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 2012 - The End Of Music

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dannblood
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PostSubject: 2012 - The End Of Music   Mon Jan 15, 2007 4:26 am

Just to remind some people to not post on this thread, which you all should know. And that this is fictional. (Hopefully.)
There will be 3 series of 10 parts. Ill be updating when I can.

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Issue #1 - The New Business
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Setting - The year 2012, and music has been banned by all governments around the world due to the huge rise and popularity of music, which now influences people far more efficiently than any campaign a politician could run, along with rising worries of the effect of rap and metal on children.
After all, any musician knows (or should know) that they never play for themselves - they perform for the people. And when performing to the people they show what the people need in their lyrics.
In several discussions, all the governments of the world come to a conclusion. Music must be banned.
Overnight, raids are performed on music stores that sell anything musical are raided, all the contents are taken away and destroyed.
After the 2010 instrument registration laws, sweeps of musicians houses are conducted and all the instruments and anything to do with music is taken. Including their lives.
Fortunately, for the people, most musicians had been following these discussions, and had hid their instruments, saying they had already destroyed them.
The people who had hid their instruments had their houses soundproofed, and the soundproofing specialists did that for free. Soon all pubs, clubs, and a new underground circuit of musicians.
------------
I am an ordinary musician called Trey. I have a fair amount of talent, and when I compose I didn’t bother with the theory part, except for scales for solos. Whatever sounded good was good by me. And it worked.
In 2011, after 5 years of trying to get a band together, I had finally managed to form one, and release the first record.
In the band I had Al (bass), Brett (drums) and Louis (singer). Through 6 of my original songs and one cover song, we released an EP through their own recording.
We had paid for the distribution of the albums, and the making of the albums.
We were a huge success, the second band to hit it big out of Newcastle, Australia. Just when we had started to make it big, and turned around the debts and started making profit, the music ban came through. We hid our instruments in a hotel basement in Sydney then drove home the next day.

I was just thinking about this, fists clenched so tight it looked like I might break a table, when the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Trey? It's Daniel."
I thought of which Daniel it could be. It could only be Daniel Johns, ever since the music ban I had given all the other Daniels I knew the treatment. The angry sort of treatment.
"Oh. Hey."
"Yeah. Hey, me and the band are doing an underground gig tonight. Wanna be the openers?"
"Hmm... openers for Silverchair? I've had worse gigs. Alright, give me the time and the place."
After getting the time and address, I called up my other band members and told them the news. They were all in.
I grabbed a 6-pack of beer from the fridge, stuck them in a cooler full of ice and picked up his surf board. We still had 6 hours till the gig, so plenty of time to kill.


Five hours later, me and my band (Musical Myth) reached the destination. We looked around shiftily and began moving our stuff into the underground destination, accessible through a trapdoor in a pub.
We set up, did some music checks, sat down with some drinks and waited.
20 minutes had gone by and Silverchair showed up. The big guns, the guys who made it big. I got up and shook hands with Daniel.
"Glad you got us here. How much are we getting paid tonight?"
"You’re getting 20% of who ever shows up. We're getting 30%"
My brain explodes. My band is getting payed twice as much as what a main act would get.
"So these guys are desperate, eh?"
"Yeah. But then again, look at the size of this place. This could hold maybe two thousand people."
It's then I decide to check out the size of the place we're performing at. It’s like a mini stadium. There’s the mosh-pit, capable of holding about 700 people, and around the edges there is raised seating. On one side there’s the bar and on the other there is more elevated seating. All the elevated seating is capable of holding around 1300 people.
But that’s by my estimates. The same as Daniel's.
"Alright. How long are we performing for?"
"You’re performing as many songs as you can."
I think for a moment. We have 12 songs ready for the next album, plus the original 6 from our EP. We could work in another 4 or 5 covers.
"Alright lads, i’m heading out to the van to get some goodies."
I walk outside, and from the van I picked up a few boxes labelled "Toohey's New. Extra Dry." But what they really hold is copies of Musical Myth's EP "The Lost Album" and the album that didn’t debut called "Titanic Riff." I'd also brought a load of cover songs that we had recorded before.
I intended selling the cd's $10 each, and splitting the cash with my band 25% each. He checked the entry fee. $30. Bit pricey, but after 3 months of a music ban people were getting desperate to see live music. Already groups of people were beginning to arrive.
I went back inside and left the boxes behind the bar.
"What were in those boxes?" Daniel asks.
"Cd's I intend on selling."
"Aw, damn! I forgot."
I grinned. More sales for us.
At ten to seven, we walked up on stage. I taped a sheet of paper next to each band member so they knew what song they were up to. I looked at the 2500 strong crowd, and there were still people coming in. The people in the mosh pit could still move freely though.
The band looked at where some of the people were going, and looked up to see that there was second row seating. Classy for an underground joint.
At 7, Louis, Al, Brett and I all got ready to play. After some checks on the double-clicking foot pedals Brett had, he looked up and said "Let's bloody rock this joint."
Louis and Al laughed, and I smiled. Good encouragement from Brett did Louis and Al the world of good.
Louis stepped up to the mike, and spoke into it.
"You all ready to rock?"

