ORACLE - PART 2

The summer party at the house of N3mesis, Oracle’s chief rival, was a sure fire contender for celebrity event of the year. N3mesis was currently leading in the digital downloads and streaming charts and threatening to steal the throne from Oracle in the rap/hip-hop world. There had been industry rumours he’d stolen the main hook from Oracle for his most famous hit record “Paraffin” but disguised it sufficiently to be legally protected. Some online fans of N3mesis believed he was subversively trolling Oracle with the besmirched hook, knowing he could do nothing about it, like a form of cryptic musical gaslighting. But how much of all this gesturing was merely pantomime; a pretend “beef” that got the warring tribes of fans all hyped up for either of their next single or album and simultaneously increased sales for both artists.

Those close to Oracle, knew he had little interest in fake histrionics with lesser talents than his, but he was wiley enough to know how to “build a fire and let it burn.”

It was a routine trope for rap and hip-hop artists to replicate the tribal factions of the streets and transfer that same energy into their tracks and overall music promotion. It was like sport and theatre combined. Oracle wanted to be free of these cliches, but like a moth, he couldn’t help but add his own kerosene to the flames. He felt justifiably that having reached a certain transcendence as a recording artist, he didn’t need to be dragged down by the hood rats if he could avoid it. But if he did have to stand up to play demons, he would.

And he would destroy them.

It wasn’t until Ghost girl had reached the driveway of the grand Mediterranean style mansion situated along the ‘American Riviera’ that she realised where she was. She immediately reprimanded Julia for bringing her along with her when she knew only too well that she would have to account to Oracle for being here.

“Don’t tell me you just suddenly stopped being a party girl.”

Julia peered over her yellow tinted aviators at Ghost girl in mock earnest.

“Alright, but if TMZ papp me, you can explain how it’s all your fault.”

Julia shrugged then nodded her head as if expecting this type of arrangement with her best friend.

And thus the rubicon was crossed as they passed the many rows of luxury cars parked in the grand entrance of the palatial home of N3mesis.

Night time always heightened Oracle’s mind and ears. He would become wolf-like sitting in his studio, preying on the appropriate sounds and samples for the tracks at hand.

An obsessive perfectionist, Oracle often broke his collaborators in the studio, like world heavyweight champions broke sparring partners in the gym. Some would leave him halfway through a project exhausted both physically and mentally; others stuck it out as a point of pride, but often at the expense of their friendship with Oracle and what was left of their remaining sanity.

The question everyone on the outside of the process always asked, was why would so many put themselves through so much for this musical maniac?

In a word?

Immortality.

Once your name was written on the credits of a track produced and performed by Oracle, your name was written in the stars, forever emblazoned across the musical firmament. For many of the younger artists who suspected their light would not shine as bright without the God-like genius of Oracle supporting them it was a mixed blessing. For while they worked with their hero, they could gaze briefly from the summits of excellence they dreamed about as kids. But deep down in their hearts they knew without him by their side they would be never quite as great again, made mortal once more.

“Precipice” was going to be a manifesto and compendium of everything Oracle had yet learnt and absorbed from life and music. He wanted to create an album like no other, one that would confound his peers and critics even more than he already had. He now believed he was as much a part of the grand lineage of classical music as any critically acclaimed modern composers such as John Cage or Phillip Glass. The only thing that separated him from them, was that he was insanely commercial. Commercial and experimental, the world was marching to the beat of his drum machine and he could invent new sounds and trends that no-one had ever thought of before. He was creating the future in music form, which probably explained why he had been referenced as a “futurist pied piper” by Time magazine in their cover feature on him a few years earlier.

With his head in the future, but his body consigned to the present, Oracle sometimes had to remember to look after himself. Although he had a team of nutritionists and private chefs working for him, he often ignored most of what was prepared for him. Like a restless emperor, he couldn’t seem to find anything to truly sate him.

Except love.

The night of the party, Oracle was working on his personal musical ode to Ghost girl. She haunted his mind far more when she was away from him, and perhaps by design, the current distance between them heightened the emotional intensity of the track Oracle was laying down, although to Ghost girl it seemed like her man had cooled on her and their relationship.

It was yet another one of Oracle’s paradoxes. The closer he got to someone, the further he distanced himself from them physically. Issues around trust and abandonment as a child had left a scar, invisible except to those who loved him the deepest.

They had agreed not to message while he was working, but the temptation was great. He had to be like a spartan when he was pursuing the ultimate level of perfection in his art. Some saw it as sadistic. But if he was to maintain the standard of previous albums, he had no choice but to be militant about the process.

Sampling various recordings of Ghost girl’s voice from private recordings he’d made into the layers of the current track, Oracle was fusing his personal life with his art in a way that made others uncomfortable. Though they would never say anything for fear of being instantly disposed of, some of the collaborators around him found it kind of eerie that he was using her voice in this way.

