Weeks later after polishing Sweetie’s new score, getting the Philharmonic to rehearse it and sending invites to those we deemed worthy to hear this work – we were ready. While my student had indeed composed and at times sang her own pieces, it should be noted that she had never really conducted an orchestra before. So because of this and the limited time frame we had, she personally asked me to conduct her symphony. (Even though she did make several objections during rehearsals.) In fact, when I offered to teach her how to conduct it, she refused to do so on the grounds of nervousness.
Now before I can tell you, dear reader, what exactly happened at that world première, I should give my thoughts about the style of music. Critics have said that what she wrote isn’t exactly a symphony as it reused certain themes over and over, that variations in every movement don’t fully explore possibilities beyond it. However, in my opinion, while my forty-first symphony was contorted to fit the standards of the time, to me this was like a breath of fresh air.
After all, the criticism put me in mind of Beethoven’s symphonies, particularly his third as it, like Sweetie’s, was interested in telling a story, then just serenading the audience with a lovely melody. This music, to me, was original; it showed what a symphony could do outside the standard four movements and the fixed structures in between.
Besides, to me, this symphony was about fantasy. Which was why on the day before, I penned an orchestra transcription of something from Beethoven that would act as a sort of overture for our small audience. Granted, the orchestra was rather annoyed that I would spring this on them at the very last minute, but at least it was something that they’d already liked.
Now it was time to open the curtain, with the setting in the ballroom of Fancy Pants. The orchestra was tuning up by the time my student and I got there with her big sister right behind. We walked through rows of empty chairs; in the very front row were two violet cushions that waited to be sat upon by royal bottoms. Fancy was the first to greet us.
“Isn’t this exciting?” he said as he went up to my student. “It’s not every day that we get to hear a symphony from a talented lady such as yourself.”
“I’m just hoping that it goes over well.” She blushed modestly.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said, patting her head. “This orchestra is ready for something new. And with all that I’ve heard, this is as new as it gets.”
“So who’s coming if you don’t mind of me asking?” Ms. Rarity asked. While I and her sister listed off the names of our small audience, she on the other hoof adjusted the new overcoat I was wearing. Since this was made by her, she had been making last-minute stitches and cutting off threads to make sure that forest green overcoat with silver buttons was presentable.
In time, our guests fell in. First were my student’s friends, the ones who called themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Then came the student of Princess Twilight and her wizard friend Sunburst. Wilfred along with Mr. Sauté and Fan took their seats. Star Swirl sat in a corner of the room, Horseshoepin taking his place right next to him. Finally, both Princesses Twilight and Celestia, along with their everpresent Solar Guards, seated themselves at the very front.
At three o’clock as our very small audience settled down to engage in small talk, I stepped forward onto the little platform of the conductor’s stand. “Good afternoon everyone! Thank you all for coming to this little get-together. Today is a rather special one as this will be the first time that our guest of honor, Star Swirl the Bearded, shall hear a symphony. So for the occasion, my student has composed the perfect piece to introduce the symphony, to him and all of you as well.
“However, before we begin, I wrote a little arrangement for the orchestra as a warm up to Sweetie’s first symphony. I have chosen something that should get us all in the mood for what lies ahead: an arrangement from Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Number 14, his Quasi Una Fantasia. Which for me is quite fitting, as this little concert has much to do with fantasies as only music can successfully tell them. Do not think that I am playing this overture so that I may lull you to sleep, but in order for you to come dream with me.” Thus I turned to my orchestra where they too, began to dream.
First came the rhythmic stability of eighth notes that danced among the violins and the violas. Their movement gently rocked those who listen with their quiet bowing. Even the chords from the cellos and double basses drifted into slumber. But by the fifth bar, out from the oboes, came a lullaby without wordswhichBeethoven, as I imagined it, was singing. A simple tune, but even here in this slow adagio, it was perfect in every bar. Every chord was carefully thought out. While this was originally for the keyboard, even here the very impression of dreaming a passionate trance was still present.