To be continued...


Last edited by on Sun Feb 04, 2007 11:05 pm; edited 10 times in total
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Mon Jan 15, 2007 7:44 am

Issue #2 - Endangered Set

The crowd instantly roared back.
"Alright. Let’s go lads."
We started the first song, called Bear the Bass. Al thumped into the opening bass solo, and after 16 bars, Myself, Louis and Brett got into it.
We blasted through the first song, much to the crowd’s pleasure.
Louis spoke again through the mike.
"Alright. That was good. We're going to do a few covers now. Hope you'll stick with us."
I instantly launched into the next song, Come Clarity, originally done by In Flames. This was an instant crowd pleaser.
We blasted the way through the rest of the set. 25 songs in all, we chose to play an additional 6 covers that were on the cover cd.
After the show I stepped up into the mike.
"Thanks for the great audience, you were awesome. Like, if I had a crazy monkey and injected it with pure energy I wouldn’t have got a better vibe than I did from you guys. If anybody wants to buy any of our cd's we'll be selling them from behind the bar. If the barkeeper will give us the courtesy."
The bar keeper instantly nodded, getting the feeling that there were drinks to be sold.
We packed up, put the stuff in the van, which conveniently had tinted windows, parked it out the front and went back down to sell our cd's. Several times we had to go and get more boxes from the van. When the crowd was satisfied, the other guys took the remaining cd's and cash and made our way to the van.
"Wow, these guys were hungry for music man. We sold about 1000 copies of each album, give or take. That’s 10 g's right there."
"Yeah, Al." I grinned. "Strategical marketing. They loved us, and would rather pay 30 bucks for all our cd's so they wouldn’t have to wait to hear us again."
Louis spoke up.
"Oi, so how many people rocked up tonight. Cos you know that that 2 and a half g's won’t get any of us through too long, it might be a while before we get another gig."
He was right.
"I think the bar tender said 3000 people came. So we get 20% of 30 bucks per entry... that’s another 18 g's for the band. So that’s another 4 and a half g's each."
Impressive figures for an underground gig.
"Sweet dude."
I looked at Brett.
"Yeah, I know, good cash."
"No man, I just ran over the calculations, the bar is making 45 g's for tonight just from entry."
Louis smirked.
"Yeah, we would have made a load more than what we did tonight if it wasn’t for that bitch of a ban."
All four looked around bitterly, hoping that out of the shadows a politician would walk past.
"Oh well. Let's go inside and enjoy the show."
We walked back in to watch Silverchair. Halfway through the set, the crowd was pumped. They were doing a good job. They continued blowing away the audience with their set. They finished, and gave a final thank you.
That’s when the trap-door busted in. Dozens of cops came in, and began heading for the stage. The bouncers could do nothing. Nobody could do anything. Until I got up and charged across the room, closely followed by Louis, Al and Brett.
The cops were almost at the stage when we crashed into them.
"You bloody pigs!" Brett screamed, before throwing his left shoulder straight into the chest of the front-runner. From a former footy player, that must've hurt.
The crowd errupted, swarming on the cops. A few made it to the stage, where Silverchair had put down their instruments and started fighting. But it was useless. They were all nabbed.
The cops left the instruments and headed for the door. Most of the cops followed. Those that didn’t were either knocked out or trapped.
I ran out with around 100 people following. The cops got in their cars and drove away, Silverchair in the back seats.
I panted, blood dripping from his forehead where I had taken a baton hit. The rest of the band were fine except for their knuckles being busted and having their hearts torn from their chests by the abduction of Silverchair.
We packed up Silverchair's set, put it in our van and then helped clean up the underground joint to make it look like a disco floor. They had the equipment around the back to make it a real disco floor. With a bit of lying and luck, the pub could get out of it.
I dropped the rest of the guy’s home, and went home. I parked the van in the garage. After cleaning up my forehead, I pulled out his favourite guitar and began playing some soulful tunes.
After about half an hour I got up and walked to the cop station. I bailed Silverchair out by fooling a junior officer. Silverchair payed me back, and I went home with the thanks ringing in my ears.
Louis was waiting out the front of my house when I got there, and we started talking about the night’s events.
Just as Louis was about to leave, an armored cop car pulled up in front of my house.
"Trey Lead, we have a warrant to search your house. If we find any evidence of musical content on your property, we have authority to detain you on-site."

