Octavia watches as her college roommate Vinyl rides her debut album to overnight stardom. Unfortunately, the sudden fame may be more than the DJ can handle. (NOT a shipfic)
"I'm going to be famous!", "I'm going to be the next big thing!", "I'm going to be a superstar!" Octavia couldn't even count how many times she'd heard her roommate claim that she was headed for fame and fortune.
But the worst part is, Vinyl might not be wrong. At least, not entirely.
This fic is inspired by the Dream Theater album Octavarium, which is awesome, and you should go listen to it. It is not, however, required to understand the story.
And for the record, this is not a Vinyltavia shipfic.
Octavia gazed out the window as she went through the motions of her cello exercises. She had been lucky enough to be placed in a dorm room that overlooked nearly the entire campus of the Canterlot Academy of Music. For the first time this year, it was warm enough to keep the window wide open. In the distance she could see a few weather pegasi shooing away a few lingering clouds.
Below the window, she could see the ponies who were finally starting to go out and enjoy the weather. A few who were walking down the road past the front of the dorm had stopped to listen. In the branches of the tree that stood in front of the dorm, birds were at work building their nest, tweeting an accompaniment to her strings. She smiled. She could hardly ask for a better-
WHAM.
The sound of a door slamming open behind her shattered the mood like a bowling ball through a stained glass window. She twitched so violently that she hit a flat note. The birds in the tree squawked and fluttered away, and the few ponies who had paused to listen cringed before continuing on their way.
Octavia sighed and put down her bow. She didn’t even need to turn around. Her roommate could never just open the door like a normal pony.
“Hello, Vinyl,” she said, making only a token effort to conceal the frustration in her voice.
“‘Sup, Tavi.”
Octavia heard the pop of the fridge door opening, and the clinking and crumpling noises of Vinyl rummaging around in it. In a minute or two, Vinyl would retrieve whatever unhealthy edible that she had come for and hoof it right back out the door to… wherever it was she spent her time. Vinyl’s tendency to spend virtually none of her time in their room aside from the occasional nap on the couch was the only thing that made the living arrangement bearable. As soon as she was gone, Octavia could resume her exercises.
She waited. Behind her, her roommate popped the top off of a bottle and guzzled it before smacking her lips loudly and belching.
“We’re outta root beer,” Vinyl announced as she slammed the fridge door.
“What do you mean we?” Octavia muttered to herself as she waited for the door to slam shut. It didn’t. In fact, she could hear Vinyl standing there. It was the headphones. When Vinyl wore them, they functioned more like small speakers. Octavia couldn’t hear the music, but she could hear the thumping that passed for a bass and percussion. How Vinyl could hear anything else was a mystery.
“What do you want, Vinyl?”
“Me? Oh, I got what I want.” There was a loud crunch, and several smaller crunches, the unmistakable sound of Vinyl finishing off a bag of chips and leaving crumbs on the floor in the process. “This is something that you want.”
“Huh?” Octavia put down her bow and turned to look over her shoulder. Vinyl was lounging against the doorway. Her usual grin seemed a little wider than usual, and her saddlebags looked unusually full. Octavia wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.
“It means you’re gonna owe me one,” Vinyl said. One of her eyebrows moved. Octavia assumed it was a wink, but the sunglasses made it hard to tell. She couldn’t remember if she had ever seen Vinyl’s eyes. It was less of a problem than one would think; Vinyl’s expression was rarely anything besides that same grin.
“And why, pray tell, would I owe you ‘one’? One what?” Octavia gingerly placed her cello back in its case. Clearly, this would not be one of Vinyl’s quick pop-ins.
“‘Cause as soon as you sign this little paper, you’ll have enough bits to buy a dozen of those old-timey bass things!”
She whipped a wad of papers out of her saddlebags and shoved it towards Octavia. It was crumpled, and had a coffee ring from what must have been an oversized novelty coffee mug on it. The mess was held together by a single staple in the corner that was on the verge of giving up.
“It’s a cello,” Octavia muttered as she hesitantly accepted the paper, holding it carefully in fear that any additional damage would cause it to shred. She perused the first few lines. “Vinyl, this is one of your homework assignments.” She read a bit further. “And it was due last week.”
“Whoops. Wrong paper.” Vinyl snatched it out of Octavia’s hooves. “I’ll have to get an extension on it. This is the thing you need to sign!”
Octavia found another clump of equally-crumpled papers in her face. These seemed to have endured the trip in Vinyl’s bags a bit better than the homework. As she looked more closely it was obvious that they were printed on high-quality paper, with an embossed seal of some sort in the corner next to some official-looking letterhead.
“Canterlot Records Incorporated?” She flipped to the next page. Like the first, it was a solid block of legal jargon. “Vinyl, what is this and why do I need to sign it?”
“You need to sign it so that you’ll be able to get your royalties from my hit single!”
Octavia stared at her, unwilling to believe what she had just heard. “Your what?”
“My hit single, duh. Weren’t you paying attention?”
“H-how do you even have a hit single?!” Octavia sputtered. “And why would I receive royalties for it?”
“Well, I don’t have one yet if you want to be technical. But it’s gonna happen pretty soon.”
“Perhaps you ought to start at the beginning.” Octavia took a seat on the sofa. If she was going to be trapped in a conversation with Vinyl, she might as well be comfortable. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Wow, you really are oblivious, aren’t you?” Vinyl began to rummage through the chaos of her saddlebag. “Feast your eyes on this.”
For the third time in five minutes, Octavia found Vinyl thrusting something in her face, so close that she could barely make out what it was.
“Will you just give me some space?” she snapped as she grabbed the object out of Vinyl’s grasp and began to examine it. “Oh my.”
Octavia found herself holding a record case. Enormous neon pink and green letters, scribbled in highlighter, dominated the cover.
DJ PON-3
Below that a crudely drawn pony caricature with enormous sunglasses stood at a badly-drawn and ill-proportioned turntable, flanked by speakers that shot out lightning bolts in a variety of eye-searing colors. The rest of the empty space had been judiciously filled with explosions, starbursts, and magical auras.
“I drew it myself!” Vinyl said proudly.
“I can tell.”
“It’s not the final version of the cover, okay? We’re going to hire a professional graphic designer to make that.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “And what, exactly, is this a cover for?”
“My debut EP, obviously.” Vinyl’s eyes shimmered, even through the sunglasses. “I’ve spent months in the sound lab putting it together! Seriously, where did you think I was all this time? Raves? Well, I did go to a bunch of raves. Gotta test out new beats somewhere. But I wasn’t partying all the time.”
“I see,” Octavia muttered. She had never really given the matter much consideration, but now that she thought about it, Vinyl had to be somewhere when she wasn’t sleeping on the couch. “You’re telling me that you’ve spent the last semester and a half secretly recording an album.”
Vinyl shook her head emphatically. “No no no! It’s an EP, not an LP. That comes later, after my introductory tour.”
“Whatever,” Octavia said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “And I happen to be eligible to receive royalties for this… whatever, because…?”
“Well, I was putting one of the songs together, you know, the one that’s going to be my first big single that’ll land me on top of the charts? And I thought that it needed a bit of a unique hook!” She dumped her saddlebags on the floor and sat on the couch next to Octavia, putting a foreleg over her shoulder. Octavia glowered at the excessive familiarity, but Vinyl either ignored it or didn’t notice.
“A unique hook?” Octavia asked.
“Yeah! You know, something to make it really stand out from everything else. So I thought I’d give the song a real classy edge.” She swept her free hoof across the air in front of her, as if she were presenting something. “So I kinda sorta maybe recorded your bass… er… cello practice and sampled it in the song.”
Octavia felt a sharp pang of annoyance, but it quickly faded into a more mild displeasure. It was hardly worth getting angry over. She still wrinkled her nose and snorted.
“What? I gave you a co-writing credit, didn’t I?
“You could’ve asked,” she grumbled.
“Yeah, I guess I could’ve.” Vinyl shrugged. “But I forgot. There’s nothing I can do about that now, but hey, at least you get your piece of the pie, right?” She held up the paperwork once more. “You just gotta scribble your name on here and when the song goes big, you’ll be rolling in bits! Well, not rolling, exactly. You get like, half a bit every time the song is played. But they’re going to play it a lot.”
“What makes you so sure about that?”
“Oh please. I know what makes a popular song.” She leaned in uncomfortably close. “Me!”
Octavia leaned back. “Of course, because you have so much experience in the music industry. I must have forgotten about all those other songs that you released.”
