Felton & The Fabriquitos
Original Release Date: 11/23/2219
Felton Pingüino had a fantastic fear of nearly everything in his environment. Car horn too loud? Shadow a bit too menacing? Food too spicy? Whether it was the buzzing of a fly or the shock of a thunderstorm, Felton retreated under his bed, using his cartoon-themed blankets to block the bottom of the frame and insulate himself from the outside world. It was a crippling diagnosis that kept him under wraps and lock and key, dooming him to remote learning and surviving on no-contact deliveries of his favorite fatty foods. This was no way to live when you have dreams of becoming a musician and a beatmaker. Therapy had failed; medication (while tasty) did not seem to work. What was left to quell the storm, both internal and external? Felton took to the UWW (Universal Wide Web) and implored through electronic mail, discussion groups, telephony, streaming media, and file-sharing groups, seeking a solution. Within hours, his anonymous posts and pleas received a glowing cure-all. A few hours after that, there was a knock on his door: a delivery. Inside the brown box plastered with a frown was a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. Felton delicately placed them on his head with his flippers and tapped a button on the device's side. A gentle tone was activated, and suddenly there was silence. He threw open the window overlooking Oamaru City, inviting the chaos into his studio apartment. There was nothing. No shouting, no sirens, no screaming pets. He was ecstatic; the world suddenly quiet, his heart beating normally, his brain ceasing to be a tornado of fear and dramatic thoughts. The music came naturally, flowing like a belly ride down a snowy hill in the dead of winter. Eight tracks in mere hours; complete, mastered, and marked by his unique sound: a funky, boogie beat over charming keyboard, backed by disco hihat and phasing wah-wah chords. Textophobia, inspired by just one of his fears, was an extroverted sound that did not match his outward demeanor but rather reflected Felton's internal yearning to fit in. Hitting the discotheque scene like a heat-seeking missile, there was a rush to fill playlists and order requests. Vinyl and cassettes of Textophobia sold out on his website within days, and soon the overwhelming sense of success was knocking, nearly forcing him under his bed once more. Enter: The Fabriquitos. Not an addition to his band (for he was strictly solo) but an army of online fans who came to his assistance to manage his operations and marketing, taking the pressure off a deluge of electronic mail and shipping logistics. Left alone now, Felton embarked on an intergalactic digital tour, beaming himself into discos across the Universe to serve his unique, funky style, all while he enjoyed his own silent disco, thanks to the friendly users of the UWW. We are breathlessly awaiting a sophomore album, but suspect that fortune, and, perhaps, luxury has rendered Felton more reserved, more relaxed. Textophobia has long been held in high regard in communities that suffer a fear of their worlds, offering an alternative where potions and strange medicine had failed. The hypnotic beats on board were, dear Audionauts, temporary (until you flip the vinyl or cassette back over), but the more fans listened, the more their brains began to train themselves, the sights and sounds beyond their windows no longer threats, but new inspirations for art, music, and story. A generation of creatures was slowly healing themselves, finding purpose in the expanse of the Void, confronting what held them back, all thanks to Felton and his loyal Fabriquitos.
Side A
Same Day
The View From My Black & White Tower
Belly Flop
Dream Scenarios
Side B
I Haven't Felt This Excited
Let Down Your Hair
Just A Minute (I'm Frightened!)
Textophobia