Phillip A.

Healy
Jeff Bain-Conkin
Multimedia Writing and Rhetoric
January 30, 2015
Writing and Rhetoric - Audio Narrative Script
(Untitled)
I never thought that I would begin learning a new language halfway through my Junior
year of high school. I was already worried enough about getting grades good enough to get me
into college. At this point, if I were to begin any new activity it would only be for the purpose of
beefing up my college applications. Little did I know that this new language was all about
beginnings.
I began with a cracked version of Fruity Loops version 10. Having never pirated any
software in my life, starting with such a large file with a triple-digit price tag was certainly a bold
move. Nervous high school student that I was, I expected to at any moment see through my
bedroom window a black van filled with FBI agents across the street, ready to bust me for my
illegal download. Staying away from windows, I dove right into the music-making program.
After opening Fruity Loops on my laptop, I began by clicking. I experimented with the
various knobs, levers, flashing lights, and keystrokes that made things happen in the program. I
soon realized that the drum kit that came with the program simply would not do. After a quick
glance through my front window (no black vansphew), I dove again into the internet to search
for new, more appealing drums. I had read countless articles online about all different sorts of
drum kits available for download, boasting funny names like Roland TR 909 and Lex Luger
Trap Kit. Not knowing what any of these words meant, I continued on and clicked wherever I
could find download arrows on sketchy Russian sites containing these kits. Several kits and one
nasty computer virus later, my Fruity Loops was stocked with usable drums.

Soon enough I had created my first beat. That was the first word I learned in this
newfound language. Beat. Four letters, one syllable, but endless possibilities. I soon realized
that in order to make a beat, I needed a few things. Just as a well-formed sentence needs a
subject, a verb, and usually a direct object or indirect object to spice things up, any beat that I
made always needed a kick and a snare. To the uninitiated, a kick is the low sound. The word
kick comes from the physical movement of the lever that one has to kick in order to get the
kick drum to work on an old-school drum set. Yes, I happened to pick up some etymology while
learning this new language. The snare is the other drum that is found in nearly every song in
popular music made after 1950. Put simply, its the other drum. It gives the heavy kick
balance. Both aurally and literally higher on a drum set, it completes the musical sentence. Any
song with a kick and a snare is sure to have a good basis.
I began to write paragraphs with these musical sentences. Every day when I came home
from school, I would open Fruity Loops just as my classmates would open Microsoft Word,
ready to make a few attempts at a paragraph before dinner time came around. But with no
deadlines or requirements, I had no reason to procrastinate or stress out over making these
sentences into paragraphs and these paragraphs into stories or essays or papers. In my new
language I could write as often and as much as I wanted. That is, until my Dad noticed.
Stop making these God-damned beats, Phil! it always began. Its your Junior year.
Its crunch time. If I see you doing your beats again, I swear Im gonna delete that that (his
voice would trail off since he seemed to never recall the words Fruity Loops while angry)
program off your laptop!
It seemed he didnt want me learning this new language. For a span of several weeks, my
learning stopped. Until one day, I started night school. Every night, I would go to bed having

finished my homework with my laptop in clear view of my Dads gaze, making sure to show that
there would be no further developments in my language-learning process. But as soon as I heard
the click of the lights shutting off in my parents room down the hall, I would fire up my laptop
with a hum and a whirr. By the time I began this night school, my sentences had grown more
interesting, lengthy, and overall more enjoyable. Just as any writer begins his career by imitating
the work of his heroes and his idols, I copied whichever producers and DJs I was listening to at
the time. DJ Sliink had a triplet kick pattern and one hundred thirty beats per minute in his
songs? You could bet youd find one in my latest song. Young Chop had a double
sledgehammer snare? I had a double sledgehammer snare. I even had the nerve to directly lift
notes from a few Drake songs and place them in my beats. In the world of writing, this would
have been a light case of plagiarism, and I would have been shamed out of the writing world.
But in the world of beatmakers and producers, this was not only just okay; it was encouraged!
They call that sampling, a technique that became a staple in my night school writing sessions.
Soon enough I had established a body of work with which I was happy enough to put on
the internet. The kicks and snares that I had learned about a few months earlier had been
modified and edited and compressed and EQd and distorted to fit my own style. The sentences
had found their way into long, flowing paragraphs that reflected my mood and had a style that I
could call my own. While my classmates were busy joining as many clubs and teams as possible
to squeeze onto college apps, I was beginning to learn my new language. Now that I am fluent, I
can say without regret that I am glad I began this new adventure.
And to think it all began with a beat.