Musical instruments serve as powerful tools for individuals to express themselves.
They offer a unique glimpse into one’s inner world.
Through the mastery of an instrument, musicians can convey their emotions, thoughts, and experiences in a profound way that words alone fail to capture.
Each instrument possesses its own distinct voice and character. Whether it’s the soul-stirring melodies of a violin, the rhythmic beats of a drum, or the soothing chords of a piano, instruments become extensions of the artist’s soul – allowing them to channel their deepest feelings and innermost thoughts.
In essence, musical instruments are not just mere objects, but rather conduits for human conveyance.
They provide a window into the depths of one’s soul, leaving an indelible mark on those who are willing to listen.
Your guitar playing was once a mesmerising force to all who heard your song.
Your fingers would dance across the threads of your musical instrument like a maestro, weaving stories with every note you played.
As you pressed down, one string at a time, you did so with a determination born of love and a susceptibility carved from ethereal self-expression.
With it came a willingness to be faithful and true to your song. It helped your audience to connect on a deeper level as they revelled in your tune, beholden by the sincerity of your musical interpretations.
But as the old saying goes, Muerte, nothing lasts forever.
And by opening yourself up to the possibility of making mistakes and exposing your vulnerabilities through your music, a cruel fate befell upon you when your ability to communicate through the strums of your guitar tempered to a haunting silence.
The strings that once responded to your touch like old friends became strangers, and the melodies that resonated with the souls of those who listened were replaced by a collection of awkward stumbles and discordant chords.
Your guitar, once an extension of your being, is now a heavy burden.
Your tune, which could make angels weep and demons repent, plays like a painful echo of once that was.
And your fabled name, passed down through generations of Mariachi like a precious heirloom, hangs by a thread thanks to its maltreatment by you – the latest successor of the name El Mariachi Muerte.
At Thunder three-two-six, Singing Death, I will muten your song once and for all by introducing you to a little instrument of my own.
A custom-crafted device with deadly precision.
Cradling it in my hands, I shall unleash a familiar composition.
With each shot I fire, sharp staccatos will shatter whatever fragile notes still linger in your rhythmic reality.
I shall leave my mark on you, EMM, orchestrating a symphony of destruction with notes written in your blood.
You will find out, first hand, that even the most beautiful of melodies can be silenced by the harsh reality of my instrument.
Of my gun.
For it is I, not you, who wields the true power to orchestrate life and death around here.
And come 9/11, Mariachi, Arcadia and all who reside there will forever remember that familiarly fateful date, as the day…
The music…
Died.