//------------------------------// // Chapter 20 – The Curtain Call (Part 1) // Story: The Beatle // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// The interior of the Opera House was one of those places where it perfected in the Braeque style. It was the kind of space where the very design of it made it so that one could hear a pin drop from the back of the furthest seat of the furthest balcony. A massive room where there were rows upon rows of gilded balconies, classical statues referencing Pegasi mythology, and a massive chandelier that might be considered a wonder of the world. The stage itself had a crimson and decretive gold curtain that stood three stories tall. Below at the stage lights as an orchestra pit that is covered over. Normally a place like this traditionally held elaborate operas from the great composers from Buch to Moztrot, with the seasonal classical concert; and the occasional play by Shakespur. It was the archetype stereotypical place for wealthier ponies to find culture while taking a nap. And most noticeably, it was rare to see the Opera House full. The latter of which was exactly what made this concert so unusual. For the elite ponies of Canterlot, they were surprised to see ponies from all walks of life to be here. Especially, even more shockingly, the house was populated by young teenagers who were loudly chatting away before the show could start. Perhaps the chatter was for good reason – the Royal Opera box had displayed the banner of the sisters, along with one that they didn’t recognize. It was the symbol of a butterfly. Then, with guards stepping out to blow a fanfare, two very recognizable alicorns stepped in. Along with a tall moose-like Changeling that was recognized to be King Thorax. But that was not all. The audience spoke up in murmurs when in the next box over, Pull McCart, and Dawn Lemon took their seats next to the royals. But that was not all. Five others soon joined them. If the audience knew who they were, they would identify that it was Ocellus’s friends who joined for the concert. A stallion walked up on stage, carrying a microphone in his aura. No doubt someone from one of the radio stations making last-minute preparations. He walked up and sat it down in the middle of the stage. Then he nodded and got off the stage just as Fancy Pants walked on with much applause. “Mares and Gentlecolts,” he began, “Old and Young, and Your Highnesses,” he bowed to the alicorns in the royal box. “Welcome one and all! And for those who are just tuning in, thank you for choosing Imagine 96.3 to hear the final performance of The Beatle live from the Canterlot Royal Opera House. “Before we begin, I was asked by the singer to read the following statement.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “‘To my fans, over the past several months since my announcement to disband my career as a music star – I have received several letters expressing how big of a mistake it is for me to throw all of this away. Even the stallion reading this statement agrees that this is a bad idea.” This got both a laugh and cheers of agreement from the audience. He continues reading. “‘I understand that this might have been a major shock for most of you. However, I’m doing this because, in the first place, I never intended to gain fame for myself. All I cared about, was to get the attention of four genius that was almost forgotten. This final concert is in celebration of the four geniuses who, without their contributions and creations, the music you all enjoy would not exist. Works of Pull McCart, Dawn Lemon, Forge Hayson, and Mango Star. “‘Over the past several months, we have been working hard to craft out some of the highest quality songs we could come up with. Although you wouldn’t hear them all tonight, tomorrow a new album will be distributed that will include all of the songs. But for tonight, I ask you to relax and enjoy music that is sophisticated, popular, and fun – all at the same time. And for the audience here in this theater to remain quiet between songs and save your applause in between them so those at home can hear it too. Signed, Ocellus.’ “Now with that in mind and without further ado, Imagine 96.3 proudly presents The Curtain Call, staring The Beatle, the Canterlot Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the Changing Hearts Choir, and a cameo of the Kyoto Quartet. Starting this performance with Forge Hayson’s: While My Guitar Gently Weeps.” Fancy walks off stage as the giant curtain rises. The large audience within the great music hall erupted into applause and shouts as they now saw Ocellus walking up to the microphone. A white suit with a red carnation pinned above her heart. Behind her, four ponies sat on mats, each holding a Neighponese instrument. One held a Shamisen, another a Koto, a third a Shakuhachi, and the last a Biwa. Behind them was the entire orchestra of strings, winds, brass, Mango Star at a drum set, a grand piano, and a small group of electric guitars. Including a conductor on the stand. Instantly, the elite of the audience attendance thought of the same thing. ‘This is going to be an interesting evening.’ Ocellus gave a subtle cue of nodding where the cascade plucking of the Shakuhachi and the Biwa strings. A whimsical yet, powerful momentum in Neighponese accent. And there, standing in the spotlight, Ocellus played out the same rhythm on her guitar before she sings. It was a sleepy but intriguing tone where never was she bored by it but carried with a graceful but subtly commanding voice. The orchestra soon came in to help paint the atmosphere of the song with bold colors like an Impressionist painting. For the poorer audience, they bobbed their heads, tapped their hooves to this exotic, snapping rhythm. A surreal pop song in Neighponiese clothing as far as they were aware of. Yet, to the ponies who were trained to listen with a classical ear, some elements were familiar, and fresh at the same time. The mix of a western orchestra with the flare of instruments from the far east to their ears proved a revelation. The song they were hearing didn’t glorify one element or the other but were woven together in this stunning masterpiece of a song. A breath of fresh air for many who listen to the Avant Gard. This wasn’t a piece of music that tried to reflect the ugliness of the world, but one that took elements from faraway lands to make something beautiful. Up in the royal balcony, Gallus leaned over to Smolder. “This sounds like the opening of an anime film, doesn’t it?” He whispered. She shrugged, “How would I know? I never watched any of that stuff.” “Said the Dragoness who had on a blue princess dress.” Smolder grabbed him, “I thought we agreed that never happened.” “You and your repressed memories.” Luna cleared her throat. “Pardon, some of us are trying to listen.” At this moment, she glanced over to her older sister. “A miracle! Somepony hasn’t fallen asleep within the first five minutes.” “Hey, at least it’s not opera.” Celestia whispered back. “I think I’ve finally found a genre of music that I liked.” “Thank you for the compliment,” Dawn Lemon told them, “But some of us are trying ta listen.” At around this point, Ocellus steps aside to where the spotlight shines on the Shakuhachi player with his solo. A solo that requires him to do difficult things to his three-string instrument. Notes that come tumbling, rolling, streaming down like tears. Although it doesn’t sound like the instrument was wailing hysterically, there was something siren-like in how complicated beautiful this crying Shakuhachi was. In a surreal moment, Ocellus sang – not to the player of the instrument – but to the Shakuhachi itself. Singing her pity at the unfortunate fate of its crying strings, yet, not understanding how something so wonderful could be twisted into something so unfortunate. How could something be inverted without alarming of it being so? She revises the first verse that was about as she looks at all the audience, of their love that’s asleep. During the song, some of the audience began to notice that something was missing. Fancy Pants mentioned a choir, but looking around on the stage, they noticed that there wasn’t any. Was it a mistake of some sort? That was when they noticed the sound of young voices singing. Where was it coming from? Looking about, they saw that in some of the opera boxes, there were colorful Changelings in groups singing along. The choir, they realize, was hidden in plain sight in the audience! The effect they had was haunting as it echoed like spirits. On stage, the Shakuhachi player attempts at playing the most difficult part of the song as those graceful wails now reached a terrifying crescendo that was the height of the emotion in its first piece. Then suddenly, the song calms back down with a piano solo repeating the theme as gently as a lullaby. The conductor on the stand gives the audience their cue to applaud. There were hoots, screams, and hollers, much to the annoyance of the Canterlot elite. The four musicians that were playing the Neighponese instruments got up, bowed low, and removed their mats and themselves off stage. Ocellus waited, looking her shoulder over to the conductor to begin the next song. The conductor listened to the audience to settle down, turning the score, and rose his baton. As they waited, the strings raised their bows and put their hooves on the strings, ready to pluck them. Then after the audience was calm and still, he began. The strings from the violins down to the cellos began to pluck their strings that, to the classically trained ear, sounded similar to Beethooven’s moonlight, yet, something seemed a little off. The pizzicato continued for half a minute until they suddenly stopped, giving Ocellus and the choir their cue to begin. Although the young Changeling sang the main melody and played her guitar, the choir’s harmony sang only “Ahh,” yet their arrangement sounded like a beautifully arranged Buch cantata that was stripped to its essentials. There wasn’t much Braeque ordination, but for Ocellus who sang about the simplicity of nature leaves her in awe – it was transcending. What she sang on that stage, that because the world is not just round, but that the wind blows so high, and that the sky is blue – it amazes her. This short hymn with a soul-healing harmony, and a choir that sang how love can be both old and new, how it is all and you; what tears of beauty were brought to the eyes of the broken. On top of all that, the strings and guitars both acoustic and electric sang like the adagios of a Moztrot symphony. In this short song, there was something beautifully honest in its sound that left even the elite of Canterlot speechless. “This best song Ocellus put out.” Yona whispered. “I wish Auntie Novo were here.” Silverstream leaned over to the side to whisper to her. “This song is gorgeous.” “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions yet.” Sandbar pointed out. “Remember, this is the second song and we’ve just got started.” “That reminds me,” Smolder turned to him, “How many songs is she doing tonight anyway?” “Let me check,” Gallus picked up a playbill to count the songs. “It’s gonna be divided into two parts. But in all, there are eleven plus two others that are labeled as ‘surprise,’ whatever that means.” Soon the song ended, and Fancy Pants entered on stage, whipping a few tears from his eye. “That was Because a Pull McCart and Dawn Lennon collaboration.” As he talked, two violinists, a violist, and a cellist moved from their seats to move closer to the microphone but right behind