“You don’t need experience when you’ve got talent,” Vinyl snapped. “And I’ve got talent to spare. Except I’m not sparing any of it. I’m hanging on to all the talent. All of it. Even the extra stuff.”
“You might have talent,” Octavia said, emphasizing the ‘might’, “but that doesn’t guarantee anything. There are numerous composers whose talent wasn’t recognized until after they died.”
“Then it’s a good thing I decided to be a DJ instead of a composer,” Vinyl retorted. “I’d rather be alive when everypony wants to listen to my music.”
“And what makes you so sure that they’ll want to listen to you?”
“What makes you so sure that they won’t?”
Several answers jumped into Octavia’s head, but she bit her tongue. “Listen,” she said, “I’m just saying that it won’t be as easy as you think it is.”
Vinyl stood and took a few steps toward the door. She was still smiling, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “That doesn’t matter. Easy or not, I’ll be able to handle it.” She nodded at the packet in Octavia’s hooves. “Are you gonna sign that or not?”
Octavia looked down at the papers. She wasn’t sure that she even wanted her name on whatever it was Vinyl had done to her playing, but at least Vinyl had bothered to put it on there. And on the off-chance that Vinyl was right, perhaps she would be able to buy some new strings, at least.
“Well?” Vinyl held out a pen.
Octavia took it and scribbled her name on the line.
“Thanks!” Vinyl grabbed the papers and stuffed them back into her bag. “When my tour comes through Canterlot I’ll send you some tickets!” She threw the bag over her flanks and headed for the door.
“Vinyl.”
“Yeah?” She looked back over her shoulder.
“Good luck.”
Vinyl smirked. “Don’t need it.” She vanished into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.
Octavia snorted and glowered at the patch of crumbs that Vinyl had left on the carpet. Then she sighed and turned back to her music. Real music, composed for and played on real instruments. Like the cello. How anypony could prefer futzing around with a turntable made in a factory somewhere over something crafted by the hoof of an artisan, she would never understand.
She sighed as she looked out the window. The weather team was starting to roll in the clouds.
The first raindrops were just starting to fall when Vinyl reached the tree. It had just enough leaves to keep the rain from hitting her. She eased her bags off of her back and set them gently next to the trunk before sitting down and leaning against it.
The tree stood in a small park, which itself sat on top of a small outcrop on the north side of Canterlot. Even though it was only a ten minute trot from the dorms, it felt miles away. Looking out over the plains to the north of the mountain, she could almost forget about the city that lay behind her.
She turned off her headphones, pulled them down around her neck, took a deep breath of the damp air, and began to listen to the rain.
Octavia paused to flick her mane out of her eyes. Despite the best efforts of the local weatherponies, winter was doing its best to linger. Spring was winning the battle, but today had turned out to be one of the chilly ones. She tightened her scarf as she trotted towards her dorm, hoping that it would be a long time before she needed it again.
She gritted her teeth as she saw that the door to her room was ajar. She distinctly remembered locking it before leaving, which could mean only one thing. Well, it could’ve meant one of several things, but one of them was much more likely than the others. She pushed the door open, and sure enough, Vinyl was sitting on the couch, drinking root beer that Octavia had been saving for later.
“Hello, Vinyl,” she said, trying to hide her surprise at finding Vinyl not only in the room, but awake. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Vinyl finished the bottle before answering. “Oh, I just figured I should at least stop by to say goodbye before I leave.”
“I see… wait, what?!” Octavia rubbed her ear, convinced that the time spent practicing with the orchestra had damaged her hearing. “You’re leaving? As in, moving out and leaving the Academy?”
“Yup!” Vinyl tossed the empty bottle in the general direction of the wastebasket. It missed and bounced off the wall. “Spent all morning packing up my stuff.”
“Really.” Octavia glanced around the room. Vinyl hadn’t had a lot to pack. She never used her own anything when she could borrow Octavia’s. “And why exactly are you leaving now? There’s only another six weeks left in the semester. If you had waited at least you’d be able to transfer those credits somewhere else.”
“Eh,” Vinyl sniffed. “It’s no big deal. Something came up. I couldn’t really wait that long. Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna need any of those pesky academic credits where I’m goin’ anyway. Figuring out all that stuff was a pain anyway.”
The obvious question popped into Octavia’s mind. The equally obvious answer appeared just as quickly, almost before the question. She couldn’t help asking anyway, just to be sure.
“So if you aren’t transferring to another school, where are you going?”
Vinyl raised an eyebrow, and even through the opaque glasses, Octavia knew she was receiving an incredulous stare.
“On tour. Duh. My first single dropped a week ago and it actually managed to crack the top five! Now I’m going on tour to drum up hype for the full album!” Vinyl sprawled out across the couch, throwing her hoof over the armrest. “I’m gonna be opening for Draftwerk! Draftwerk, Octavia! Isn’t that awesome?”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Hmph.” The enthusiasm drained out of her like air out of a balloon. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Vinyl grumbled. “It’s not like you’d be familiar with the most important electronic musicians, like, ever. Next you’ll be telling me you’ve never heard of Balepusher!”
Octavia raised an eyebrow, unsure if Vinyl had made the name up on the spot to mess with her. “Who?”
“Nevermind.” Vinyl rolled her eyes. “I was actually gonna stick around till the end of the semester, and do some shows over the summer, but they liked what I showed ‘em so much that they wanted me to get on the road ASAP. We’re going all the way from Applewood to Manehattan, and it’s gonna be awesome!”
“So that’s why you dropped in?” Octavia asked, too annoyed to be impressed by Vinyl’s claims. “So you could tell me all about how great your tour is now that you’re on it?”
“Oh please,” Vinyl snorted. “Give me a little credit. I came here to say goodbye, not to rub my success in your face. Though now that you brought it up, it is gonna be pretty sweet. We’re even playing a show here in Canterlot in a month or so. I’ll see if I can score an extra ticket for you.”
“Thanks,” Octavia said.
Vinyl threw up her hooves. “Octavia, please! Try to contain your excitement! Seriously, I thought that if nothing else you’d at least want to hear it live.”
“Hear what live?”
Vinyl swung her head back and forth in an exaggerated gesture of dismay. “The song I sampled your bass on, obviously! Come on, don’t you want to hear what it sounds like when I’m actually performing it? Even you couldn’t say no to that, could you?”
“Perhaps,” Octavia answered, cursing her honesty. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t curious.”
“I thought so,” Vinyl said, a wide grin on her face. “I guarantee that you will be completely blown away.”
“I didn’t say that I would go!” Octavia snapped. “Only that I would consider the possibility. If your show is a month from now, I’ll be incredibly busy. I’ll have my end of semester composition project to work on, rehearsals for the spring concert, auditioning for summer ensembles, and that’s not even taking final exams into consideration. I may very well not have time!”
“Well, if you’re that busy, you’re gonna need a break to keep from burning yourself out!” Vinyl answered, wagging her eyebrows vigorously. “What better way is there to unwind than to get off campus for a bit and let off some of that stress at a show?”
“I would’ve said making myself a cup of tea and curling up with a good book, but I suppose it’s different for everypony.”
Even behind the glasses, Vinyl’s eyes were obviously rolling.
“You really just don’t know how to cut loose, do you? Live a little! Get out of the dorm and do something for once.”
“I know perfectly well how to ‘cut loose’.” Octavia’s voice was like ice. “I simply choose not to.”
“Yeah yeah, your loss.” Vinyl waggled a hoof at her. “I think you’d get a real kick out of hearing it, but hey, it’s up to you. I’ll send you the tickets and you can do whatever you want with ‘em. If you want to be boring and stay home and drink tea or whatever, fine, but do me a favor and at least give the tickets to somepony else, alright? No point in letting it go to waste.”
Octavia’s ear twitched. For just the briefest moment, the swagger had vanished from Vinyl’s voice. Her haughty persona had cracked ever so slightly, and Octavia could’ve sworn that a hint of the real Vinyl, the one who didn’t show up on stage, had poked through. It gave her the same feeling as if she had seen behind Vinyl’s sunglasses.
“Very well,” Octavia said, “If I am unable to attend your concert, I will make sure to give the tickets to somepony who would appreciate them.”
“Great!” Vinyl said with a smirk, her facade firmly back in place. “Well, I did what I came here to do, so I’m gonna get out of your way now. I’ll see you at the show. You know you can’t resist checking it out. Hope you enjoy having the room to yourself.”