To be continued…?
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Thu Jan 18, 2007 9:53 pm

Issue #3 - Memories

The breath catches in my throat. I can’t talk. My knees start trembling at the possibility of being sent to the big house. Louis looks scared.
“What!?” I say in a voice trembling with mixed emotions – hate, anger, fear, confusion.
“I have been issued a warrant to search your house and detain you on-site. We also have suspicions that you have deliberately lied and fooled a junior officer into believing that the band “Silverchair” were simply innocents at a party.”
“WHAT!?!?”
“I have been issued a warre-…”
“I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!? JUSTICE!?!?”
Louis looks at me. The cop drew his stun gun.
“Trey, calm down, don’t let the tourettes get to you.”
I turn on Louis, blood pumping through my body at an abnormal rate.
“YOU DICK, TOURETTES IS A DISEASE WHERE PEOPLE CAN’T CONTROL THEIR SWEARING!”
“And their anger.”
I turn to look at the cop, who I had temporarily forgotten was there.
“YOU STAY OUT OF THIS YOU PIG, YOU F-..”
ZZZZAPP!
Suddenly I can’t speak; i’m on the ground, writhing with pain. I open my mouth and scream obscenities that would make a child cry. Ok, bad example. I scream obscenities that would make a doped up child cry.
ZZZZAPP!
The bastard got me again! I see Louis talking to the cop in a matter-of-fact manner. You bloody dog Louis, I think to myself, you bloody putrid dog!
I start fazing out, going into a stupor like state. Suddenly unwanted memories fill my mind and vision to block out the present.
My first memory, the first day at school, when I fell and skinned me knee swinging on a rope, when I was bullied by a kid, my first kiss, my first girlfriend, the day I smashed the kid who bullied me, when I thumped my little brother for messing up my relationship with the girl I loved, my first crushes on TV and sports stars, when the girl down the road from me died, only 13, when I picked up my first acoustic and electric guitars, when I performed a song me and 3 other people had organized in just 4 days before playing in front of my whole year and all of their parents, my first shift at my first job. All of these came randomly, showing no distinct timeline, sometimes showing me at 18, sometimes at 8, sometimes at 3, sometimes at 20. The memories kept surging through.
The day I was first called a shredder, the session I caught my first barrel, the night I saw one of my best friends die, the first time I got drunk, the night I got addicted to drugs, the night I came home to find a dozen people to bash me, the shame on my parents faces as I walked in with a bloodied face, leaving half of the dozen guys unconscious on the sidewalk, the others running away. The shame that made me feel so bad without them, or even me, understanding why they had come.
Still the memories flooded my brain. The day I broke up with the girl of my life, the night I performed in front of 25,000 people at a local concert, the weeks when I got so depressed that I simply didn’t get out of bed, the weeks when I felt so good that everyone I knew was suddenly filled with exuberant energy, so many good and bad memories…
And, just when I thought my mind was settling down, I was entering another world, the world of the past… I entered my body from the time I was 18 at my first day of university, attending my first bachelor of music class.
The world started to settle, and I somehow fall down into this old world, actually believing that it was my first day, the current events slipping into the back of my mind. I try and grasp onto them, but they continue to float away…
I pull into the car park at the university. I take the key from my car, my green P plates displayed on the front and back of my new car. I look into the mirror to see my reflection. Messy hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, muscular enough, white teeth and the same brooding look I had when I checked the mirror 10 minutes ago.
I get out of my car and open the boot. Even though I had double and treble checked the stuff before I left, there was no harm in checking again. Just to make sure everything’s alright.
In my mind doubt errupts. I grit my teeth. These damn hormones just piss me off sometimes. I get back to it and check the contents of the boot. I pull out a gaming brief case I purchased from the Games Workshop place my brother used to go to. Looked quite nerdy, but inside I had organized all my pedals. Looking at them I checked them off in my head.
Acoustic pedal, metal/distortion pedal, wah pedal, death metal/mega distortion pedal, octaver pedal and my harmonics pedal. Everything right there. I check my leads. 2 20 foot leads and 3 10 foot leads. Everything in order there. I open the back car door and check the amps. I have the Peavey and the Fender, two beasties, two of the best amps you could get in the country.
I go back and take out 3 guitar cases. I check them. The 12 string acoustic is fine, my two Ibanez 6 strings are fine. I go and open the front seat, and check the case on the passenger side. The Ibanez 7 string is fine. I breath a sigh of relief, even though the only way my gear could be damaged is if I was in a car crash. That would be a hell of a lot of money blown.
All up, the amps cost about $2500, the footpedals around $1500, the leads about $200, and the guitars around $8000. Boy those 3 years of saving had paid off, plus a healthy pay-off for winning the guitar award at the end of last year at school. $2000 prize money, so I went out and bought that beautiful 7 string with the extra $1000 I had left in my bank account.
I was just about to lock up my car when I heard a voice behind me.
“Hey, are you here for the Bachelor of Music course?”

