Welcome to music land stories coming to you live from the origin point for all music and adventure story in the known universe and some of the unknown ones. And we're here at the music land concert hall.

I'm the conductor, the maestro of this epic intergalactic journey. But it's a little empty here right now. Hear the echo. Hear the echo. Hear the echo. That's why I brought you here. Where did I put that baton? Had it here. A minute ago, I was in the borrelian forest, coaxing a sonata out of the pine trees, and then. Well. You're late. You should have been here 253 years ago. Yep, got you down for 1778. Wait, that's not you. That's Letwick van Beethoven. Sorry about that. Heck of a guy. Letwick van made amazing bratwurst. A lot of people don't know that, but you've got a different vibe. Not a bit of. Dun dun, dun dun. That's why I brought you here, ladies and gentlemen, all the way from 1967, Miss Ella Fitzgerald. Wait, no, that's not you, Miss Ellis. Sort of. You're more. Well, we don't know that yet, but you're right on time. Only time moves differently here. Sometimes it claps along in four four, and then the next thing you know, it switched to a weird five four. Tough to dance to unless you have two and a half legs. But what I'm saying is, time is important.

Everything starts with finding a beat. Even if it's the beat of your heart. Lucky you have only one. Two hearts is tougher. Like on this planet I visited once. Syncopia in the outer arithmetic zone. You want to check it out? It's not far. Nowhere is too far from the music land concert hall. We can go the way you came in, through the portal. We just have to find the right sound. Which reminds me. How did you get in here? A question for another day. Let's see. Syncopia in the outer arrhythmic zone. Piccolo's no good. Did you redo? Not quite. Aha. Steel drum. A quick bit to warm up the portal, and there we are. Go ahead. Step on through. This is syncopia, 7th planet in the Kuti system, located in the outer arithmetic zone of the star Zegus nine. Most planets orbit stars in a shape called an ellipses, like an oval. Syncopia's orbit is more like. You have a draw on the wall in crayon. I'm not saying you should draw on the wall in crayon. That's a quick way to get in trouble. But if you did, you'd probably draw big, zigzagging lines.

Imagine a planet zigzagging like that through space. That's syncopia. What you need to know about this planet is how its citizens make their way through the day. Everyone in syncopia has two hearts beating in their chest, and those beats are way out of sync with each other. Like this. Ugh. Makes me shudder just listening. Think of all the things in your life that fall into a rhythm. Your footsteps when you walk, the tick tick tick of a clock. Your whole day has a rhythm to it. Waking up, eating breakfast, going to school. Rhythm is a pattern that repeats. None of that here. Syncopians are known for tripping over their own feet, and no two clocks on syncopia agree. But there was one girl whose heart's beat exactly in sync. Meet Mo. Let's take a listen to her hearts. Ah, what a relief. Mo had a rhythm that started in her chest. It woke her up every morning at the same time. Some days she was up before anyone else in her house. Mo moved quietly through the house, listening to the pattern of her own footsteps against the out of sync seesawing of everyone snoring.

Other days, Mo woke up and half the house was halfway through their day, eating breakfast or lunch, heading to work or school or bed. Mo sat at the breakfast table, poured a bowl of cereal, and rattated on the bowl with a knife and spoon until her parents shouted, take that racket outside. Mo took a straight line to school, through the busy sidewalks where people walked in every direction all at once. The steady rhythm of her hearts pulled her forward, and she got to school right on time. Not that anyone checked. Kids were coming and going at all hours, day and night. When you go to school, you go to a specific room at a specific time. Everyone does just about the same thing. But not at syncopia elementary. Some kids show up at midnight and go to math. Others get there at 07:00 a.m. Start on science. Mo liked to start with music class, but a music class on syncopia doesn't sound like a music class in your school. Let's listen for a second, but don't get too close, because, well, if I had my baton, I'd reel these kids in before they blow out my eardrums.

Mo sat in the back. She picked up any two instruments she could find. A snorkel plat, which is a sort of flute mixed with a plate of spaghetti and an ambarexian flingaphone, which is like a trumpet but also like a ferret Mo banged these two instruments together in a rhythm that went right along with her heart. Mo found her groove until finally her music teacher would shout, take that rocket outside. Which she did, because Mo was a good kid who listened to her parents and her teachers, even if her parents and her teachers didn't always listen to her. Even out in the streets, the slap of Moe's footsteps on the pavement and the rhythm of her hearts competed with the wild beats around her. She ran with everyone who zigged and zagged their way down the street, jerk this way and that by the beats inside them. When she didn't feel at home and she didn't fit in at school, Mo hoofed it to a field outside of the city, a wide open field with bright purple grass and a huge expanse of brilliant green sky above. If someone asked Mo why she spent so much time in an empty field, Mo said, because it was quiet.

