"Doc" Emmett L. Brown (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
4thdimensional) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-04-24 01:08 am
4thdimensional) wrote in interstellar55552016-04-24 01:08 am
Entry tags:
come sail away
Who: Doc Brown Will Brandt and you! Especially if you play music.
What: Failures of scientific studies about music and the strange phenomena surrounding it.
When: Late April, various afternoons
Where: Around Vista City
Warnings: Weird old man singing. Be warned.
aural experiment #1: morning
[Doc's finally earned enough money to cobble together a few small devices. The one he sets on the outdoor café table at breakfast looks oddly like a classic record player. It plays a soft classical tune, all while the man sitting behind it appears to be absorbed in his newspaper.
The inside of said newspaper is actually covered in scribbled notes. Nothing interesting is happening yet, but he remains optimistic.
...at least, until the record makes a horrible screeching noise for some reason. Doc slams down the newspaper to hurriedly turn it off.]
I'm not sure the classics agree with me anymore. My apologies.
aural experiment #2: afternoon
[Undeterred by his earlier failure with the record-er, Doc wanders the streets in the afternoon with some strange-looking headphones attached to his ears. They cover the back half of the ear and curve outward, and he hides it, but there's a thin microphone-like device in his hands too.
Should anyone look too closely at him, he immediately picks up the 'mic' and begins to sing in a weathered and untrained voice, waving an arm like he's conducting an invisible orchestra:]
I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea...
[Those in the vicinity may want to leave it.]
aural experiment #3: night
[Doc saves his best attempt for last: a last-ditch device more compact than the previous ones. There's a lot of musical activity at night---sound pouring out of each club, each concert hall, the headquarters...he strolls around each of these places, humming quietly to himself.
He occasionally scribbles in a notebook, but his findings will have to be analyzed later. That odd thing in the air that he can't name...it bothers him deeply, and the mystery continues to taunt him. Solve this and they can free the others. Or can they?
As he strolls back to his too-small apartment, he finds himself singing once more, though this time in a more subdued manner.]
Come sail away with me, come sail away...
What: Failures of scientific studies about music and the strange phenomena surrounding it.
When: Late April, various afternoons
Where: Around Vista City
Warnings: Weird old man singing. Be warned.
aural experiment #1: morning
[Doc's finally earned enough money to cobble together a few small devices. The one he sets on the outdoor café table at breakfast looks oddly like a classic record player. It plays a soft classical tune, all while the man sitting behind it appears to be absorbed in his newspaper.
The inside of said newspaper is actually covered in scribbled notes. Nothing interesting is happening yet, but he remains optimistic.
...at least, until the record makes a horrible screeching noise for some reason. Doc slams down the newspaper to hurriedly turn it off.]
I'm not sure the classics agree with me anymore. My apologies.
aural experiment #2: afternoon
[Undeterred by his earlier failure with the record-er, Doc wanders the streets in the afternoon with some strange-looking headphones attached to his ears. They cover the back half of the ear and curve outward, and he hides it, but there's a thin microphone-like device in his hands too.
Should anyone look too closely at him, he immediately picks up the 'mic' and begins to sing in a weathered and untrained voice, waving an arm like he's conducting an invisible orchestra:]
I'm sailing away, set an open course for the virgin sea...
[Those in the vicinity may want to leave it.]
aural experiment #3: night
[Doc saves his best attempt for last: a last-ditch device more compact than the previous ones. There's a lot of musical activity at night---sound pouring out of each club, each concert hall, the headquarters...he strolls around each of these places, humming quietly to himself.
He occasionally scribbles in a notebook, but his findings will have to be analyzed later. That odd thing in the air that he can't name...it bothers him deeply, and the mystery continues to taunt him. Solve this and they can free the others. Or can they?
As he strolls back to his too-small apartment, he finds himself singing once more, though this time in a more subdued manner.]
Come sail away with me, come sail away...
no subject
[He lifts a brow. Yes, he knows you're a special one.]
no subject
no subject
[These poor singers/victims live stressful enough lives as it is, he thinks with a frown.]
no subject
[ If Roy knew what Doc was thinking he'd tell him that for some of the musicians what they need isn't a break from performing but rather the freedom to choose to perform without the watchful eyes of their labels burning into their backs. He had just recently realized that for himself. ]
no subject
[He grinned.]
Any particular mood striking you at the moment?