fact or fiction
Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the music universe.
The Music in You
She came out of the dressing room in a the new pair of jeans. He was with her; her hype man. It was her favorite thing about him. On the days where she felt her lowest-lows, he was there to lift her from it. With him- she was never alone, never stayed low, and always felt equal.
The Color of Noise
The colors of noise can be idealized similarly to the colors of a prism. White is the combination of all and black is a void of all. There is then the range in between. The color prism goes from red to violet and noise spectrum contains such colors as pink, blue and brown, all which affect listeners in different ways.
A Star People walked past Philip as he kept singing and playing his guitar. Some dropped money to encourage him. Music has always been a part of Philip's life since he was little. He would always let people know he would be a star someday. As Philip kept playing his guitar, a man walked towards where he sat, he was a famous musician, but nobody could recognize him because he disguised himself to look different.
Goodbye Is All You Left Me
As the Times Square Ball dropped on the grainy, antenna-only picture, Danielle Doolittle couldn’t help but hold her breath.
"Aaaaaand that wraps up another solid hour of power ballads from the boys with big hair here at WKWK! Wokka Wokka! Now, loyal listeners, it's time to mellow right on down to melancholy; you all know what's coming! After some messages from our sponsors, we'll be back with the bluuuues! Some of the good OLD stuff! Right from old Robert Johnson! Right after he sold his soul to the Devil himself, if you believe those old tales!"
Born to be Country
As Craig walked the worn limestone river path, the stars gave just enough light, so he wouldn’t trip on the occasional rock or small boulder that popped up along the trail that perched on the river’s edge. His floppy eared basset hound Elvis, wet nose up, happily inhaled the fresh summer scents. This nightly routine was Craigs respite from long days of working as a life insurance agent, a job Craig had only intended to be temporary. Talking to people about their impending demise had turned into 15 miserable years where every day tasted like a Monday and every evening was saturated with the promise of another dreadful workday the next morning. As the sound of the rushing river current and the cool night breeze washed over him, he could feel the ever-present tension in his body drift away into the night. His minds usual flip flopping over the actuarial table’s death rate for the morbidly obese had stopped and he began to dream about his passion of moving to Nashville and becoming a country music artist. A dream he had put off for more than a decade because of his own life which had become its own tragic country song of sorts. Lost love, broken hearts and wasted moments. In fact, that was going to be the name of his first album which he knew would give him the adulation of the future fans which were just patiently waiting for his debut. Unfortunately, his divorce from 5 years ago had put him into a semi-permanent state of debt that kept him from relocating until he could pay off the remaining agreed to settlement. Just waiting for a miracle, Craig thought. Which could be the name of one of his many future hit singles. Along with Damn you Colleen, the name of his ex-wife. Craig pulled out his small black Moleskine notebook and pen from his back jeans pocket and made a few quick notes. Just waiting for a miracle & Damn you Colleen. *Future hits*.
I hated the Cow Palace—a big concrete box built for livestock shows and basketball games, not music, so of course the acoustics were horrible. Sonic mud.
The Benefit of Mr Kite
“To Norwegian Wood!” Exclaimed Sadie as she toasted her winning horse and clinked glasses with her bandmates and their inner circle.
Long Live The Music
The crowd lined around the block. Shaking and gleaming with joy. The smiling faces of hundreds of dreamers waited for the doors to open. This would be a moment they'd never forget. One day, they'd tell their children about the time they waited in line all morning to see them play live. They'll talk about driving hours to hear that one song they played over and over.
Pay It Forward, Book 4: The Conductor
My body was failing me. I was twenty-one years old. I was in the country's best conservatory. I was a star in my music program. My body not obeying my mind felt like betrayal.
Merle was exhausted. She had been endlessly pondering her successes and failures for two considerably lengthy days and nights, in preparation for a long awaited interview. Having the ambition and will of Nestor, her grandfather, she’d have thought it unfortunate would she botch the opportunity. The young entrepreneur had everything she needed to prevail, yet bound by her limited scope of the world, she was not able to recognize this as clearly as she would have liked to. All she could consciously hope to do was wait for the universe to reveal a series of aptly compatible variables in order for her dreams to take the turn they needed to. Little did she know, a cosmic curveball was about to head her way.
Put Out Some Good
Hank stared into the room as his last chord quickly faded into the raised micro conversations of a social and disinterested club crowd. He had one last chance. One last song to win them over and earn his place on the long trail of singer-songwriters who made their break at the famous “Listening Scene.”