Octavia stepped aside as Vinyl walked past, her head held high. As she watched the unicorn walk through the doorway, a flicker of emotion sparked in Octavia’s head. It wasn’t quite sadness or even melancholy, but subdued resignation. She could hardly say that she wanted Vinyl to stay, but part of her wished that her roommate’s departure would’ve been slightly more reluctant.
“Vinyl,” she said.
She spent a silent moment staring at the empty doorway before Vinyl poked her head back into the room.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going to wish you good luck, but I just wanted to say that I hope your tour goes well. And congratulations on your single doing so well. I know it… isn’t exactly my style, but obviously you did something right, and I suppose I should thank you for incorporating my playing into it, even if it was in a rather indirect fashion.”
“I… uh…” Vinyl stared blankly, as if she had expected Octavia to say something entirely different, and didn’t have any suitable response ready. “Thanks.” She stood silently for a moment. “Good luck with all your rehearsals and studying for finals and all that stuff.”
Octavia stared coldly back. “What makes you think I need luck?”
Vinyl bit her lip, not sure whether to answer, or to walk away. Then Octavia snorted and broke into a wide grin. “Really, I would’ve thought you of all ponies would’ve known better.”
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Vinyl said with a relieved chuckle. “Well, you know what I meant.” Her eyebrow twitched; Octavia assumed it was a wink. “I guess I rubbed off on you a little more than I thought. See you later.” She turned dramatically and trotted down the hallway.
Octavia watched the empty doorway for a moment. Vinyl had rubbed off on her, if only a little. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Then again, she had influenced Vinyl just as much. Maybe more. Octavia hadn’t incorporated any of Vinyl’s… compositions into her own work, after all.
She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. She bent down and plucked up the root beer bottle and dropped it into the garbage. Now was the time to relax, and a root beer sounded good. She opened the fridge. Then she closed it with a sigh.
Vinyl stared out the window of the train, watching Canterlot get smaller and smaller beside the sunset. By morning, she’d be in Applewood. By noon she’d be checked into her hotel. By nightfall, she’d be running the sound test for her first show. Her first real show. And after that… who knew? Maybe she’d be partying with Draftwerk.
She yawned. Octavia really had rubbed off on her. She shouldn’t get that ahead of herself.
She stretched and curled up in her seat, her face against the window, listening to the rhythmic thump of the train’s wheels. It would make a great beat to build a song around. Someday she would have to get around to writing one.
Octavia yawned as she unlocked the door to her dorm room. Every day felt longer than the one before it. Her professors had seemingly conspired to save all of the most aggravating work for the past week and then unleash all of it on their hapless students at the same time. Today she had been lucky enough to finish off everything before dinnertime rolled around. She had celebrated by making a few extra trips to the dessert line. Now she was ready to roll into bed and catch up on all the sleep she had lost over the past few days.
Something crunched under her hoof as she walked into the room. She looked down and saw an envelope. It was badly crinkled, doubtlessly from being shoved beneath her door. As she bent to pick it up, it became obvious who had left it. Instead of a real address, the letter simply read “Tavi!”, and the return address was a crude doodle of a pair of sunglasses.
“Vinyl,” she muttered under her breath.
She picked up the envelope, opened it, and drew out an awkwardly-folded piece of notebook paper with a coffee ring on it. Vinyl’s penmanship hadn’t improved in the slightest; if anything it had gotten worse. Octavia sat on the couch (which was much cleaner, now that Vinyl wasn’t around to eat on it) and began to read.
‘Sup Tavi!
The tour is going AWESOME but you probably knew that already, because duh, of course it is. Everypony LOVES my single. They even hum along with your bassello-whatever thing! I gotta admit that after spending so long working on that song I’m starting to get just a bit tired of it after playing it at every show, but that’s not a big deal. It’s really fun playing all my new stuff though. They’re not quite as into those songs as the other stuff, but that’s just because it’s all new to them. Once they learn the new stuff they’ll be all over it, so that’s cool, too.
I know you’re probably thinking “Oh, I am certain her performance is not quite that wonderful and she is just being a pompous fool” or something like that, so I stuck a ticket for tomorrow’s show in there with the envelope. I know you’re probably not gonna bother showing up since you’re too busy rehearsing or studying or tuning your hoofboard or whatever, but I seriously think you’d get a kick out of hearing yourself live. Well, okay, it wouldn’t really be live because it’s a sample and you’ve heard yourself play a bunch of times anyway but you know what I mean.
If you manage to make it you can stand wherever since there aren’t any assigned seats or anything, but you should totally try to be up at the front to get the full DJ-PON3 experience. I’ll keep an eye peeled for ya.
VINYL “DJ-PON3” SCRATCH
P.S. Remember, if you can’t make it or decide to be lame or whatever, give the ticket to somepony.
P.P.S. If you do come, make sure you don’t wear anything too nice.
P.P.P.S. You might wanna bring some earplugs too.
P.P.P.P.S. And pick up some aspirin on the way home.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Don’t bother buying any swag at the merch booth. When we’re in a big city they mark that stuff up to like double the regular price and I can get you free stuff anyway.
P.P.P.P.P.S Whoops too many P’s in that last one.
Octavia checked the envelope and sure enough, she found a ticket and a poorly-drawn map indicating the location of the venue. She bit her lip. Her first thought was to ball the letter up and leave the ticket at the dorm’s counter for anybody who wanted it. She had hours of rehearsing to do tomorrow, never mind studying for her finals. There was no reason to waste several hours of valuable time at a concert that she had no reason to believe that she would enjoy, despite Vinyl’s insistence. And besides, there would certainly be plenty of other ponies who would enjoy the show far more than she would, anyway.
She stared at the ticket for a long moment. Then she stuffed the ticket back into the envelope and tossed it onto her desk. It was time to go to bed. She would worry about the tickets tomorrow.
Octavia squinted at the map, then at the nearby street sign. Then she turned the map upside down. It wasn’t any more comprehensible.
“Vinyl couldn’t draw a map to save her life,” she muttered to herself. She turned to a nearby newsstand. “Could you please tell me where this is?” She held up the address.
“Sure. It’s right down the street and on the left.” He pointed. “The marquee is covered with flashing lights. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.”
She shoved the map into her pocket and headed in the direction that the newspony had indicated. Sure enough, halfway down the street an enormous, bright neon marquee sign came into view, shining like a beacon in the fading evening light. A secondary sign dangled beneath it. Large, illuminated letters read “DRAFTWERK, LIVE.” Then, in much smaller letters under an “Opening acts” heading, were three more names. The middle name, DJ-PON3, was the only one she recognized.
Octavia joined the line at the door, regretting her decision more with each passing minute. The more she looked at the other ponies, the more she wondered why she was even there. She blended in well enough. Her mane was back in a ponytail, and she wore a pair of sunglasses that Vinyl had forgotten in the room and a bright pink scarf that she had received as a gift from a well-meaning aunt with no fashion sense. But as the line moved, it became increasingly evident that she was the least excited pony there.
Octavia wrinkled her nose as she pushed her way through the crowd, looking for a vantage point from which she could actually see the stage. At least in a concert hall there are seats for everyone, she thought to herself. There were entirely too many ponies in too small a space, and the inevitable musty smell combined with the sticky sweetness of the drinks from the bar to form a heavy, dense odor that made it difficult to breathe.
The only remotely open space in the venue was the open area directly in front of the stage. She had quickly decided to disregard Vinyl’s advice; even Octavia could see that that area of the floor was for dancing, and she wasn’t about to get stuck in the middle of that. She eventually made her way up to the balcony that lined the edges of the room and found a spot near the edge. After going through all the trouble to come, she was going to make sure that she actually managed to see Vinyl. And hopefully, Vinyl would see her. Half the reason she had showed up was to spite Vinyl’s assumption that she wouldn’t.
The stage looked oddly small and cluttered. The edges were hidden by curtains and there were so many wires, cables, lights, speakers, projectors, and other bizarre electronics that she wasn’t sure where the performers were even supposed to go. She was still thinking it over when the lights went down and crowd began to roar.
If everypony is shouting like that, how are they supposed to even hear the music? She thought. Then the music started, and the question was answered. A wall of sound crashed into her, accompanied by a an assault of flashing lights that nearly blinded her, despite her sunglasses. For a moment, she thought that a stagehand had made a mistake and flipped the wrong switch backstage, setting everything off all at once. But as she waited for the cacophony to subside, she realized that it was all part of the show.
I should be glad that Vinyl recommended the earplugs, she thought.
Octavia’s ears were ringing as she stumbled out of the venue. Her expectations for the night hadn’t been high. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t really had any expectations at all. In particular, she certainly hadn’t expected to come dangerously close to enjoying herself.
