I can feel my nerves being pushed to their limits as I stand backstage. My hands are shaking slightly. I take a deep breath, doing my best to remain calm. The pounding on my dressing room door hasn’t stopped since I got here. The hordes of clawed crab fan girls are yelling and trying to get in. A skinny crab in an official looking hat informs me that the door would hold, and that there is nothing to worry about. I thank him, out of habit, and he scuttles off musing over his clipboard. I secretly wished they’d let some of the girls in.

My thoughts drift away from the fan girls and to the people who didn’t want me here. They’re the radical Purist Shells that believe music is an evil force. They think that because their planet hasn’t had music for a 1000 years, it should never have music. I had to fly in at night, in an unmarked craft, and wearing a disguise. All of this so they wouldn’t try to “take me out”, as one body guard put it. A flyer caught my eye and I picked it up off the ground. It read in bold letters, “Music Will End The World As We Know It.” I let let it fall from my hand, back onto the ground.

“How can a planet be so against music,” I think to myself as I try to mentally prepare for the show I’m about to play. I think about the Crab King Ugwa, who had traveled with his royal court to plead with me to bring music to his planet. I remember laughing and making a stupid comment about how they could have emailed me. He explained about the Purists, but the danger hadn’t sunk in until now. He continued on, stating how their people lacked creativity and passion. He wanted these powers for his people and he knew that music was the way to give it to them.

The Crab people had constructed this massive colosseum specifically for this show. I’m sure there will be more events after, but I am the first. If I survive. If the angry Purists don’t try to “take me out”. I walked over to my case of records, all freshly pressed for this show. I usually spin CDs, but an entire planet, that calls for something special. I look at the stack, full of bright colored sleeves, each marked in bold letters with a track title. Aerogance, Supernova, Mischief, Time Zone, Neon Tetra, Foo, Stratosphere…

A new track catches my attention. It’s one that I just wrote a week ago. The sleeve is a deep red and the name across the top reads “000000001″. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. A name to hold the place, until I could decide on a real name, hopefully, with more meaning.

Then the thought crossed my mind, “A brand new song for a brand new world.” It’s a song that has never been heard by anyone but me. I pulled the sleek black vinyl out and looked at the tiny grooves. I knew I had to do this. And then it was time. I turned and walked towards the stage, with the one record in my hand.

The lights blinded me and I put my hand up to block them from my eyes. The crowd cheered loudly. Maybe they thought I was waving. There were Crabs stretching as far as I could see. I stepped up to the turntables. I removed the record from its sleeve, tossing the red paper out into the crowd.

“This is for you,” I said. A silence fell over the world. Every person, an entire planet, waiting on me. I set the record down on the deck and drop the needle. The gritty bassline fills the stadium. The first sounds of techno that these people would ever hear. Sixteen seconds of bass go by and then the first kick drum hits. I could see in their eyes, they wanted to move. They were unsure why, but they couldn’t fight it. It only took a moment and every claw was in the air as they jumped in unison to the beat.

I knew from this moment, their lives would never be the same. It was actually the end of the world as they knew it. This wasn’t the doom that the flyer had mentioned. This was a new beginning. A renaissance for this planet.

This wasn’t an apocalypse. This was Clawmaggedon.