To be continued...


Last edited by on Thu Jan 18, 2007 11:21 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Thu Jan 18, 2007 11:20 pm

Issue #4 - The Band Forms

I turn around to see a guy walking towards me, slightly shorter, with brushed but messy hair. He had olive skin, a wide smile and brown eyes. Good humor radiated off him.
“Yeah. I guess you are?”
“Yeah. I’m Louis, I sing but I thought that taking this course would be great credentials.”
“Awesome. I’m Trey, i’m a guitarist just trying to improve my skills and get credentials. I really want to get together a band and become the best band in the world.”
Louis looked at the determination I hope I had on my face.
“I don’t doubt it. I’d love to join you man.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question, but at that moment a man appeared at the doorway to the hall.
“All new Bachelor of Music students, enter here please!”
I closed my mouth, and re-opened it.
“Let’s GO!”
I lock up my car, and run with Louis into the hall. We walk inside, and Louis gasps, but I just look around interested. They have a studio, drum kits, guitars, pianos, brass instruments – basically any instrument you could name.
Louis was fascinated, but I had seen all of that before. I was simply interested at the technology. I had seen better, and in most cases have better, and the studio looks like it was built for the exact purpose of… well, recording. But I think of brutal recording, of musicians so great that they would rock the world so hard that they would cause an earthquake.
The man who had spoken was standing at the back of the hall near a desk, seats surrounding the desk about 10 metres from it, giving anyone sitting a good view of the board and teacher.
“Everyone over here please! Take a seat.”
When everyone had taken a seat, the teacher glanced around. Me and Louis were on the outer left side, and the teacher started looking from the outer right side. Some people he recognized and smiled at, others he didn’t know and his face remained unchanged. He glanced at me, and I saw his face light up like a beacon on a dark night.
Turning to the rest of the class, he began.
“Class, I am Martin, I will be teaching you through your course of Bachelor of Music. If you fail a single assessment or drop out, you will still have to pay your fees, and you will not be able to attend the final tests. In other words, you will not get the Bachelor of Music.”
“Now, I will begin today’s lesson after I call the roll. Any questions will be answered after the roll.
Martin went through the roll. I heard the names and saw the person call out, registering them in my mind. I counted about 40 odd students. At the end of the roll, Martin stood up.
“Alright. So, any questions?”
Louis raised his hand.
“When will we start performing?”
Martin replied instantly.
“Right away. This course will be different from previous courses. There will be single tasks, where you will do the task by yourself. There will be mixed tasks, where you will work with a group of random people on assignments. And then there will be multi tasks, where you will be with the group I have allocated you to. For each member in that group, on multi tasks, you will have to complete the task by the number of people in your group. So, if I ask you to do a multi task where you have to compose a country song, your group will have to compose 5 country songs if there are 5 people in the group.
“Alright, so I want to get started, anyone can nominate a song they want to do and anyone that knows it can do it. I will judge your performances on how well you go. Ok, anyone want to do anything?”
Everyone started mumbling to one another. I grinned and stood up.
“In the Name of God by Dream Theater.”
Everyone present fell silent. Martin looked half impressed, half shocked.
“Are you sure you want to do that song, Trey?”
“Yeah, i’m sure.”
Martin swallowed, and looked at the class.
“Anyone game enough to play this song?”
A guy around the age of myself and Louis stood up. He had short, neat hair, was very muscular (although I think I can bench-press more than he can), had the same coloured skin as me, and blue eyes. He had a couple of drum sticks sticking up from his back pocket. I remembered his name. Brett.
“I’ll do it,” he said in the normal Australian accent. He seemed laid back, but I could tell he was raring to get on the kit. “That is, if Trey is good enough.”
I grinned. “I’m just hoping you don’t hurt yourself playing this. This song is for guys who are the best.”
Brett flashed a confident grin back at me. I knew at this moment that this guy would stick with me if I could pull off this song. This incredibly insane song with one of the most complex solo’s ever. You had to listen to the song to understand how over-awing it is for someone to play it.
Louis stood up. “I can sing it, it’s difficult, but I can do it.”
I turned to look at him beaming like the morning son.
Another guy stood up, he had shoulder-length hair, very thick black hair. He had the same tan that myself and Brett had. He had black eyes and was heavily built. This guy was called Al.
“I can play it… and i’m willing to bet cash I can hold it longer than any of you.”
The four of us grinned stupidly at each other. Martin looked at us, a ray of hope in his eyes.
“Alright… get set up and let’s hear it!”