But that wasn't it. Because the field wasn't quiet. Listen. Pony toads croaked and winnied as they galloped through the sun swamp nearby. Globe crickets clacked their three hind legs together in a waltz beat when they sniffed the books in Moe's bag. Because there's nothing a globe cricket likes more than a look over someone's shoulder like a book light. While they read, spider sparrows knit their melodies into elaborate webs of song to catch their dinner. There were all kinds of sounds in the field at the edge of the city, and they all had a rhythm. Mo picked up two branches from a gnarly bone tree. They were twisted and bent like an old lady's fingers, but they were good enough. Moe drummed along, joining the creatures of the field in their song. It was the one time Mo didn't feel alone. I talked earlier about time, right? You know, I'm glad that you're here, right? At this time, in this place, I could be with Lutwick van Beethoven in Vienna in 1802, dun dun dun dun. Or with Ella at the coat diazur in 1969, skipping about. Instead. We're here today with Mo in a field outside the city, once in Copia, in the outer arithmetic zone.

I've got this feeling like something is about to happen, don't you? A bass line crept in along with the song underneath the croak of the pony toad, backing up the click of the glow cricket. The bass pulsed louder and louder, and Mo noticed it was getting darker. There was no telling how long the day was going to be on syncopia, but it seemed early for nighttime. Mo looked up, coming down towards her from the upper atmosphere, she saw a huge pyramid covered in flashing lights in orange, red, and green. On the front was a giant golden hawk whose eyes pulsed pink along with the plunk of the bass. It was the orchestra obscura, the greatest cosmic jazz ensemble in the entire galactic quadrant. They roamed the spaceways in their huge space arc, bringing thick grooves wherever they went. They hadn't visited syncopia in a very long time. Anyone else in that field on that day would have run home terrified of that pulsating bass. But this wasn't anyone. It was Mo. The orchestra made the most amazing sound she'd ever heard before. Her heartbeats fit into it like a key fits into a lock. Mo wanted to get closer.

The ponytails and glow crickets and spider sparrows went silent. Mo and everything else in the field listened to the music as the huge glowing pyramid touched down. There was a hiss, and the gate of the great spaceship opened. Marched the orchestra of Gira in brilliant costumes, covered in jewels and bits of metal that shone in the light of the bright green sky. They carried instruments mohit never seen, saxophones and trumpets and keyboards. At the end of the line a man carried a snare drum the size of a stew pot. On top were two drumsticks made of dark, shining wood. Mo had never seen a drumstick or a proper drum before, but she knew what they were. They called to her, waiting for her to bang out a perfect riff and rhythm. The members of the orchestra looked around, trying to figure out what planet they landed on. Their leader, Tutun Kamen, put one ear in the air and listened to the whole planet. The clanging sounds of the city, the gentle rhythm of the field. He scrunched up his nose like he smelled something bad and shook his head as he turned to the orchestra.

Friends, he said, this space ain't the place. Then he saw Mo standing where the field in the city met. He saw the gnawly bone sticks clutched in her hands, between her thumb and fingers, in a proper drummer's grip. Hey, kid called Tootsa uncommon. You play? The first thing we've got to say for our friend Mo is that she shouldn't talk to strangers, which is good advice in real life, not so great in stories. Mo felt like a stranger to everyone on her planet. The music she heard from the orchestra felt like home. Right then, Mo had to make a choice. Every story starts with a choice. Every song, too, whether it wants to go dun dun dun dun or skip it about. You can choose not to make a choice. But then there's no story, no song. If you want to know what choice mo made, you'll have to come back next time. For now, we have to leave her right there in a field on syncopia in the outer rhythmic zone of the Starzegas nine, listening to the sounds of the orchestra obscura, waiting for her story to begin. Musical and stories is a collaboration between Starglow Media and double Elvis.

Executive producers from Double Elvis are Jake Brennan and Brady Sattler. Executive producers from Starglow Media are Jed Baker and Agrenish A. Palmer. This episode of Music Land Stories was written by Bob Prohl. Alessandro Santoro is our showrunner. Narration by me, Nikki Lynette. Original score by Jonathan Warman. Story editing by Zeff Lundy. An episode mix by Matt Bowden. Grown ups. You can find more ad free fun for the whole family by subscribing to Starglow plus on Apple or wherever you listen to podcasts. See you soon, cosmic cats. Until next time, conductor out.