As I conducted, I glanced over at my shoulder to see how Star Swirl reacted. Thankfully he was indeed awake, but his gaze was not to the orchestra, but to the windows at the sky. No doubt that if I were to look at him in the eye, it would have the look of daydreaming. I wondered for a brief moment what exactly could he be thinking about – yet, at the same time, I realized that it was working. Indeed, it wasn’t just him, but even this small audience was driven into a meditative-like state. Even Sunbutt was pondering as the violins swooned in the flow of this rich melody.
I have to admit, up until then, it was only until now the effect that Beethoven really had on his audience was made evident. This one movement alone showed that his music was doing something incredible: it moved them. To me, this showed the power of a composer is to weave sound in a way that could bring their listeners to humorous laughter one moment and to tears the next. I wondered what sort of being who crafted these notes was like… (Note to self: ask someone who knew Beethoven.)
The concert’s overture ended with two closing whole notes that ended quietly before the stomping of hooves. I turned around to face them, but my attention was caught on Sweetie’s as her hooves were hugging her sister’s foreleg. We both knew that this was it.
“I’m going to tell you all a story,” I began as I recited as the young mare had to me. “There was once, upon the sands of time in Saddle Arabia, a king that was cruel. But the king wasn’t corrupted by power or wealth, but by a broken heart from his queen. She betrayed him with a servant, and that made his heart turn to ice. For such an act alone had convinced him that all mares were as wicked as his queen. So much so, that every evening he married a new wife, only to have her executed the following morning.
“While many mares were afraid, there was one, very brave lady that not only volunteered to be the king’s new wife but made a vow that he would cure him of his illness of the mind. In fact, before the sun could be raised, she asked her husband, ‘If it would please you, I wish to tell you one of my charming stories to pass the night away.’ So he bid her to do so. Thus, on that first of many nights, she began her tale of a sailor named Sinbad.”
(Now before I go any further, I should reassure the reader that I had almost to no involvement in how Sweetie composed her first symphony. If anything, the only influence I had was helping her in constructing harmonies for the instruments of the orchestra. Everything she did with the music was entirely her own invention. Her rhythms, use of chords and how she created variations was entirely her own.)
So I quickly turned around, thus opening the symphony with dark, intimidating brass chords. No doubt that it was the king that orders our heroine to tell him a story right away before he has the executioner chop her head off. With intimidation from the clarinets and flutes, she speaks from a solo violin. The voice of a haunting, exotic but no doubt feminine solo that tells him with a silken tone to sit down so she may tell him a story.
Thus, she begins as the cellos move about as waves while the violas and violins conjure up the image of the high sailing, buccaneer sailor. As instructed by the young composer, he was strong and handsome like the one described in her book. I had to give her credit; her ingenious use of the strings did rather make one feel as if they were at sea with the waves moving back and forth. But you don’t get sick of it because of the combinations and variations of melodies that work together in this colorful movement.
I will give my student credit that she has a gift with painting a picture with nothing more than sound. More than just her use of variation, but in a way, she made it almost sound like she was crafting different characters for a ballet. If anything, just having them without dancers or pictures had given her the advantage as the orchestra crafted the scene inside the listener’s minds. Simply because of how lyrical it is and not at all abstract.
At the end of the ten-minute movement, the small audience stomped their hooves, much to my student’s relief. In fact, before I was given a chance to speak, I heard one of her friends, an orange filly Pegasus saying to her. “You wrote all of that? That was amazing!” she said with a hug.
Even Twilight got into the act, “I saw the swelling sea with the ship with Sinbad just setting out for adventure. That was good.”
“Don’t praise me just yet,” Sweetie told them. “We’ve just got through the first part.”
I cleared my voice and the ballroom fell silent once again. “Scheherazade’s method had worked as the king was now enticed by her fantastic stories. So much so, that after she completed the tale of Sinbad, that he wished to hear another. Thus, his wife began with the tale of a bored prince whose curiosity led him to see what was outside his palace walls. This was the story of the Kalandar Prince.”
Thus the violin solo began the second movement as she whispered the words, “Once upon a time…” with the bassoon setting up the character of a melodic but sighing prince. This opening theme was undoubtedly rich in tone but there was something from the lower register of the harp to suggest that there was something rotten, monotonous even that trapped the virtuosic soloists that passed this theme around as if they were trapped in a golden cage. But by the time that it reached the violins, the tempo picked up as they were now free. A welcoming ecstasy came with the prince who no doubt climbed over the high walls and into the streets on the other side. Everywhere the orchestra went, great wonders were to be seen and heard, hypnotizing the audience like a snake charmer. Yes, even I could tell that moment had come when the violin left the whole orchestra so awestruck that it echoed in the chamber.