To be continued...
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Fri Jan 19, 2007 12:00 am

Issue #5 - Mysteries

The four of us ran out to our cars, and grabbed all the equipment needed. I grabbed my 7 string Ibanez, and quickly tuned it to the correct tuning. I grabbed the Peavey amp and 2 10 foot leads. I ran over the food pedals. I grabbed a 20 foot lead and took the distortion and acoustic foot pedals out. Time to do this my way.
I ran back inside with all my equipment. While I was setting up and plugging in, Brett came in with some extra cymbals and tom-toms. He set up the kit the way he wanted it, and did tuning checks on the drums. Al came in right after with a 5 string bass, a Fender bass amp, 2 leads and a distortion foot pedal. Louis was already ready.
After everyone was set up, I started the song. During the 15 minutes of the songs duration, I saw the look on everyone present. Martin was on the verge of tears at the beauty I gave this song with the effects pedals. The song was perfect. We then played another 3 songs, Honor Thy Father by Dream Theater, Tread the Floods by Trivium and Dani California by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. All of these were several years old, but they were still the best.
It was then and there I knew we had a band. The band of my dreams. The band that would rock the world until it fell apart. The band that wou-….

I woke up. I was lying on my couch. My body felt terrible. I rolled off, and Louis ran over to me. He picked me up and put me back on the couch.
“You alright man?”
I think hard. I can remember the dream, but I can remember what happened.
“Oh man, those stun guns are bitches…”
Louis laughed.
“Yo dude, I had a dream about when we first met.”
“What? At the first Bachelor of Music course?”
I grin.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I remember that, you were a shredder. You got even better too. Boy we finished that course fast.”
I giggle for a few seconds, but then it starts hurting.
“Yeah… a 4 year course and we did it in half the time, and started recording our own stuff… 18 songs… boy that was a hectic album, but every song was a #1 hit.”
Louis looked out the window.
“Yeah…” he sighed. He stared for another minute before turning to me. “I got you off. Convinced the cops had done a raid on a simple bar and taken those guys into custody. None of the cops that raided had a straight story. They were similar, but not straight. So you’re off the hook.”
“Good!” I gasp. “Well dude, I need to get some sleep, i’m absolutely wrecked.”
“Sure. I’ll catch ya later.”
I heard Louis shut the door. I got up, checked everything was locked up, and climbed the stairs to bed sleepily, and painfully.

