, spreading the gift of music to all. The refined melodies, reliable rhythm section, and all the rest for all to hear. Instead what we get is this. This 'album' abuses this wondrous new invention, using it to create horrid crunching, grinding effects over the instruments, leaving only a fuzzy mess behind where there should be sweet lyre tones, and driving punchy cello. It completely destroys the spirit of these finely crafted pieces of working art. The 'musicians' have defaced the names of their instruments in the name of whatever it was they were attempting to achieve with this project of theirs.

Each song is an abrasive, angsty, repulsive insult to the song writing establishment. The lyrics lack any poeticism or imagination, and I judging the quality of them were written hastily with little to no forethought. All the tracks are largely the same, hurried, erattic percussion guiding the sludgy mess of lyre and cello angrily, up until the last song, which descends into a boring, abrasive droney heap.

Frankly, I cannot think of a single reason why anypony should purchase this record. It is vile, and I would urge all of you reading to not even spare it a passing glance. It is the musical equivalent of shoving gravel into the ears. I shall not even acknowledge it with a single star, and as such it will remain unrated.

I hope you are all very pleased with yourselves, Ms. Lyra and Ms. Vinyl, and especially you Ms. Octavia. The rest of the musical establishment certainly aren't.



~


Octavia smirked to herself and let out a chuckle. This was both the reaction she wanted and expected from the musical establishment. They would never understand why music like theirs was being surpassed by, as they called it, "a sludgy mess" because they were all to stubborn to accept change. Yes, it was a recent change, but it was change none the less. She stood up and let out a sigh, they were going to have to work harder to annoy the 'classical' crowd, as they were now known, now that they knew what to expect.

Besides, this new style of music is sort of their own fault anyway.

But for now, she had to focus on waking the rest of the band up. They were on tour after all, and still had a schedule to keep to, lest they miss their next gig. So, she started nudging them, they started rolling over and complaining in response. Same as every other morning. Afternoon. Whatever.