The opening act hadn’t impressed her much. That had simply been a mess of various thumping noises, intermittently sprinkled with sirens and beeps. It was so muddled that she still wasn’t sure whether they had even played multiple songs. Then Vinyl had taken the stage, and she had found herself bobbing her head along to the sound. She could hardly consider herself a fan, of course, but as she watched Vinyl work behind the turntable, she could feel a slight hint of musician’s kinship.
Ever since she had been a filly, whenever she had heard music she had felt a compulsion to tap her hoof or sway or do something in time with the music. That was half the reason her parents had first put her in a music class, so she could interact with the music more closely, so she could feel it. Vinyl, or DJ-PON3 rather, clearly had the same compulsion. There were few feelings that could possibly match that of being up on stage, not only hearing the music, but creating it.
And she could see the appeal in sharing that feeling with the audience. She enjoyed her classical concerts far more, of course, but naturally she also greatly preferred participating to spectating. Sitting as still and silently as possible for hours didn’t always make it any easier to enjoy the music.
Then again, Octavia’s concerts typically didn’t involve strobe lights or the stage somehow unfolding itself into the audience for the performers to stand on. The audience participation was all well and good, but there were just too many bells and whistles. The concert was supposed to be about the music, not the spectacle.
There had been so much flash and brightness and glitter that Octavia had had a hard time even seeing Vinyl on stage. And Vinyl had most likely not seen her either. Octavia had thought that their eyes had met just before Vinyl had launched into her final song, her hit single, the one that Octavia had contributed to. But that might’ve just been wishful thinking. There were hundreds of ponies and she barely even looked like herself anyway. Vinyl probably wouldn’t be able to pick her out.
She had briefly considered attempting to make her way backstage to see if she could catch Vinyl there, but she had taken one look at the number of fans piled up at the door and given up. It would take forever to squeeze her way through, and even then there was no guarantee she’d be let through, or that she’d find Vinyl even if she was. Besides, she was already tired out.
She leaned against a lamppost and waggled a hoof in the air to draw the attention of a cab. Even with the earplugs, her head was ringing. She couldn’t imagine how much worse her headache would’ve been without them. It was a miracle that Vinyl wasn’t deaf.
A cab rolled up to the curb and she lethargically clamored in. Before the concert she had harbored a vague idea that she would do some extra studying before hitting the hay, but there was no way that was going to happen. She fully intended to flop right back into bed as soon as she got back to her room. Listening to music had never been so exhausting before.
“Where to, miss?” asked the cabby.
“C.A.M., please.” She mumbled. It would be a miracle if she made it back to the dorm awake. It would be an even bigger miracle if she ever managed to get Vinyl’s bassline out of her head.
Vinyl flopped onto her bed. Each concert took more and more out of her, but that was okay. Everypony had had a good time, and the tour was almost over. Then she could finally get to work on the album. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. The silence was wonderful after the noise and bustle of the show. It was like a cool drink of water after a run.
She grinned. Octavia had actually shown up. She still couldn't quite believe it.
Octavia sighed contentedly as she walked through the hallway of the mostly-empty dorm. Exams were a week in the past, and only a small number of students who were taking part in the academy’s summer programs remained on campus. For the first few days things had seemed lonely, but she had quickly gotten used to the peace and quiet. Not having to share a bathroom with dozens of other ponies was also a plus.
For a moment she didn’t realize that anything was amiss. She had walked into the room so many times to find Vinyl asleep on the couch that it wasn’t until she opened the fridge to get a drink that she remembered that they no longer shared the room.
“Vinyl, what are you doing here?” she asked, without bothering to even look up from the fridge.
“Hmuh?” Vinyl made a sniffing noise as she rolled off the couch onto the floor. “Oh, hey. About time you showed up. I’ve been waiting here all afternoon!”
“How did you even get in here?” Octavia asked, more irritated than shocked. “I thought they made you turn in your keys when you left.”
“I told the RA that I had forgotten something under the bed and she let me in.”
“Of course.” Octavia looked back in the fridge to see what damage her food stores had suffered. To her surprise the only thing missing from the fridge was a single root beer. The bag of corn puffs she had left on top of the fridge was nowhere to be seen, though the crumbs scattered in front of the couch were a clue. “How long did you say you were waiting?”
“I dunno, a couple of hours maybe. I kinda fell asleep.” She yawned. “I gotta say, your couch is way more comfortable than the bed on the tour bus. Not as lumpy.”
“You came back here just to sleep on my couch?” Octavia took a root beer out of the fridge. “I would’ve thought that you could afford your own couch to sleep on.”
“Well, yeah. I could afford like, a dozen couches.” Vinyl flicked the tip of her mane. “But that’s not why I dropped in.”
“Oh?” Octavia raised her eyebrow and waited for the explanation.
“I came to thank you for coming to my concert.”
Octavia blinked. “Huh?”
“What, you thought I wouldn’t notice you if you put on a scarf and some sunglasses?” Vinyl patted Octavia on the head, as if she were far more than just a few weeks older. “Here’s a tip. If everypony in the club is moshing, the one pony who isn’t kinda sticks out. I know it’s not really your thing, but if you want to blend in, it would’ve helped.”
“I… I didn’t realize that you noticed me.”
“Yeah, I tried to catch you after the show, but I never got the chance. And now that my tour’s done and I’m back in Canterlot, I figured I should stop in. I know you aren’t really into my style of music, at least not yet, so I… I guess I thought it was cool that you decided to show up anyway. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Octavia mumbled, still shocked that Vinyl had actually noticed. “I must admit that I enjoyed the show more than I thought I would.”
“Ha! That’s high praise coming from somepony who doesn’t like listening to music from less than a century ago!”
Octavia rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to list off all of the contemporary composers she knew.
“I guess this means that I owe you going to an aria or a concert-o, or whatever it’s called,” Vinyl continued, ignoring Octavia’s consternation. “Who knows, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Just don’t expect it to be any time soon. I’ve got too much stuff going on at the moment.”
“Too much? I thought you said that your tour was over.”
“Oh, it is. We wrapped up about two weeks ago. Now I’m back in the studio putting the full album together.”
“I see,” Octavia said. Normally she would’ve left the subject alone, but against all expectations, her curiosity was piqued. “And how is that going?” she asked.
“Only ‘mostly’?” She couldn’t remember the last time that Vinyl had admitted to being less than awesome.
“I mean, it’s been pretty cool so far, but the label wants the album out before summer ends, so it’s been a bit of a rush, especially since the producer keeps messing around with my mixes.”
“Ah, this must be the famed ‘executive machine’ I’ve heard so much about.”
Vinyl just shrugged. “Eh, it’s not that bad. I mean, it’s annoying, but it could be a whole lot worse. So far, the worst bit is that they want me to feature Sapphire Shores singing a verse on one of my tracks. I like her music and all, but she doesn’t know Draft Punk from Foal City. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great and all. We even had lunch yesterday. But it’s just not my style, you know?”
Octavia nodded. “I can see why that would be aggravating.”
“Yeah, it’s a bit of a pain.” Vinyl flopped back onto the couch, her posture indicating that she didn’t intend to move any time soon. “The album is going to be great regardless, but it would just be so much easier if everypony wasn’t bothering me about it.” She waggled her hooves in the air as she grumbled. “ ‘More bass!’ ‘Less bass!’ ‘This song is too long!’ ‘You should write a song about the Grand Galloping Gala!’ Ugh.”
“What’s wrong with a song about the Grand Galloping Gala?”
“Nothing, really. But I already know what I want on the album. I mean, I’ve been planning it in my head for years. The last thing I need is them telling me what to write about. Making a song about that is fine and all, but I can’t just come up with an awesome new song on command.” She was silent for a moment. Then she sat up. “Well, I can, it’s just that it wouldn’t be as awesome as the stuff I wanted to do to begin with. And my debut album needs to have all the most awesome songs.”
Octavia gently shoved Vinyl’s legs out of the way so that she could sit on the sofa. “You didn’t expect making an album for a major label to be easy, did you?” She couldn’t help but smirk a little.
“Well, no. Not easy easy.”
“Just easy for you?” Try as she might, Octavia couldn’t quite keep the snark out of her voice.
“I thought it would be easier than it ended up being,” Vinyl said carefully. “But it’s nothing that I can’t handle. It’ll just take a bit more work than I thought.”
“If you’re so busy, why did you wait around for me? Couldn’t you have just checked later to see if I was here, or left a note or something? Or did you just miss my couch that much?”