But then, came the blare of warring trumpets and the threats of cellos of armed soldiers. Even the princely theme was curious about what was going on as they marched through the streets in their shiny if not pompous parade. At one point, even the hero of our story had a dreamy desire to join such a troupe who ventured forth to fight as they raised the tempo to a full-out march.
At the same time, I have to confess that what Sweetie Belle was doing in this second movement was fascinating. Because for most of this, she does repeat the prince’s theme over and over, but the way in which she wanted each instrument to play it let her create movement and development even if very little of it. In a way, it reminded me of that match game: after you used a few to create a fish, you had to make it swim the other way but only use four moves to do it. While this music had the intelligence of an adult, I could tell that there was a playful side as Sweetie is playing a match game with the orchestra in regard to tonality.
The same could be said of the second half as she now used entire sections of the orchestra to swoon and carve out a world. Yes, there were harsh moments here and there, but she countered it with richer, even lively harmonies. Besides, she had the good sense to end it with a bang, like the prince falling over into a pond.
After the applause, Celestia waved my student over. “Just out of curiosity,” she asked, “How much of this is yours, the symphony I mean.”
“Mr. Moztrot helped me out with balancing the orchestration, as well as the logic of how it all works. All the themes, however, are mine. In fact, Moztrot insisted that he wouldn’t change a note without me saying so. But do you like it, Princess?”
“It has the impression of Saddle Arabian folk music but arranged for a modern orchestra.” She added with a sly smile, “You’ve been studying your mentor’s Saddle Arabian March, have you?”
She tilted her head, “Why would I do that? I’m not interested in copying Moztrot, just in understanding how he does it.”
I cleared my throat, “As touching as that is my student, we’re just halfway through your symphony. And now to my personal favorite movement.” She nodded and returned to her seat. “Now that the king had her full attention, Scheherazade told him a new tale. One that was a romance between two lovers from different parts of the known world. Through magic pools, the two of them were able to converse as well as to see one another.”
Thus, I conducted the strings into the romance of the Third Movement. A feminine sound of the violins and violas that painted a portrait of a mare in a garden. One with exotic orange and date trees with eternal flowers, towering palms and clear waters that flow. Yet, this mare, whose beauty was only matched by that of the music representing her, wasn’t interested in the flora around her, but towards the pond in the very center. The calm water of the pond did not reflect her image, but that of someone else. The lower register had a masculine tone that acted as a counterpoint, but still gentle within its waters.
To me, this movement is my personal favorite because of how lyrical it is. If I were to use this same melody, I would set it to words in an aria. Personally, I would simplify the melody a little, but for what she has, it fits perfectly like a tailored coat for the subject at hoof. This Arabian theme allows her to use much ornamentation to make this as beautiful as possible. Besides, Sweetie did something that showed the mark of a great composer. Any other would have set forth this beautiful melody and made a few variations before stopping. However, because she was using her music to tell a story, she brilliantly used the prince’s theme from the previous movement about halfway to show that it is he that she has fallen in love with.
Only this time, the prince enters into this scene in a march and in a new key and rhythm to show how much he had changed since his previous adventure. The theme was shown to be confident but not vulgar. Charming the mare in the pool as from time to time the violins were being wooed.
When it returned to the mare’s point of view, she recited poetry to her love as the violins and winds seemed to echo those loving words off the walls – even in the ballroom. A poem of longing to kiss the handsome stallion in the pool, to have those warm lips against hers. Yet, at the same time, she knew that this cannot be so as her love is far away. How it pains her that she could see and hear, but never feel him. And in this melancholy, Scheherazade narrated once again from the violin solo that it is in this moment of despair, that something fantastic does happen. The prince in the reflection kneels down, close to the water and bids to kiss his lips within the mirrored pond. At first, the mare isn’t sure what good it would do but obeys. Just as she was about to lean forward, the prince popped out and granted her wish to be kissed. The movement ends with the two of them enveloped in the embrace of the violins.