But the symbiosis was essential to the artist if he was to make the greatest work for the world to enjoy. Oracle was creating the most personal track of his career and he had dispersed every last drop of emotion into it. Looking around at the sound engineers crashed out on the floor like fallen soldiers, Oracle decided to take a rare break for himself.

Sliding the back doors of his Hawaiian studio open, he walked down to the shoreline where the moon lit the silvery waves like a giant mirrorball.

He slipped his shoes off and let the warm sea water rush through his bare feet before the ocean drew back as if it was inhaling the sand through a straw.

As he gazed on the horizon and saw the lights of a luxury yacht like twinkling stars before him, he wondered where his love was tonight.

And as if on cue, a riot of fireworks shot out from the afterdeck of the yacht into the night sky high above him, creating an effect similar to that of a kaleidoscope which he loved as a child.

In his mind, he could hear the sound of piano chords, like dolphins jumping out of white foaming waves and he ran back to the studio inspired.

His bespoke sneakers were now afloat on the ocean, sailing toward an unknown destination.

There were fireworks lighting up the sky in Biscayne Bay, Miami where the grand party was taking place.

Surrounded by a small entourage, the enigmatic N3mesis, wearing a Kubrickian looking mask encrusted with flawless diamonds was previewing the new tracks of his new album to the privileged guests below his balcony. The crowd were becoming increasingly high and inebriated as the thudding bass notes appear to synchronise their movement in unison like a single organism.

N3mesis enjoyed controlling the crowd with his music. It made him feel God-like, especially as some of the most important political power brokers (including one ex-president) were also in attendance at his event.

However, one person in the crowd was not vibing to his beat and it really shook up his ego. And his OCD.

He immediately stopped the music in its track as the drunken crowd below protested loudly.

N3mesis waited a moment or two, leaving his captive audience in great anticipation, before replacing the silence with his surprise ‘banger’ of the summer.

He watched the non dancing anomaly with tightly braided rivets of dark brown hair, and waited til she could stand it no longer. Like the scorcerer Klingsor he used an evil magic to seduce and torment, which in this instance was his music.

As her ears pricked up at the sound of the heavily syncopated beat, she started to nod her head in approval of this instant hit record.

Swept along by the music and the potent botanical cocktails, Ghost girl soon found herself immersed in the party atmosphere and began to dance to the new music beguiling her ears.

She’d always been a sucker for catchy riffs and regularly complained that she had a low resistance to earworms, often unable to shift a melody from her head for days on end.

The current track had a groove that was about as irresistible as it got. As much as Oracle could make a beat that would sway her, this had something more insistent about it, almost aggressive.

Having caught his attention from high above, N3mesis now circulated on the dance floor below, moving slowly through the heaving crowd like a predator toward Ghost girl who was becoming increasingly excited by the music.

Standing perfectly still just behind her it was now his turn to remain stubbornly motionless. There was something passively controlling about his demeanour, although Ghost girl was relatively oblivious.

Working herself into a near frenzy as the beat increased to a near hyper speed intensity, the crowd now stood and watched behind N3mesis as Ghost girl became the centre of attention.

Mixing their cocktails, Julia was made suddenly aware of her best friend stealing the show from everyone, dancing like a female Mithun Chakraborty.

When the beat suddenly stopped on a dime, Ghost girl stopped dead still, as if she instinctively knew it would end just there. She had an knack for these things, especially after all the time she’d spent with Oracle.

The crowd broke out into applause and so too did N3mesis, whose diamond mask reflected the strobing lights above across her flushed face.

“That should be the video.”

Ghost girl laughed and riposted drunkenly.

“You should be the video.”

N3mesis always took a moment to consider what he said, unlike Oracle who often spoke as if he had Tourettes, unable to suppress the endless thoughts in his head.

“You seem quite drunk. How about we take some sea air?”

“The sea air is all around us. How can we take anymore of it?”

“Let me show you.”

Cutting through the waves like a scythe, N3mesis drove a few of them out to sea in his cruiser.

From the afterdeck, Ghost girl could see the lights of his mansion receding into the distance, the party goers unaware that their host had left them for dead.

Drunk and somewhat disorientated, she still was conscious enough to think of Oracle and wonder what he was doing right now.

She looked at her phone and considered calling him, but she knew he was locked in.

The surrounding ocean seemed lonely as N3mesis turned the engine off and put some tunes on for his guests.

“I’ve always said the best parties are the ones you don’t turn up to.”

Julia looked perplexed by this sentiment and looked at Ghost girl for solidarity in her bemusement.

But Ghost girl was nowhere to be seen.