“I just needed a break, I guess,” Vinyl answered. “After the tour finished up, I thought I’d have a few days to relax a bit, but nope, I had to go right into the studio and get the ball rolling. When you weren’t here I figured it couldn’t hurt to just hang around and clear my head.”
“I see.” Octavia watched as Vinyl rolled over and wiggled as if she were trying to get settled. “I suppose that everyone needs time to relax, even superstars.”
“You could say that.” In the distance, the bells of the clock tower began to ring. Vinyl groaned. “I guess I should head back to the studio. If I’m not back soon they’ll probably give me a bunch of grief over being gone for so long.” She got to her hooves with lethargic slowness and shuffled towards the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I crashed here for a bit.”
“No. As a matter of fact it almost felt… nostalgic having you in the room again.”
Vinyl paused halfway into the hallway. Then she turned back to Octavia with a grin on her face. “You miss me, don’t you?”
Octavia scowled at her, but couldn’t help smiling at the same time. “Only a little.”
“I knew it! Thanks for letting me crash here, by the way. I really needed some space.”
“You’re welcome,” Octavia said. “To be honest, it was nice to see you again. Though next time you drop by, I would appreciate it if you let me know ahead of time.”
“Next time?” Even through the glasses, Vinyl’s eyes lit up. “You mean you don’t mind if I crash here again?”
“Listen, I don’t want you making a habit of it, but if you really do need to unwind, I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to let you borrow the couch.” She eyed the patch of crumbs in front of Vinyl. “Though I would appreciate it if you left my snacks alone. I’m sure that someone as successful as yourself can buy your own bag of barbeque corn puffs.”
“Point taken,” Vinyl said. “Besides, I prefer the hot and spicy ones anyway. Next time I come by I’ll pick up a bag of them. And a bag of barbeque puffs for you.”
“If I had known you would reimburse me for all the food you’ve eaten, I would’ve kept a tab,” Octavia said with a half-chuckle. “But I appreciate the gesture.”
“Maybe I can pay you back for all that other stuff with a tour of the studio. They don’t let just anypony in there, you know. It really makes the workstations at the Academy look barebones. It’s pretty sweet. I know you’re more about live performance than recording, but hey, it’s music, so I figured you’ve gotta appreciate it at least a little.”
“Perhaps if I have the time, I will take you up on that offer. But for the time being, I have had a long day and would prefer to do some relaxation of my own.”
“Say no more, I get the hint.” Vinyl trotted out the door and gave an exaggerated bow. “I’ll get out of your mane now. I really do need to get back to the studio anyway. The producer will have my tail if I take much longer. See you later.”
Octavia nodded. “I suppose I will. Hopefully next time you come by you won’t be having such a rough time with your album.”
Vinyl winked. “Thanks. And thanks again for coming to the concert. It really does mean a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Vinyl nodded, grinned, and trotted down the hall as if she were in a great hurry to get somewhere. Octavia watched as she vanished down the stairwell. Gratitude was the last thing that she had expected. Well, she had half expected a note of some kind, probably with one line of thanks and a dozen more of gloating. She had never thought that Vinyl would’ve taken the trouble to actually show up, much less sound sincerely grateful.
“Why would she be so happy about me being there?” she mumbled to herself as she closed the door. “And why on earth did I offer to let her come again? Though I suppose she really is working very hard...” As she closed her mouth, the dorm felt very quiet, and she felt very tired.
She went to the window, and could see Vinyl walking down the path away from the dorm. The unicorn didn’t seem to have the same bounce in her trot that she usually did. However hard she tried to hide it, everything was taking a toll on her. Octavia sighed and closed the curtains.
I wonder how long it will be before she decides she needs another break?
Octavia winced as Vinyl stomped past her into the room, making a beeline for the couch, emitting a single, long, frustrated groan as she did so.
“Vinyl? Are you okay?”
“Mmmpf,” Vinyl said, the noise finally subsiding as she buried her face in the cushions.
“That’s… not really an answer,” Octavia said as she closed the door. It wasn’t the first time that she had seen Vinyl get into a bad mood and crash on the couch. For the most part, all of her little tantrums had been preceded by some legitimate, though small annoyance, and tended to end within a few minutes, usually when Vinyl decided that she was hungry. Octavia slowly pushed her half-eaten bag of corn puffs out of view, just in case. “Come on, Vinyl. What happened?”
Vinyl made another angry grumbling sound.
“I didn’t catch that,” Octavia said. “You’ll have to speak up.”
Vinyl finally raised her head from the pillow, looked up at the ceiling, and said “UGGGGHHHH!”
“See, when I said ‘speak up,’” Octavia said, rolling her eyes, “I mean that you needed to use words.”
“Oh, don’t even start,” Vinyl muttered, half to herself. “It’s been a bad enough day without having to listen to that.” Vinyl rolled over. She lay on the couch so limply that she almost looked like she had started to melt.
“So what exactly made this day so awful?” Octavia asked carefully.
“Everything, pretty much. I’ve been fighting with my producer for weeks over my new single. Gotta build up hype for the album, you know? It took me like four days to convince him that it didn’t need that much bass.”
Octavia bit her lip to keep herself from making the obvious comment. It wasn’t the time.
“And before you say it, yeah yeah, I know, ‘since when do you think there’s such a thing as too much bass?’ You have to have a solid bassline, obviously, but even I know that it can’t overwhelm everything else in the song! He kept trying to mix it so you could barely even hear the other instrumentation. It took me forever to finally convince him that there was more to the genre than just that. How does somebody like that even become a producer in the first place?!”
“I have no idea,” Octavia said. “But you did convince him eventually, right?”
“Yeah,” Vinyl said with a sigh. “Eventually he just let me mix it myself. Got it exactly how I wanted it to begin with.” Her voice was heavy and tired. “It finally just came out last Friday.”
“And?” Octavia prompted.
“Well, the reviews started coming back in. They were… only alright. Not nearly as good as I had hoped.” She gritted her teeth before forcing out the last few words. “They thought there wasn’t enough bass.”
“Oh.” A brief temptation to smirk flitted through Octavia’s head, but she suppressed it. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” Vinyl shoved a magazine clipping in Octavia’s face. “Read it yourself!”
Octavia took the paper and smoothed out the crumples it had gotten from being stuffed in Vinyl’s pocket. “‘Listening to DJ PON-3’s latest single, she comes across like an old mare struggling to keep up with the young roughnecks—especially tragic since she so recently was part of that cutting edge herself. She goes loco for every frequency except bass; the result is melodic, even catchy in an anemic way, but lacking that undefinable drive that made her earlier singles so exciting. No doubt this track will be a huge hit among headphone-listening hipsters who’ll never darken the doorway of a dance club. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to hope that this was just an experiment, and that PON-3’s upcoming album will better showcase her strengths. Rating: 6.3/10.’” Octavia lowered the paper. “Well, it’s not exactly a glowing review, but it’s not that bad. And it’s only one review.”
“It’s not just one review,” Vinyl said bitterly. She reached into her bag and pulled out another scrap of paper. “Look! ‘DJ PON-3: slouching towards irrelevance?’” And another. “‘Electronic wunderkind delivers a disappointing follow-up.” And another. “‘WHERE’S THE BASS?’” She flung another half-dozen scraps in the air and flopped back onto the couch. “Some are better than others, but they’re all pretty middle-of-the-road. I didn’t get panned, but none of them are that great either.”
“They’re all like that?”
“Well, not all,” Vinyl admitted. “Pierogi Scruff gave it zero stars, but he basically hates music in general and never gives anything a good review. I got a perfect ten from Rolling Pone, but I could send them a recording of me blowing my nose into the microphone and they’d probably give it at least a seven and a half.”
Octavia began to gather up the bits of paper that Vinyl had scattered on the floor. “Since when do you care about what the critics say?”
“I don’t,” Vinyl said emphatically, a little too emphatically if anything. “But somepony else might. It just doesn’t look good if somepony looks up your song and sees reviews that look like that. Besides, what if… oh never mind.” She rolled over to face away from Octavia.
Octavia thought for a moment before speaking. “What if what?”
“You know, it’s just… I spent all that time fighting over how to mix that song, and then it comes out and that’s the thing that everybody complains about. What are the chances of that? I can’t believe I screwed that up!”
“Everypony makes mistakes,” Octavia said. The platitude was a bit cliche, but it was true and it was certainly applicable. “It’s nothing to feel too bad about.”
“That’s not the problem! What bugs me is how he was right! He’s never listened to anything that wasn’t a top ten hit, but he was right! He’s been bothering me about the different mixes and song structures instruments and production and all this stuff and I’ve been fighting him over all of it!”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” It was another cliche, but again, it fit too well not to use it.
