“Are you sure that you can do this?” Svengallop asked again.
Coloratura gave a confident smile, “I’m ready to sing if the orchestra is ready to play. You already made copies for the players, haven’t you?”
Her manager looked over her shoulder from their crystal carriage. Behind him were their stage crew, some of them carrying boxes of the freshly printed sheet music from the night before. “All set up and ready to go, Countess,” he said. “I just hope that you’ve practiced on your part, after all, we’re taking quite a huge gamble.”
“Don’t worry; I’ve practiced the aria to the point that I can sing it backward if I have to. I think you and everypony else are in for a surprise.”
“I’ve never heard you sing Istallion or opera for that matter.”
“I know you’re nervous, but trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
Svengallop leaned back at his seat as the carriage rounded a corner to the street where the opera house was located. He looked down at his watch that read it was one-thirty in the afternoon. They already had lunch, and the Countess chose a feathery dress that made her look like a veiled peacock. Normally, the manager would have no doubt that his client would get into any musical event easily, but he kept reminding himself this was Beethoven they were talking about. The short-tempered, literal giant of classical music, the composer that has become more popular than the Countess; and now she is planning to go in without the assistance of voice synthesizers, back up dancers, or even the rhythms of a bass beat. As much as he tried not to show it, he was very nervous.
After pulling up to the grand doors of the opera house, the group stepped out and went inside the luxurious opera house. Even before they could see the grand oval theater, they could hear an orchestra warming up and a great number of voices talking at once. When they entered into the massive auditorium, it was cluttered with ponies, crystal and otherwise. Some of them were looking through their sheet music while others were clumped in groups gossiping. The Philharmonic itself were mingled in all of this, some of them haven’t taken out their instruments. As for Beethoven, he sat in the very front row in his specially made chair.
Not to say they weren’t noticed right away. Those who were near the entrance did a double take upon seeing who was coming in, “What the…” a stallion said as his eyes widened in surprise.
“Countess Coloratura?” a mare spoke aloud.
“What is she doing here?” another asked. Murmurs sprang up as the entourage moved deeper into the theater with Coloratura at the head. Ponies left and right was completely puzzled to see a celebrity such as her to suddenly walk in on the first day of rehearsals. They’ve watched the colorful group of ponies making their way up to the front rows to where Mr. Beethoven was scribbling and muttering away.
Ludwig sat there in his wooden chair, jotting and messily editing the notes from his composition score. He didn’t look up to notice the familiar looking group of ponies in front of him. The only time he did look up was when he felt something poking at his leg. For a moment, he just looked at them before he reached into his pocket to take out and unroll his magic scroll.
“What do you want?” he inquired, “If you are demanding for a rematch for what happened in November, then I’m sorry to say that we are very busy right now.”
The Svengallop stepped forward. “Mr. Beethoven, hi, I’m Svengallop, Countess Coloratura’s manager. We’re here on behalf of my client to see if there’s an opening for an audition.” This got everypony’s attention, “When she heard that your next symphony included another choir, the Countess was hoping that she could audition so that she could have a spot in that choir. So, are you hosting any auditions at all?”
“We have plenty of voices,” Ludwig said as he returned to his composition book. “I have two whole choirs and plenty of soloists at my disposal – for now, I don’t see the need to have auditions when I’ve got plenty of ponies as it is.”
“Now Mr. Beethoven,” the manager pleaded, “this right here isn’t your average singer, this is the Countess Coloratura we’re talking about. The most famous pop singer and six-time Award-winning star in Equestria. Now we’ve come here to ask you to give her a spot in your concert, only to turn her down without so much as hearing what she’s got?”
“Unless my memory deceives me,” Beethoven pointed out, “I was there when we had that competition thing months ago. I’ve listened to the vibrations of a half an hour’s worth of her music. There wasn’t much of a voice to listen to underneath all the bizarre sounds you had buried it under.”
“Why you-” before Svengallop could fully lose his temper, he felt a hoof on his shoulder. He turned it was his client’s.
“Mr. Beethoven,” she said, “all I’m asking here is a chance to prove myself, without the dancers, or the light show, or even all the modern music that I tend to sing to. If it helps, I’ve brought with me an old aria that I think would suit your liking; prove that I’m capable of singing something as difficult as what these other ponies can sing in an opera.”
Ludwig looked up, staring at her. From around the opera house, whispers could be heard from the acoustic walls.
“Is she serious?”
“A pop singer singing an operatic aria, oh this I gotta see.”
“There’s no way she can do it.”
“Is she crazy?”
Finally, Beethoven spoke, “I have one question for you Fräulein. One in which I ask every musician here: how well trained are you in music?”
