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L'enfant Sauvage

Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2025 10:52 pm
by Lamps
[Mitch Vernet enters the pregame]

The recording studio. The testing ground for weapons of musical destruction.

The grand arena where creatives prove their worth to an audience of zero.

Their voices, their instruments -- they were the sword and shield they wielded to combat a foe most sinister: the silence in the room.

Mitch plugs his black Ibanez guitar into a hefty-looking amp and switches it on. In front of the amp is a microphone, positioned so that the sound feeds directly into the grill. He stands to face another mic stand in the middle of the studio, throwing the guitar's strap over his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

In. Then out.

"Alright, let's fuckin' go."

After a couple of tuning adjustments, throat-clearing coughs and practice growls, Mitch presses the spacebar on his laptop to start the backing track. The sample drumkit establishes the tempo with four drumstick clicks before the snares and toms hit. Mitch readies his guitar, then scrapes the strings with his pick from one end to the other-- the jam session has officially commenced.

Mitch starts with a heavy riff, alternating chords every other beat. Swinging his head around once to get his long hair over his face like a veil of death, he thrusts his face towards the microphone to let out guttural, roaring lyrics from deep within his throat, pushed out like a miasma from his lungs. His pace quickens on the guitar strings as the drumkit and accompanying bass crank up the tempo, minor chords and chromatic notes pelted out with masterful precision as the shredding of string continues like a butcher cutting through meat. An expert in his craft.

Though they sound like no language spoken on Earth, his words -- the lyrics he had written for today's session -- are composed eloquently:


'TRAPPED IN THIS PRISON
I WITNESS A VISION
AN ACT LONG FORBIDDEN
IN THE WORLD OF THE LIVING

TRESPASSER
IN THE REALM OF THE DEAD
SEEKING THE BOOK THAT'LL BRING HIM TO HIS
END


TEARING OUT THE PAGES
SOAKING IN BLOOD, HE LIES IN THEM NAKED
RELINQUISHES HIS SOUL TO SEVER THE CHAINS
WHICH BIND ME


FAUSTIAN METHODS OF ACQUIRING IMMORTALITY
HIS OBSESSION IS MET WITH MY INDIFFERENCE
NOW I HARVEST HIS MATERIAL BODY
LEAVING ASH AND BONE'


As he concludes the song with a shrill clang of a final chord, he shakes his head as though re-entering reality from a violent trance. He grins joyfully as he clicks 'Stop Recording' on the open GarageBand tab and pumps his fist in glee. "YES, that was the ONE! he proclaims, strumming a happy melody on his guitar in celebration.

Mitch is interrupted by phone beeps coming from his pocket. He pulls it out and sees a message notification from 'Dad', reading:

'can you put the trash out later, im out tonight'

Mitch doesn't reply.

He puts the phone back in his pocket, sighing through his nose. Still smiling regardless, he unstraps his guitar and puts away his equipment before heading off, turning the lights off behind him. The room is silent for the rest of the day.