“I think it’s more than that, though,” Vinyl mumbled into the couch cushions. “It’s like, at first I thought he was just an idiot, but now I think I know what’s going on. He does know what he’s talking about, but it’s just not helping me! All the changes he’s making. He’s not just trying to change random things, it’s like he’s trying to take me out of the music. It just took this song to get me to recognize the pattern. Every single thing he suggests makes the music sound more like every other song. Any time I want to do anything that isn’t ‘normal’ I have to fight tooth and nail for it.”
“Yes, I can see why that would be quite aggravating,” Octavia said. “But then again, isn’t it his job to do that?”
“His job should be to help me make a good album! A good one. One that sounds like the kind of music I make! Not one that sounds the same as everything else!”
“So you want to create something less popular?”
“I… I don’t even know anymore!” Vinyl began to beat her head against the armrest. “I want as many ponies as possible to like my music, obviously, but I want it to be my music. Something that sounds like something I would make, not something that sounds like I’m riding the industry’s coattails. Even if it might not sell as much.” She rolled back over. “I know it’s kind of dumb, and I can’t expect my record company to take the hit for me, but you’d think that they’d at least want to put out something unique.”
Octavia cocked her head. “But didn’t you know about this before you were signed to your label? I know I’ve heard you complain about it before.”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t be surprised. There are just so many other bands and artists who manage to put out such great music despite all of that. And I was supposed to be one of them. And now…”
“What, you don’t think you can anymore?” Against all odds, Octavia found herself getting annoyed. Not at Vinyl’s presence or even her moping, but at the notion that Vinyl would dare to consider giving up in the first place. “All of that talk about how you were going to be the next big thing and create the greatest… whatever album ever? After making me sit through that you’re just going to give up on actually doing it?” She sniffed. “I may have had my doubts that you would truly be that excellent, but I never doubted that you would always keep trying!”
“Who said I wasn’t going to try!?” Octavia could feel Vinyl’s glare through the glasses. It probably wasn’t quite as fierce as Vinyl wanted it to be. Her voice wavered as she talked. “I’m just… it’s hard to know exactly what I’m trying to do. I want to make an album that sounds like me, but I have to make something that will sell, and I have to do it with the label looking over my shoulder the whole time. It was so much easier when I was just making the music I wanted to make. All I want is to make music that I can be proud of, you know?”
“Of course,” Octavia nodded. “That’s all that any real musician wants, after all.”
“Yeah, I guess. I just- wait just a second.” She nearly sprained her neck as she turned to look at Octavia. “You actually think of me as a musician? A real musician?”
“Listen,” Octavia said. “I will admit that our tastes may differ by quite a wide margin, but after everything you’ve been through, I cannot question your dedication. Whether that song is excellent or terrible or mediocre I have no idea. But I do know that it was the result of you trying to create the best music you could, right?”
“Obviously. You think I try to make lousy music?”
“All I am saying is that just because the critics weren’t as happy as you hoped doesn’t mean you can’t still be proud of your song. Whatever anypony says about it, it’s still yours. If you aren’t satisfied with how it turned out, then take what you learned from this one and make the next one even better.”
Vinyl looked up and finally smiled. It wasn’t a very confident smile, but it was there. “Yeah, you’re right. So what if they didn’t like it as much as I did? That experiment was just a stepping stone to something even more awesome. Besides, there are plenty of albums that ended up being legendary even though the critics hated them.” She rolled back over, but now her pose was more natural, more relaxed. “I could handle that.”
Octavia cleared her throat. “I think you might be getting ahead of yourself there.”
“Better than getting behind myself,” Vinyl said with a shrug. “You don’t mind if I take a quick nap, do you? I haven’t been getting too much sleep lately.”
“Go right ahead. I was just about to head out anyway. Just make sure you lock the door when you go.”
Vinyl closed the studio door. Everypony else had already gone home. She couldn't record anything else tonight. That was okay; it wasn't what she had come in for anyway. When nopony was there, the recording booth was the quietest place in Equestria.
She pressed a key on the keyboard. A single bright note filled the room. She closed her eyes.
It was pure tone, filling the air like light filling a dark room. She smiled.
The door creaked as Octavia poked her head into the bar. She didn’t go to bars often, and one step in, she remembered why. The air smelled like smoke and spilled drinks, and even in the dim light she could see that every piece of furniture in the place had seen better days. At least it was quiet. The place was empty except for the bartender and two ponies muttering quietly at each other in a booth in the corner.
She double-checked the note that Vinyl had slid under her door to make sure she had gotten the time and address right. Not that it guaranteed she’d find Vinyl. The unicorn had never been very good at keeping to a schedule. She peered discreetly at the booth where the two ponies were murmuring. One was purple, and surrounded by at least a dozen mugs. The other was a blue pegasus with a brightly colored drink with an umbrella and long twisty straw.
Octavia stuffed the note back into her pocket and headed for the bar, gingerly stepping around the peanut shells and sticky patches that covered the floor. The bartender didn’t even look up, seemingly intent on polishing an empty glass.
“Um, excuse me?”
He looked up with tired eyes.
“I’m, uh, looking for somepony. She’s a unicorn. White coat, blue mane?”
The bartender wordlessly nodded towards the far end of the bar. Hunched at the final seat, leaning against the wall, was Vinyl. She wore a black jacket, with the hood up. In the shadows, Octavia had missed her.
“Vinyl, are you okay?”
“I’ve done better,” Vinyl croaked. She rattled the half-melted ice cubes in her glass. “Can I get a refill?”
“So what are you doing here of all places?” The barstool squeaked as Octavia took a seat.
“Not much, just trying to forget about the fact that I couldn’t prevent this album from being a disaster.”
“Vinyl, we talked about this.” Octavia watched as the bartender poured a brown liquid into the glass. “Even if this album doesn’t turn out the way you want, it’s just a step on the way to the next one, right?”
“Well, that was the idea, anyway.” Vinyl took a swig of her drink. “But after working on it for so long, the more I think about it, the more it feels like there might not even be a next one.”
Octavia gulped. “What makes you think that?”
“There’s the fact that working on the last few tracks has been like banging my head against the wall,” Vinyl growled. “Even without the producer screwing me up, I’ve barely been able to get anything done.” She drained the glass, except for the ice cubes. “I thought once I got all the suits out of my mane I’d be good to go, but I just can’t get things the way I want.”
“Vinyl, I’m sure you’ve had an off-day or two before,” Octavia said gingerly. “I’m sure in a day or two you’ll be back in the groove, so to speak.”
“An off-day, yeah. But this is like an off-week. Or an off-fortnight or something.” She slammed the glass down. “Yo, barkeep. Another.”
Octavia eyed the empty glass. “Uh, Vinyl…”
“Relax, it’s just root beer. The last time I drank any hard stuff and tried to make music I just about broke my head in half. Besides, this is cheaper.”
“So you’re going to give up just because of a few bad days?”
“Of course not,” Vinyl snorted. “But it’s more than that. After those first few singles, I just know that everybody is just waiting to see what’s going to happen. Everypony wants to find out whether I managed to catch that magic again. I just know that some of them have made up their minds already, and there’s nothing I can do. Before, it was all about what I would be able to do, but now that I think about, that doesn’t even matter. Even if I made it exactly how I wanted it, it could still flop, because it’s not what they want!”
She chugged the entire glass and slammed it down on the bartop.
“You knew from the beginning that you weren’t going to be able to please everypony,” Octavia said carefully. “You told me that you just wanted to make music that you could be proud of.”
“Yeah, but now I don’t know if I’ll ever even get the chance to do that. I’m just about driving myself crazy just to get something done before the deadline, never mind polishing it the way I want it.” She stared at the ice cubes in her glass. “Everypony is expecting something great after that EP I put out, and no matter how much I bust my rump it’s just not… going to…” She waited for the bartender to give her another refill.
Octavia sat silently, trying to think of something she could say that would make Vinyl feel better rather than worse.
“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m rambling,” Vinyl continued. “I just needed to get it out, you know? It’s just, I knew I’d have to deal with all this crap, but I thought I’d be able to handle it, and now it’s getting to me. I’ve been working my tail off, and I’m not even sure it’s worth it.”
Octavia was starting to wish she had a drink of her own. “Maybe you don’t think so now, but wouldn’t you feel even worse if you gave up? After all this is over and you’ve had a chance to rest. How would you feel to know that even after pursuing your dream so far, that you gave it up because you thought it wasn’t worth it?” She brought her hooves down so hard on the bartop that the glasses rattled.