One burst of applause later, I turned to face them again. Before they could speak, I began. “At this point, the mad king was getting impatient with his queen. Our heroine struggles to think of something new, that if she could do it, she may live to see another night. Although sleep tried to lure her to her death, her mind had to come up with something, anything to keep herself alive.”
Quickly turning back to the orchestra to have the music portray what I had just described, with both the king’s and Scheherazade’s theme at a quick, desperate pace. Even the soloist seemed hasty but worried as the notes jumped over the strings in an attempt to figure out what to improvise. Fortunately, with a whack from the percussionist, a new tale was spun. It began briskly as, in a marketplace, a cry of someone being robbed was heard. A flute in a gallop rushed through the streets and vendors as violins and brass thundered in pursuit, waving their sharp notes. But the flute did acrobatics over ponies’ heads and hopped onto, and over, the walls. But as this chase was going on, they incorporated past themes including the Prince and his lover.
This was without a doubt a chase as it seemed that one section of the orchestra was pursuing the other, their virtuosic rhythm bouncing off the walls of the ballroom. Sometimes, there were moments in which the thief had to hide so that he might catch his breath, but even then, the chase had to continue. But about halfway, in the background, the Sinbad theme reappears as it seems that his ship has crashed into the harbor by the market. Yet, even with the ship destroyed, he captures the thief and returns the precious item to the guards who were chasing.
Near the end, the king, now satisfied in the dawning twilight, approves of this tale. But Scheherazade, exhausted and tired, asks her husband to sleep as she is weary. The king, in turn, bids her to sleep but made her promise to continue the story for tomorrow night. So the symphony ends with the violin drifting off to dream of new adventures and characters for the next night.
Amongst the applause, I turned my attention to Star Swirl. He wasn’t stomping nor clopping his hooves, but he took off his jingling hat, respectfully placing it over his heart. At first, I was confused by this action, but Celestia and Twilight both got up and went over to my student. “Your skill and command of your music are much improved over your previous work,” the younger alicorn told her. “Sweetie Belle, you should be proud of what you’ve created.”
“I agree,” Sunbutt nodded. “While you’ve learned much from Beethoven and Moztrot, I do think that Equestria will always remember the music of Sweetie Belle.”
She bowed, “Thank you Princesses, but I couldn’t do this without my teacher. He’s the one that brought the orchestra together.”
“Don’t be so modest,” I said stepping off the platform. “All I did was call in a few favors. But one of these days I ought to teach you how to conduct. For what we’ve heard, you should be proud.”
Thus came the praises from around the small audience, each congratulating my student. However, the last of all to come was from the father of music himself. “Young one,” he said to her. “That was some impressive magic you’ve demonstrated.”
She blinked, “Magic? But I didn’t do anything.”
“Not from what I’ve heard. You actually did something that not even I think was possible: you’ve created a world with it. From many ideas, you’ve painted cities of far South of Equestria that I think even Somnambula would approve.”
“You mean it?”
He knelt down and put a hoof on her shoulder, “Music has come a long way since my time, but even when the day comes that I too must part from this world, I can rest easy knowing that it is in good hooves of ponies that can create songs of the Divine. For this is simply a work of genius.”
My student’s sister took her aside, whisking her off to celebrate the success of her first symphony before the wizard turned to me. “You have a good student.”
“I’m impressed myself,” I confessed as the orchestra was packing up. “She may be young, but she’s quite the fast learner. If she keeps this up, she will be going places.”
He nodded, “Like my Clover. One of the best students I had who learned my lessons quickly. Although, I do wish that I’d kept him on, considering how much I’ve learned since then.” After shaking his head, he changed the subject, “I noticed not many ponies have talked about that opening bit. The one you’ve arranged?”
“Oh! Yes, the Beethoven, what did you think of it?”
“Breathtakingly beautiful. I don’t listen to a lot of modern music, but after what I’ve heard, that one is a gem compared to some of the so-called modern songs they played. That and Sweetie’s symphony. I hope that composers won’t forget to make music beautiful.”
I chuckled, “Of course, that would only defeat the purpose.”