The keyboard had been listed and re-listed on Ebay for over a year, and still no one was biting (even at the reduced price of five dollars). The current seller, desperate to be rid of it but unable to throw it away, decided to try to use its biggest drawback as a selling point.

Owned by Reed Burgess, a.k.a. electronic artist The 39 Step Program, prior to his death, this instrument was partially destroyed in a fit of drug-fuelled rage. A curse was placed on it by the artist himself that any song successfully composed on it would bring the artist untold misery. 

The first buyer, Meeko Taylor, read this description and plucked out the words most relevant to him: successfully and composed. Meeko had been a session musician and mixer for over a decade, and was tired of sending out demos only to hear nothing back.

He clicked the Buy It Now button, ignoring the strictly no returns warning, and his purchase was delivered a week later. Three days later, he went to the studio armed with his latest demo. 

The producer of the artist he was there to back up loved it and, a month later, Meeko had a platinum selling single called Madness, which was hauntingly infectious, thanks to a voice sample that seemed to have been dredged up from the bowels of Hell.

“Madness takes you further/success flows on like murder.

Meeko was, truth be told, in a fair state when he was creating the song. His wife, his children, even the four walls that surrounded him, ceased to exist, as did sleeping, bathing, and toileting. His wife took the children and went to her sister’s place, but Meeko Barely Heard them packing.

His mistress, who was by all accounts a healthy woman, was found dead in her apartment after investing rat poison. Meeko Barely Heard the message his agent left on his machine.

After the song came out, everything was fine. Meeko had a visitation with his kids and gave his mistresses mother money to cover funeral costs by way of apology.

Meeko had never felt better. Then the song was played In an underground club on the anniversary of Reed Burgess death. Investigators ruled the sudden collapse of the club a bizarre freak accident, and the same determination was made in seventy three other cases where nightclubs inexplicably collapsed, burned or, in one case, provided the setting for the largest case of mass electrocution in the city’s history.

Meeko took calls from reporters the next day, and maintained his belief that these were all just horrible coincidences. That night, he was woken by a strange voice. He went into his studio, where the sound was coming from, and opened the door.

“Madness takes you further/success flows on like murder.”

Meeko tried destroying the keyboard with a brick, but the voice grew louder, and repeated its mantra even more insistently. Then Meeko remembered where he’d bought it. It was no use putting it back on Ebay now, not with everything that was attached to it, and even the nutcases who collected spooky shit didn’t deserve to suffer. There had to be a way to get rid of the keyboard and still contain the curse.

The keyboard is now on display at the Minotaur Music Museum, where it sits inside a smal, glass, soundproof case. The sample pads still light up once and again, but it’s mostly just a petulant flicker.