“Well,” Svengalloped grinned, “I’ll have you know that she-”
“HABE ICH DICH GEFRAGT?!?” the giant silenced him. “I was talking to her.”
“I’ve been singing since I was a filly,” the Countess began. “I have been taking singing lessons since I got my cutie mark. I know how to play the guitar and the piano, and I’m good at songwriting. I have graduated from the Moztrot Conservatory for singing. I’ve sung in musicals since I was a teenager, and I was a street musician in Manehattan until Svengallop helped me become famous. And I’ve also been practicing a difficult piece from Vifilly since I’ve heard about your Ninth Symphony. So would you please give me this chance to try out before you dismiss me?”
Ludwig looked over to the other ponies that were with them carrying boxes, “I assume they have copies of the score?”
She nodded, “I was also hoping if I could borrow your string section to help, I’ve brought copies for them to play.”
It took about fifteen minutes for the strings to assemble onstage, but to set up the equipment for Beethoven to hear as well. After music stands were set up and sheet music was sorted out, the orchestra tuned up their instruments while Vinyl made last-minute adjustments to the microphones, one for the strings and the other for the countess.
Once everything was prepared, Coloratura stepped up on stage, her head held up high, she walked up to the microphone that faced Ludwig. Stepping in place, she looked towards the giant who had his headphones around his head, his chin resting on his fingers. “Begin when ready,” Beethoven said.
The singer closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before giving a nod. Musicians raised their bows and turned towards the first violinist, the purple teenager Bow to start playing. He raised his bow for the signal before the opera house rang out with sharp, fiery chords. For about the first thirty seconds, the oval theater was caught in the sound of a wildfire. Notes from the violins down were firing out notes with near lightning speed and the ferocity of thunder. Yet, in the heat of the opening, the mare in the peacock dress stood unmoved, her chest puffed up, and she seemed to strike a pose of a general about to give the army the order to charge.
From her mouth, the song of a phoenix flew out. “In furore iustissimae irae,” it was a complete shock to the ponies that expected a mare like her to fail, was singing with the fury of a spicy prima donna. Each clear note shot out in rapid precision like a rain of arrows. The rhythm, timing, and the trade-make trills of the Baroque period was line for line, bar for bar perfect. It even surprised her manager by surprise that she was able to sing like that.
As for Beethoven, his hands were now over his headphones, listening as carefully as much as the vibrations would let him. Although he could barely hear some of the high notes, he critically listened in as that passionate voice matched up to the strings that were playing a hurricane of an aria. He had heard singing like this before, though he was impressed at the quality that the pop singer was giving. He could tell she was giving her all into this impromptu audition.
Then the as the tempo changed, the heat subsided for a moment, giving the Countess to sing with a serenity of cool water. Her hoof lifted and waved with the notes that effortlessly scaled up and down with arpeggios with the voice of a lark. To Beethoven, to do so smoothly after that firework display of a vocal range was perhaps the most impressive thing in this enter aria.
But just as that moment of peace came, the strings violently pulled everypony back into the fire. Coloratura, with sharp eyes, was ready for the assault as the orchestra repeated the opening, waiting for her moment to enter again. This time, she repeated the same theme, but this time she pushed her own vocal cords to the limit with much higher and much more difficult notes. Even without the microphone, her voice still clearly rang out through the room, acoustics or not. If the ponies that had spent years in opera weren’t impressed, they were by the time the strings had performed the closing chords.
The opera house erupted in applause from both choirs and the remaining orchestra. Coloratura smiled widely at what she saw and heard, she immediately bowed from their reaction. But when all of that died down, everyone was now paying attention to the giant’s next words.
Ludwig took off his headphones and stood up, walking over towards the stage. “Have you ever sung an opera?” she shook her head. “A real shame, you would have done a decent job as an opera singer. Then you wouldn’t have a pony like him drowning out your voice.”
He pointed over to Svengallop as he said this. Her manager interjected, “Hey!”
But the countess’s manager went unheard, “I was more impressed when your aria had slowed down. Yes, my ninth requires great passion, but also smooth singing. I need my singers to be at top quality in order to say the words clearly, proudly, and to push themselves beyond their limits. You have done just that.” Ludwig turned around and began to walk away from here, “You will sing with the choir.”
“YES!” the mare squealed, pumping a hoof in the air. With a maddening grin on her face, she hopped off the stage and over to her manager, “Sven! This is great news! I get to sing Beethoven!”
“I admit that this is a huge relief,” Svengallop said. “Now that you’re in, I’ll be taking care of the rest. I’ll need the score for his new symphony first to see if it’ll be possible to secure a lead for you. Then again, after that performance you’ve given, I suppose it won’t be too hard to do just that.”