Our Story
III: Unsanctioned Sounds
The Disc-O was searing through space, packed full of nitty Earthlings and celestial vagabonds Nina Boogie and Otto Funkmeyer had swept up along the way. The journey would be long, just under two Earth years. The vessel’s dashboard, a re-purposed CDJ-2000 screen, stated their estimated arrival time: July 24th, 2025. The journey forced a much-needed break in the annual frequency of Nina and Otto’s beloved festival.
The closing moments of their voyage, The Disc Odyssey, had been spectacular. Memories of Laurence Guy glued to the decks, Hamdi shattering the Melting Pot roof with unreleased Skrillex, and Still Pigeon popping AllSorts’ live music cherry. The fire maze blazed, the athletes roared, the atmosphere soared and all worries of Vulcanize disappeared.
That was, until the scarlet red, dusty giant came leering into view.
They felt it before they saw it. Vulcanice, the sonic hellscape. The unmistakable thump of government-mandated industrial vulcanized techno at precisely 128.2045 BPM shook the very foundations of the Disc-O, piercing fear into the hearts of the innocent little Earthlings. Having spent their time aboard with AllSorts of tunes: disco, dubstep, electro, indie rock, medieval melodies and pop princess anthems, nothing could prepare them for the imminent shift from musical utopia to dystopia. Why had they followed and trusted this pair of washed-up shmucks in their late 20s, long past their prime?
All those they loved on Vulcanize needed salvation from the TechNoFunPol unit. They must bring word of the musical promised land they had discovered. Nina ran her fingers across her thigh, gently brushing the seam between flesh and machine, a daily reminder of the cruelty of the regime.
As she quickly withdrew her hand, she knocked a fresh Mazzy all over the control panels. One spill too many for the CDJ-2000 screen. The 93% alcohol content instantly fried it as she cursed Pioneer’s build quality. The Disc-O spiralled out of control as Slipknot’s seminal ‘Duality’ rang out as the critical warning alarm. Earthlings and vagabonds scrambled over one another as Otto grappled with the controls. He aimed for the remote forests of Vulcanize, the heartland of the rave resistance, where detection was less likely. Although appearing chubby, weak and pale, his fingers were strong and delicate after years on the knobs, and he had some success in redirecting the damaged vessel.
Impact. Nina and Otto were thrown from the ship, their human companions scattered, limp, across the crash site. One by one, they hauled themselves to their knees, they were alive.
The scene was apocalyptic. The dust thrown up by the crash was illuminated ominously by the red Vulcanize sun and the burning embers of the decimated remains of the Disc-O. It reminded Otto of the smoke machines they had on the Disc Odyssey. Nina and Otto shared a knowing look. Had they been detected by Villashlobo and the TechNoFunPol unit?
A noise from the woods, something lurking. Nina froze, memories of fleeing the tyrants through these very same trees traumatised her. It must be the TechNoFunPol, this was it, it was over. They and their Earthling companions would rot in Villashlobo’s jail for the rest of their lives. They put their hands in the air.
(Translated from Vulcan)
“Nina fuckin’ Boogie!”, boomed a voice.
An enormously gigantic figure looking worse for wear emerged from the darkness, squinting, clearly fresh from an afters. IT was Blinders. Blinders had rescued Nina when she was shot by the TechNoFunPol unit, operating on her leg, nursing her to health and going on to support her DJ career. Here he was to save the AllSorts crew once again.
Vulcans piled out of the woodland one by one from behind Blinders’ substantial frame. A cheeky grin emerged on Otto’s face, connected again to those important to him, he launched into tales, bursting with an insatiable desire to share the musical freedom on offer in the rest of the Universe. As the Vulcans and Earthlings mingled and shared festival fables, they came to the realisation that they all wanted the same thing. Why let a little thing like impending doom ruin a good time?
Nina scrambled back and hysterically rifled through the wreckage, tossing aside smashed pint glasses, warped records, and stage fragments as she searched for something. “Aha!” she shouted, yanking out a pair of functioning speakers. They hastily cobbled together a modest rig and a makeshift stage. Amongst the eery red light illuminating the smoke, the Vulcans and the Earthlings congregated, they knew it was a matter of time before the TechNoFulPol raided the site. Otto stepped up to the decks and pressed play. The stage was set to unleash…
Unsanctioned Sounds.
