The year is 2112. Digital audio workstations have been outlawed by the cybercorps. Illegal "headphone dens" purvey music to the rich and desperate. On the streets, people walk with a disjointed arrhythmic step so the cybercops don't write them up for music crime.
That is, except for top hackers like myself. I'm Lydia Synthblade, the baddest songrunner under the dome.