“I don’t know how your album will turn out. Maybe it’ll be a hit. Maybe it’ll flop. But if it does, don’t let it be because you stopped trying. I can’t sit here and tell you that you’re going to succeed, but I can tell you that you can’t give up on this, because if you do, you’re going to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life for throwing away the one thing you wanted more than anything else.”
Octavia found herself breathing heavily. Both Vinyl and the bartender were staring at her. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that.”
“No, no,” the bartender grinned and shook his head. “I’ve had to listen to plenty of pep talks, and that was pretty good.”
“Yeah, I think I needed that.” Vinyl sat up straight for the first time that night, cracking her back. “Ugh, I’m such a mess. Can’t believe I needed you of all ponies to give me a kick in the flank.”
“You’re welcome.”
Vinyl eyed the clock that hung on the wall above the bar. She groaned.
“Time to get back to work?” Octavia asked.
“I just realized how much time I’ve spent moping, that’s all. Thanks for giving me a kick in the flank.” Vinyl stood, wobbling her way towards the door.
“You sure there wasn’t any booze in there?”
“My legs are asleep, okay?” Vinyl mumbled. “You coming?”
“I was just going to grab a quick drink before heading home.”
“Alright, I’ll see you around, then. Oh, and if you want” —she looked back over her shoulder— “you can put the drink on my tab. Later.” The door squeaked, and she was gone.
The bartender went back to cleaning the glass. “So, what’ll it be?” he asked.
Vinyl lay on her couch, staring up at the ceiling, trying to listen to the silence. Her head throbbed with music. The songs she had already written, the songs she was working on, even songs she had never heard before and were just drifting into her mind. All of it jumbled together into a dissonant mess, as if her thoughts were all trying to drown each other out.
She closed her eyes and saw the score for the music she had composed. Everything was out of order and shuffled up, a pile of notes all trying to be played at the same time. The blinking lights from the consoles and mixers and microphones began to flash, leaving discolored spots hanging in front of her.
The dull ache pulsed through her head, as if her thoughts were trying to escape, to get away from the grind.
Octavia sighed as she approached her door. She knew that she had locked it before leaving, yet it was open a few inches. Not to mention the trail of crumbs leading to the opening.
Oh boy, here we go…
She pushed the door open.
“Hello, Vinyl.”
“Hey.”
Octavia stopped. It was Vinyl’s voice, but it was so fatigued and strained that it barely sounded like her. Vinyl didn’t look like herself either. Her mane hung in frazzles around her face, and instead of stretching out over the couch, she hunched in the corner as if she had simply dropped herself there and couldn’t muster up the effort to move.
“Are you okay?” Octavia asked.
“I’m… okay.”
Vinyl raised her head and Octavia nearly jumped back in surprise. Vinyl wasn’t wearing her sunglasses. That alone would’ve been enough to cause a jolt, but actually seeing her eyes was a greater shock. They were red and bloodshot, as if Vinyl had just finished a long cry. For a moment it looked like somepony else’s eyes looking out from her body. It wasn’t just that she hadn’t seen Vinyl’s eyes before, it was that the expression simply didn’t work on Vinyl’s face. She had never, in all the time she had known her, seen the unicorn with anything other than a smile. It might be a resigned smile, or a forced smile, or a smile so subtle it barely qualified as a smile, but it was always there. Now it was gone.
“Vinyl, what happened?”
“The album’s finished,’ Vinyl mumbled as if she were talking to herself. “It turned out okay, I guess. It’s not as good as it should have been; it’s not as good as I wanted. But I got it done. And everypony thought it was pretty good. Not great maybe, but they liked it at least. It’s… finished.”
She let her head sag forward, as if there were a spot on the floor that had captured her interest.
“Are… are you sure that you’re alright? You look a bit… haggard.”
“I don’t even know,” Vinyl said softly. “It’s been so long since all of this started. And after everything that’s happened, all the tours, all the work I’ve put in, all of the stress, all the worrying about how it would turn out… I don’t know what to do now that it’s over.” Tears began to well at the edges of her eyes. “I don’t even know how to feel about it. Relieved? Proud? Sad?”
“Tired?”
“Huh?”
Octavia took a seat on the couch next to Vinyl. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone over the past few months. Right now, you need to give yourself time to relax. Time to let yourself recover.”
Vinyl was quiet for a while.
“Tavi?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Why would I think that?”
Vinyl snorted. “‘Cause I made such a big deal about being a superstar, just about killed myself over it, and all I have to show for what I put myself through is an album that’s only kinda decent? I sure feel like one…”
“Do you want me to be honest?” Octavia asked.
“Yeah.”
“I must admit, I did think you were a bit of a fool.”
“I knew it!”
“Be quiet.” Octavia jabbed her lightly in the flank. “I wasn’t finished. At first, yes, I thought you were an egotistical fool with an overinflated sense of herself.”
“Figures,” Vinyls muttered.
“But as it turned out, I was not entirely correct. After seeing how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve achieved, and how much of yourself you invested in following your dream… I must admit that it is hard not to admire that.”
Vinyl didn’t answer.
“Vinyl? I swear, if you fell asleep on me when I was trying to have a heartfelt moment—”
“I’m awake!” Vinyl said. “I just… I didn’t think you’d actually say something like that. Especially not after how things turned out.”
Octavia shrugged. “You may not have met the ridiculously lofty goals that you set for yourself, but by any reasonable standard you’ve accomplished quite a lot. How many other ponies your age have already gone on tour, and had a hit single?”
“I guess so,” Vinyl murmured tiredly. “It just feels… eh.”
“Vinyl…” Octavia narrowed her eyes at her. The expression was ineffective; the DJ still hadn’t bothered to look at her. Octavia settled for using a sharper tone. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Mnnh.”
“Words, Vinyl. I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It’s nothing.”
“If it were nothing, you’d just tell me. What happened?”
Vinyl let out a long, low, sigh before answering. “My label dropped me.”
“What?” Octavia gasped. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Eh, don’t be. I kinda figured it was gonna happen,” she shifted in her seat. “It didn’t sell quite as well as they were hoping, no thanks to them. I can’t really blame them, though. That album didn’t meet anypony’s expectations.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Octavia asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I’m out of the business entirely or anything. There are plenty of local labels who would sign me, and I’ll still be able to get plenty of Canterlot gigs at the places I was playing before. Though after all this, I’m not sure if I’d want to go through that again. I just don’t know.”
“Well, it has been a while since you actually thought your way through things,” Octavia said with a smirk. “Like I said, right now you just need to rest up.”
“I know that, I’m just not sure what I should do? I barely even remember what it’s like to have free time.”
“Hmmm.” Octavia thought for a moment. “You do still owe me a concert visit, you know.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“Yes. Next week I will be playing in an ensemble at the Canterlot Conservatory. It’s my last performance before classes begin again. I would be honored if you would attend.”
“I don’t need to dress up all fancy, do I?”
“It will not kill you to lose the sunglasses and comb your mane for one night.”
“I guess not.” Vinyl grinned, and for a moment she looked like her old self. “Especially after how you dressed up for my concert. I still wish I had gotten a picture of that.”
“Do not give me any ideas,” Octavia said.
“Maybe it’ll give me some ideas. After all, the most popular song I release was the one that had your cello playing on it. Maybe I could carve out a niche as an Electro-classical fusion musician or something. You know how to play instruments other than the cello, right?”
Octavia just glared lightly at her. “I thought you were going to relax.”
“Oh, right.” Vinyl leaned back. She still looked limp, but this time it was her natural, lazy kind of limpness. “It’s just hard not to. Music’s always on the brain, you know? I guess that’s what made all this so draining. It used to be something I did for fun, just to enjoy myself. Then it turned into a job. I never knew something I liked so much could be so much of a chore.”
“I could have told you that.”
“Yeah, I know. Heck, you probably did tell me that, and I just ignored you. But you know what?”
“What?”
“As much of a pain as it was, I still love it. I wish things could’ve turned out differently, but I still want to make music as much as I ever did.”
Octavia nodded. “Well, of course. Nopony who loves music as much as you would ever give up on it just because of this.”
“That’s right! I’ve still got way too much music to make. Just… not right this second.”
“I see. You just enjoy your break, alright?” Octavia stood up. “You’ve earned it.”
“That’s my plan.” Vinyl slowly leaned to the side toward where Octavia had been sitting a moment early. With a satisfied grunt, she flopped over onto the sofa. “I think I’m gonna take a good, long nap. It’s been a while since I really got some good sleep.”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “You had better not start snoring.”
