Being the new kid at the Warp Records School of Mindfuckery wasn't easy for Chris Clark. He ate lunch by himself every day, and the other kids played mean jokes on him. The first day of school, Richard D. James got every other kid at school to wear a mask bearing his likeness, and to utter only the phrase, "I will eat your soul!" Tom Jenkinson hung a picture of a big red car in his locker, and pointed at it menacingly every time Chris walked by. No matter how hard he tried, Chris just couldn't get the other kids at school to like him.

Chris spent the whole school year sad and alone. And then came time for the final project. Word had spread that Tom's project consisted largely of portions stolen from a project he had done several years earlier, and Richard had simply holed himself up in his room, insisting that his enormous masterpiece would be finished "bloody eventually." With the bullies who had made his life miserable in remission, Chris saw the chance he needed to get his peers to respect him. He locked himself up in his room with a Nintendo, some synthesizers, a sampler, and a sequencer. He was going to show them once and for all just what he was capable of.

Several weeks later came the big day: it was time for Chris to present his final project to his classmates. As he walked towards the front of the class, he could hear the cruel giggles of his peers. But he remained unfazed. He calmly walked up to the stylish CD player that stood affixed to a table in the center of the room, placed his freshly burned disc into the tray, and pressed play.

Immediately, the room fell silent. The giggles ceased, and the whole room sat in wide-eyed wonder at the understated beauty of "Pleen 1930s." Subtle piano figures echoed in the digital distance. The very same people who had once taunted Chris now found themselves transfixed by the simple, trance-like beauty of his music.

But just as they were getting comfortable, the furiously manipulated beats and backwards-motorcycle noises of "The Dogs" shattered the communal sense of peace that had developed in the room. The sounds were rich and warm, and alternatingly beautiful and abrasive. "Proper Lofi" took this formula even further, placing percussive synthesizer noise and complex melodies into an unpredictable but strangely intuitive sonic context.

As Chris Clark's CD continued to play, the look of absolute awe on the faces of his classmates seemed only to intensify. But it was not until his finest work, "Lord of the Dance," came on that the true depth of his brilliance became apparent to his classmates. With its "Mega Man" soundtrack-meets-sea shanty melody, filtered synthesizer noise, and frequently interrupted drum machine beat, "Lord of the Dance" was without doubt one of the most fun, catchy songs ever to grace the halls of the school.

As the last seconds of "Nostalgic Oblong" faded, the whole room erupted into a massive cheer. Tears were shed, friendships were made, and Chris Clark went home the most popular kid in school. Tom Jenkinson paid Chris five dollars to sit in front of him during the next test. Chris went to the semi-formal with Mira Calix. With his fluid manipulation of sonic extremes, he'd proven himself more than worthy of the respect of his peers. And if his future endeavors prove to be as successful as Clarence Park, there's a good chance Clark could become the president of his class in the not-so-distant future.

-Matt LeMay