It’s 2 weeks after the gig. Myself, Louis, Brett and Al are standing outside the main building for Telstra, Australia’s largest phone company.
Brett looks at me.
“You sure your friend works here?”
“No, I think that he works in parliament house,” I reply sarcastically. “Of course he works here. Now we just gotta go in and talk to him, and hopefully get him on our side when the time comes.”
Al looks at the sky and sighs.
“Dude… this plan is risky. We will always back you, but if it all goes wrong…”
“Then I will take the blame.”
Al, Brett and Louis look at me. They see in my eyes that i’m telling the truth.
“Alright, let’s go then.”
We walk in the office, and request to see the tech manager. I flash a pass I was given 3 years ago. We are told to go and take the service elevator to floor 52. We get to the floor, and walk in. There is just a small, young Indonesian man in the room. He here’s our footsteps, and turns to look at us. A smile lights up his face.
“Trey, I haven’t seen you for ages. How are things? Damn, what a stupid question. How are you coping?”
“I’m alright. Brett, Al, Louis, this is Mustafa, Mustafa, this is Brett, Al and Louis.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mustafa beamed at them.
“Nice to meet you to,” replied Brett, Al and Louis, all of them mumbling.
“What’s the matter?” Mustafa asked, his smile shrinking a bit.
“Well, Mui, I have a favor to ask. A very serious favor. A favor that could reverse everything that has happened in the last 4 years.”
“Sure, what is it?” Mustafa asked, an air of seriousness now in the room.”
I tell him what I need him to do when the time comes very softly. His eyes widen.
“Will you do it?”
Mustafa looks scared.
“Will I be caught if I do?”
“Not if another old friend will help me.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
I think for a second.
“Then I will go to extreme lengths to ensure the ban on music is reversed.”
Mustafa thinks for a minute.
“Ok. Good luck guys.”
We all thank him and leave.

Another week after the meeting with Mustafa, I hop off a helicopter on a navy ship. I have a second pass I was given several years ago. I walk into the Navy computer room. This room is where the top secret stuff goes on. There is once again a single person here, a small but strong built young man.
He looks up at me.
“Hey Trey. Sup?”
“Nothing much, Dan. Will you be able to do this favor for me when I ask you to?”
I once again lay out my plans in a soft voice. Dan’s reactions are almost identical to Mustafa’s.
“So I will work with Mustafa for how long?”
“As long as it takes. If you both do your job properly, and we hope, then we may reverse the happenings of the last 4 years.”
Dan thinks for a minute.
“I’m in.”
I smile.
“Great. When I call you, you come to where I tell you and we work on the plan. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I can. I’m with you man.”
I smile again.
“Brilliant.”
I get back on the chopper and head back to land, satisfied and happy that the results of this will be positive.

Oooh, the suspense! To be continued...
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Sun Feb 04, 2007 11:33 pm

Issue #6 - Organization

I wake up. Today is the day. The day we get everything set. I get up and turn on the shower.
In the shower, I begin thinking. Is this the right thing to do? Of course. What if everything goes wrong? It won’t. Ever since I talked with Dan 6 months ago everything has run smoothly.
I get out of the shower and get dressed. I pick up the phone and auto-dial. The receiver picks up.
“Hello?”
“Yo, it’s Trey. Today is the day.”
“… Alright, I’ll be there in an hour, k?”
“K.”
I hang up, and make another phone call.
“Hello?”
“Yo, it’s Trey. Today is the day.”
“… Alright, I’ll be there in an hour, k?”
“K.”
I sit down and pick up my guitar from a corner stand. I strum some soulful tunes, running through random scales and chords. I find a pattern in C, G and A. Funny, I think, 5 years ago I would never have been able to get a decent tune from those 3 chords.
I begin singing.


“Ohhh, what happened to the times of glory,
The time where my love was here,
The time of my life, the never ending years,
Oh my love, that I hold dear,
Has now left me, my life, me…”

I stop singing, a tear rolling down my cheek. I go and put my guitar down, grab a plane ticket and head out the front door with my keys.

An hour later i’m standing outside a small shabby house on the outskirts of Sydney. Looking around, I see a huge amount of people standing around trees, all looking at me. One steps forward.
“Yo, Christian, I finished all the sound-proofing and setting up of equipment. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Christian. You’ve been a great help.”
Without a word, Christian moved away. As he gets in his car and starts driving away, another car approaches down the road ahead. It pulls up, and Mui and Dan get out.
I nod, and everyone around moves forward. I open the door, walk down the hall and down a set of stairs. The group of about 200 people follow.
As they all file down a shake each ones hand. Looking at each one, you wouldn’t guess that these shabby strangers were once the greatest musicians ever.
I close the door after them, and they all look around in awe at the studio.
The whole place is sound-proofed. Everything is white - walls, carpet, ceiling, with a big black sheet hanging off one wall. In front of the black sheet are a dozen top-of-the-line amps, hundreds of guitars, each with its own individual owner in the room, and one of the biggest drum kits in the world.
A small, skinny man walks over to the kit, and starts banging on the drums. He gives his nod of approval.
“Glad my kit didn’t get knocked up.”
Everyone nods. I get a phone call, and I walk back up the stairs and open the door. A skinny man walks in.
“Everyone, this is Jack, he’ll be filming and mixing.”
Jack starts setting up 3 cameras from different angles.
“Alright, so everyone knows the drill, each band performs their best song. I want this quick and clean. Mui, Dan, theres a laptop in the corner.”
Both of them moved over, started it up and got to work.
“Everyone else, have a seat and enjoy the show.”