Ocellus. The young Changeling handed her guitar over to the pianists to put it away for now. “Up next, is one cracker of a ballad. It is a tale of a mare over a hundred years ago who lived in crippling isolation. This is the tragic story of Eleanor Rigby.” The audience applauds for a few seconds, and at the moment they died down, the string quartet begins with a forceful, loud few notes. For the first minute into the song, the string quartet dove right into a fugue that sounded like a duel between Vifilli and Buch. Each style trying to gain dominance over the other that wasn’t civil at all. The fugue had the violence of Beethooven that rambles between this argument of the two violins versus the viola and cello. Ocellus, her eyes closed, counted in her head the beats, waited for her cue to sing. On time, she began to spin a tale of a mare named Eleanor Rigby. A lonely mare who picks up the rice after weddings. A dreaming mare that sits alone by a window where no one will come to visit. She hides her face, perfectly preserved – only no one knows for what or whom she is saving it for. In this same place, a priest writes for a sermon that is destined to be left unheard. So, in the meantime, he fixes up his socks when there is none to be with. Ocellus questions for what does the priest care. She asks where do all these lonely ponies come from, and, more importantly, where do they belong? For a brief moment, the audience and the quartet meditate on this question. During this intense two minutes, the Changeling choir from the opera boxes points the way to look at the audience – at these lonely ponies. The four instruments debated this question in their abstract language. The two violins seem dismissive while the cello gives a long, lofty but unhelpful answer. If anything, the viola in all of this debate seemed to be the only one to be taking this issue seriously. Outright scolding the two violins and cello for doing nothing. The other instruments respond: repeat the fugue and hopes that this would go away. In silence, regardless of who was in the audience, they were faced with an uncomfortable question about loneness. Not just their own, but when the choir points out to look at all the lonely ponies, for some it got them thinking. Who among this audience never got anyone to be visited by? How many ponies like Eleanor are there in this theater alone? Are these famous faces they’re seeing – including Ocellus – lonely too? “The story of my life.” Luna muttered under her breath. “What?” Celestia asked, her ears perked up. “Have you come across a song that tells the truth about yourself that despite being so good you hate it on some level?” She looked up and her sister blinked. “Unlike you, hardly anyone comes to visit the Princess of the Night except for Nightmare Night. You may see ponies all the time, but I barely do in real life except in the Dreamworld.” Celestia didn’t respond but instead tilted her head a little to look into the other box. Gallus was paying very close attention to the song – leaning a little over the balcony. “You know,” Celestia said, “the song is asking where the lonely come from. And by the looks of it,” she pointed. “I don’t think you’re entirely alone with being alone.” Back on stage, Ocellus gives a dark ending to this song. Eleanor died alone with nothing more than her name. All the priest did was to bury hear, wiping the dirt from his hooves. Neither he nor Elanor was saved that day. The choir asks the question again of where do the lonely belong as the string Quartet closes. There was an applause, not as loud as before but still enough for ponies to give a sign of how much they liked it. After the Quartet bows and returned to their seats, Ocellus cleared her throat. “What you are about to hear,” she said over the microphone, “was written and played by Forge Hayson to help purpose to his wife. This might be the most underrated love song ever written. It’s called – Something.” Ocellus started to sing what was the most minimalistic out of all the songs they heard that night. Nothing more than her own voice and a soft playing piano. The only thing that carried it along, was an honest melody that echoed inside the Opera House like a cave. There was something about the song that was as haunting as Eleanor Rigby and yet, it was sweet in its simplicity. Perhaps, the charm comes in how Ocellus sang it as if it was the sigh of someone in love. Even with the use of the choir, it was used only sparingly but just at the right moments. That they were used to help give color to the song when it was absolutely needed. Ghostly and yet, heartbreakingly beautiful at the same time. The audience could see how someone would use this as a marriage proposal. It was the quietest of the songs so far. At the same time, it was unapologetically romantic. This short song had the poetry of Roanio and Filliet but distilled with all the feelings of a mature love into a three-minute-long piece. Short, sweet, yet a small masterpiece to the ear. In the opera box where Gallus leaned over, hunched over, his head resting on the velvet railing. Silently, without using any words, Silverstream got out of her seat and went next to him. Neither one said anything as they looked at one another – with Silverstream giving a look of concern and him in return with a look of wanting someone to be with him. She unfolded a wing, she wrapped it around him in a warm, soft hug. Everyone else in that box raised a few eyebrows. At the end of this song, the audience applauded once more and Fancy Pants walked back on stage. “That was ‘Something’ by Forge Hayson. And now we turn to a happy-go-lucky tune, inspired by the composer’s nostalgic memories of their foalhoods in Trottingham. Imagine 96.3 now invites you to take a stroll down a place called