“If I do, just poke me or something.”
“I certainly will.”
Octavia took a seat at her desk. Vinyl’s sunglasses sat on top of the stack of sheet music that she had been studying. Octavia picked them up. It was odd to think that Vinyl usually saw the world through them. She held them up to her eyes. Everything looked more or less the same, only a bit dimmer.
Behind her, Vinyl began to snore.
Octavia shook her head and set the glasses aside. She could live with it for the time being. Vinyl had earned the rest, after all.
Octavia gazed out the window as she ran through her final cello exercise for the day. The view of the campus never got old, though on some days, like today, it was a bit on the dreary side. For the first time this year, it was cold enough that she had to keep the window closed. In the distance, she could see weather pegasi starting to roll in some rainclouds.
Below the window, ponies were hurrying to and fro between the buildings, trying to minimize the time they spent in the chilly air. Along the road in front of the dorm, she could see a few ponies stumbling along, shouting to each other over the hiss of the wind. Brown leaves were being peeled from the tree in front of the dorm, revealing the empty nest of some birds who had already flown south and wouldn’t be back until winter had passed. She sighed. What a lousy day.
The door creaked open behind her.
She kept playing, finishing out the last few bars of the piece. It was a slow piece of music and somewhat melancholy, appropriate for the dreariness outside. At least somepony was there to hear it.
She smiled and put down the bow. She didn’t even need to turn around. There was only one pony who it could possibly be.
“What’s up, Vinyl?” she asked as she stared out the window into the gray sky.
“Hello, Octavia,” Vinyl answered. “I just came by to grab a snack before my next class starts.” Octavia heard Vinyl rummaging around in a cabinet. “Ah crap, I could’ve sworn I still had some oat chips in here. Guess I’ll have to grab something out of a vending machine.”
“You can have some of mine,” Octavia said as she began the process of putting her cello back into its case. “Grab a root beer while you’re at it.”
The fridge door squeaked. “You sure? There’s only one left in here.”
“I’m going shopping again tomorrow,” Octavia answered as she closed the clips on the instrument case and carefully stowed it in the corner. “I was going to pick up some more anyway.”
“Thanks.” Vinyl popped the top and took a swig. “Oh, while I’m here, I thought you might want this.” She held out an envelope with only one of the corners bent over. Presumably it hadn’t been in Vinyl’s saddlebags for very long.
“What’s that?” Octavia said as she took it.
Vinyl grinned. “One of your royalty checks.”
“Of course.” Octavia opened the letter and chuckled. “Four bits.”
“I know, I know, it’s not going to exactly buy you a dozen cellos or anything, but it’s something, right?”
“I do need some more rosin. Or perhaps I’ll use it to buy more snacks.” She put it on her desk. “Speaking of which, how is your new song coming along? The one you were making out of the recording from my violin practice?”
“It’s coming along alright,” Vinyl answered. “I have all the tracks recorded, but I’ve barely done any of the mixing. I would’ve had it done, but I have a big paper due Monday, so I had to put that on the back burner for the time being. And I’ve got a gig on Friday that I wanted to debut that song at, too. It’s gonna be a long week.”
Octavia snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’ve been through worse.”
“You know it.” Vinyl nodded. “As long as I don’t get hit with musician’s block or whatever, it should be fine. Besides, I already have the cover for it done. Look!” She rummaged in her saddlebag for a moment and withdrew a napkin that seemed to be colored purely with highlighter. “Isn’t it sweet!? I drew it during my Griffon History class. The professor was going off on one of his tangents about his ‘culinary tour’ through the Griffon lands again. I’ve heard that whole spiel like four times already, so I didn’t miss much.”
“I see,” Octavia mumbled as she examined the napkin. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking at.
“You like it?”
“It’s very… bright?”
“You’re holding it upside down.” Vinyl grabbed the napkin and flipped it over. It still didn’t really look like anything. Maybe modern art. “I mean, I need to get it smoothed out a bit.”
“That is true,” Octavia said. She handed the napkin back to Vinyl. Just looking at it was giving her a headache.
“I can’t wait until it all comes together.” Vinyl was smiling so widely that her voice squeaked. “Now that I know what I’m doing, this new EP is going to be the greatest thing to hit the Canterlot electronica scene in years!”
“Vinyl…” Octavia’s voice was stern.
“I know, I know.” Vinyl rolled her eyes. “I’m getting ahead of myself again. But come on, you’re the one who told me that all the crap I went through with that last album would only make the next one better, right?”
“That is true.”
“Besides, this time I know what’s coming. I know just how hard it’s gonna be, and how much it’s gonna take out of me. Besides, this time I’m sticking to the smaller, local labels. I’ll end up back on top, obviously, but this time I’m gonna work my way up to that.”
“It’s good to see you have some perspective.”
“Oh, don’t start up with that again,” Vinyl said. “We both know I got the skill for it. This time I won’t bite off more than I can chew.”
“Have you heard back from any of the labels yet?” Octavia took a seat on the sofa.
“Not officially, no. It’s not like I’ve submitted the finalized versions of any music yet anyway. I just sent out a few demos.” She dumped her saddlebag on the floor and sat on the edge of Octavia’s bed. “It’s looking pretty good though. That album I put out this summer might not’ve been as good as I wanted, but at least it got me some name recognition. They know I can make music, I just have to convince them that my good stuff isn’t just a fluke.” She flicked the tip of her mane. “Which won’t be a problem.”
“If you can find the time, anyway.”
“Well, yeah. But I’ll get it done. After almost killing myself trying to finish that, suddenly scrambling to write a ten-page paper at the last minute doesn’t seem so bad.”
“It would be even easier if you wouldn’t wait until the last minute,” Octavia said with a smirk.
“Pfft. Listen, you talked me into coming back to catch up on my classes, but I’m not that into all this academic stuff. Especially not the stuff that doesn’t really have to do with music anyway. At least the theory classes are useful.”
“I’m just saying, it would be easier to get some of it out of the way so it won’t be hanging over your head while you’re trying to compose.”
“Eh, maybe.” Vinyl shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to do that when I have to get ready for those weekend gigs. Gotta prove to everypony that I can still draw in the crowds, you know?”
“And how is that going?”
“Pretty good, I guess. Lots of ponies were happy to see me doing small venues again where they don’t have to pay their left legs to get in. Then again, I have to deal with all of those ‘fans’ who are all angry that I dared to try and find a wider audience.”
“They think you sold out?”
“Yeah. And honestly, they’re not totally wrong. I mean, I did end up changing things because the label wanted me to.” She sighed and looked down at the floor. “I should’ve known something like that would happen when I first signed on. Ugh. I thought everything I came up with would be so great that they wouldn’t bother trying to make me change anything. And yeah, I already know, you could’ve told me that.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Octavia said, a grin plastered across her face.
“Riiiiight,” Vinyl answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, this time things are gonna be different. I’ll still get to the top, obviously. But this time I’m not gonna almost kill myself getting there.” There was a pause. “Hopefully. I’ll get you a demo copy as soon as I can get it to sound halfway decent.”
“I look forward to hearing it. I’m curious to see what you did with my recordings. Maybe when you finally release the song I’ll get another four bits.”
“Hopefully it’ll be a little more next time,” Vinyl said with a snicker. “Just don’t get your expectations so high. I learned the hard way that they can’t all be winners the first time around. Got to work the kinks out, you know.”
Octavia nodded. “I know, but still, even if it isn’t perfect, I think I’ll enjoy it.”
“Good to know you’re still a fan at least. Anyway, I gotta get to class now. Thanks for the food.”
“You’re” —the door slammed behind Vinyl as she rushed into the hallway— “...welcome.” Octavia started to turn away when she heard the door open again.
“What were you saying?” Vinyl asked.
“Nothing. You’d better get going.”
“Okay. Bye.” Vinyl vanished into the hallway, leaving the door ajar.
Octavia shook her head and smiled as she got up to close the door. She never would’ve thought that she’d ever look forward to hearing the music that Vinyl composed. She never would’ve thought that she’d even consider it “composing”. Or even music for that matter.
Then again, she never thought that she would see a day when Vinyl would actually take her advice about something. Anything was possible now. She might wake up tomorrow to find that the world was sideways. And yet, here she was, still practicing her cello in her room and being interrupted by Vinyl. She glanced out the window and saw Vinyl galloping madly against the wind in an attempt to somehow reach her class on time. Some things never changed.