To be continued…
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dannblood
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PostSubject: Re: 2012 - The End Of Music   Wed Feb 28, 2007 2:10 am

Issue #7 - The Pain

“Alright, first of all I want the following to perform first. Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, John Petrucci, Victor Wooten and Terry Bozzio. You will perform in that order with your groups, or solo. After you’ve finished respectively, come see me.”
I walk over to a vacant desk. Sitting down, I turn my attention to Mui and Dan working in the corner. I stand back up and walk outside. I dial a number. A man picks up on the other end.
“Yo, Jesse here.”
“Hey, Jess, it’s Trey.”
“Oh yeh? How’s it goin’?”
“Meh, alright. Shit since the music ban. Anyway, I have a big favor for you to pull.”
“Depends, what is it?”
“Depends how committed you’ll be to it.”
There is a pause, and when Jesse continues speaking I hear uncertainty in his voice.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well, you’re the host of A Current Affairs, right?”
“Yeah. What’s that got to do with things?”
“Well, I want you to announce for everyone to be watching their tv’s on any channel in a week’s time. Don’t ask questions, just do it. Tell them to be watching their televisions at 6 o’clock.”
“Alright, but…”
“Remember, no questions. Just do it. Just think along these lines - if you do it, you’ll hear music again.”
There is another pause.
“Alright. That’s cool. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I hang up, satisfied that everything is taken care of. Nearly.
I dial another number. Another man picks up at the other end.
“Yo?”
“Hey, Bear, it’s me, Trey.”
“Hey brother, long time no see… or talk… we barely talk anymore… geez…”
“Yeah, well that’s not my problem. I need you to spread the word through TV networks - and I mean ALL of them - that there will be a live broadcast run by me at 6 o’clock at their respective time zones.”
“Alright, see what I can do…”
“Dude. Please. I’m begging you. Take every ounce of energy you have to get this going. Trust me, it’ll be great. Tell the stations to allocate the time-spots.”
“Alright. Ill talk to ya later dude.”
I hang up again. Finally satisfied that things may work out. Things may just work out.
Looking around, I start thinking of things to do. Those 5 recordings will take at least an hour longer.
I pull out a cigarette, light up and take a long drag. I breathe out slowly. I know I shouldn’t smoke, but hell, it’s the first pack i’ve had, curiosity got the better of me, I needed to know what it’s like. I check how many cigarettes i’ve got left. 3.
I take another drag, the smoke cooling my nerves. I slip into a strange state of thought. I see random things - waves, sections of movies, riffs from songs I used to practice for hundreds of hours to get right.
Suddenly I feel angry, and take another drag of my cigarette, but this is an angrier breathe, a quick breathe. My blood starts pounding, and I snap out of my thoughts. I finish the cigarette, throw it on the ground and stamp on it with the heel of my shoe.
I open the boot of my car and pull out a crowbar. I walk around restlessly with it, and suddenly I snap. I turn around and stomp towards a tree. I start running, and raise the bar in both hands.
Uncontrollably, in a rage, I begin pummeling the tree. I keep on swinging, I just can’t stop. The crowbar begins to bend and distort under the weight of the blows. It ends up crumpling like tin foil. I throw it into the surrounding shrubbery and begin hitting the tree.
Tears well up in my eyes, the pain in my fists that should be there, i’m oblivious to it. After a while I stop, staring at my now bloody knuckles.
It slowly dawns on me that this is it… this is what I am without music, without my life. I’m a wreck, hate-ridden, despairing. And I see that my plan is the only way to bring music back to life.
Jack comes outside.
“Hey, those 5 have finished their recordings… are you alright man?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes, and wipe my knuckles down on my jeans.
“Yeah. Time to get this done.”

To be continued...
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