Penny Lane.” The audience applauds once again while Fancy walks off and Ocellus returns to the microphone. Meanwhile, the conductor raises his baton and the strings prepare for what was to come next. When the audiences die down, they began. What followed was a piece that had a different flavor compared to the previous songs the audience has heard. Ocellus and the strings sing a tune that can only be described as nostalgic but trying to have fun with it. A quirky bit that describes little incidences and characters from the composers’ lives. That on a road of Penny Lane, there was a barber that took photographs of the customers; who was friendly enough for them to come by to say Hello. Of the banker with a carriage that the foals laugh behind his back when it’s raining because he never wore a raincoat. Nearby there was a firemare with an hourglass; with a small portrait of Celestia in his coat pocket, he tends to keep his fire engine as spotless and shiny as possible. In a shelter in the center of a roundabout, a nurse sells flowers out of a tray as if she was in a play. From Penny Lane, the barber shaves a customer while the banker waits for his turn when suddenly the firemare rushes in from the rain. At the same time Ocellus is singing this, the musically literate audience was intrigued by the melody in that it too was going on a journey. In that, it didn’t just go with the usual chord progression as most pop musicians that made it dull. While some in the audience didn’t notice, but the key signatures shifted and slide from one major key to another at surprising, unexpected moments. It was playful and didn’t take itself too seriously as it gave the listeners a tour around the street of Trottingham. Although it kept itself upbeat, it was never too childish sweet to make it cringe-worthy yet welcoming to the ear that it made one want to stay there. Regardless of who was listening, this song spoke to everyone on some level. With a melody that was bright and warm as sunlight during summer, to them, it was a much-needed breath of fresh air. That although it used an old fashion orchestra, it had the youthful energy and catchy tune of a pop song. The best of both worlds that came together to make something that was both old and new in the best sort of way. Needless to say, the minute-long applause was deservingly well received. Fancy Pants come out again to the microphone. “Mares and Gentlecolts, listeners who are tuned in, Ocellus will sing one more song before we take a ten-minute intermission. But before we could get into that, we have one more wonderful song called A Day in the Life.” Picking up her guitar off from the piano, she rushed over to the microphone, preparing herself to sing what was in her mind – the big one. Together with her guitar and the orchestra, they began what is the most symphonic song out of all the music that was done that evening so far. Sober as a misty morning, Ocellus started to sing the things she read in the news that day. The first being of a lucky stallion that was successful. An admittingly sad piece of news but found the photograph funny. In that, he died while driving his carriage because he didn’t notice the lights had changed. Ponies nearby stood and stared at his face as if trying to recognize him from somewhere. She also saw a film about how the Equestrian Army had won the war. While ponies have turned away from the movie, she still watched because she had read the book. What followed, however, was a sound that no one in the audience of the opera house nor on the radio could expect. It started as a wobbly chord, and then, from the lowest register of the orchestra, notes started to rise and slide, climb, and slid up from one bar to the next from the lowest note to higher and higher. This terrifying sound moaned and groaned upward, getting louder, strange, and intense. And then, at the highest notes, the orchestra could reach when it could take it no more, it suddenly stopped and replaced by a ticking piano and a ringing alarm clock. All of a sudden, the song had gone from a serious tone to upbeat as she described the more regular parts of life. She woke up and fell out of her bed. She went through her morning routine, and just as she was having breakfast, she looked at the time and found she was late. After grabbing her things, she made the bus with seconds to spare. Then she went upstairs on the bus when someone spoke, she went into a dream. What that was, the choir sang over in a dreamlike swirl and the orchestra’s heroic horns struggled to keep itself awake. Ocellus continues to sing, that in the news, thousands of holes were found in Griffonst Station. Despite the holes being small, someone still counted them all. Because of that, they now know how many it takes to fill the Sydneigh Hall. Then at the end of her song, she stepped away quietly, letting the orchestra take over by repeating the same noise as before. From the lowest notes of all of the instruments, they began again bar after bar to build up that weird, tuning up the sound. Groaning, whistling, sliding, moaning, shirking, screaming, the strange, curiously retched sound grew louder with every passing bar. And then, as the orchestra couldn’t take it anymore at the highest of notes, the piano slammed the final notes. The conductor, for a full minute, didn’t dare finished the song until the vibrations of the orchestra and the piano were completely quiet. Letting the reverberations wibble and wobble until they too die down. When it was all finally quiet, he let his baton down. The song was over, and the audience stood up in their applause. Fancy Pants, amid the stomping, whistles, and cheers, rushed to the microphone. “You are listening to Imagine 96.3, we’ll be back for part two after the break.” The curtain goes down.