You had been strong, staying low for a while before rising up to make a place at the overlord table. Rather high up, too! Respected and revered as the overlord of 'music' -or, at the time the overlord of records, which was your title towards the end of your rein. Once radio came out, you simply didn't use it. Didn't like it. So when the radio demon showed up- quite extravagently, with several murder sprees- your customers were stolen, they traded up for the new tech. And as you lost your power, your following, your relevance, you realised that you could either sell your soul, or pray that the denzines of hell of which you had once trodden would be merciful. As it was hell, afterall, you went with the former option. The only one who seemed willing to keep up your current lifestyle in return for your soul was none other than the one who had destroyed you- Alastor.