First Live
By Lyra Heartstrings
It’s my first live in a long time, maybe ever,
And I just realized that I forgot my sustaining pedal and amp, and microphone, and keyboard stand, and probably my nerve, and all I have is a notebook filled with cruddy song lyrics and poems, but I do have a keyboard and my voice and some of my wits about me so I go up on stage, a bit afraid, because
This is my first live in a long time, maybe ever,
And the ponies in the crowd don’t know me from Tom the Rock, and most of them aren’t listening anyway; they’re engrossed in talk or thoughts, or way too much apple cider, and the open mic sound pony is drinking apple cider too, but he’s pretty cool and brings me a table to sit my keyboard on and a chair that takes the place of a bench, and he plugs my keyboard into an amp, and gives it power with a spare power cord, and he sets me up with a mic, dims the lights, and sets me free to create – something – and the audience below kind of responds but is mostly busy with the things mentioned before and I feel alone, sitting at this keyboard I play every day, I know every note to except when I’m at open mic night at Charley’s so I give a brief introduction and start to play – in the wrong key, and I apologize and start playing in the right one and my song seems contrived because I don’t have my pedal drawing out the notes, but at least my voice is ok and I still have some of my wits about me and I think it’s going pretty well, considering
This is my first live in a long time, maybe ever,
And the song ends and the mares and stallions clap their hooves out of obligation, and the sound pony tells me to play another song, so I pull one out of nowhere and start to play, but it is obvious that is isn’t finished and not even I know where it is going and the audience stops talking or drinking because even they know I have no idea what I am doing and most of them probably think is intentional because they laugh or they clap, or just scratch their heads trying to figure out the deeper meaning, but there is no deeper meaning, I’m just unprepared, but still I think I’m doing pretty good, considering
It is my first live in a long time, maybe ever,
And when I get to the end of the song, more ponies clap because they figure it was a comedy act and everyone needs a good laugh, and the sound pony asks if I want to do one more song and I ask if I can read a poem instead and he says, sure why not, and is probably thinking you can’t mess up a poem, but oh how wrong he is, because for the first five minutes I can’t find the poem and then when I finally find it there are only a few minutes left so I start reading it fast, like a Trenderhoof radio broadcast, and some ponies see the connection and aren’t amused, but I keep reading the poem as fast as I can; I figure I’ve got to preserve this live somehow and this poem is the best I’ve got, and even though it’s spit out faster than a trademark Pinkie Pie rap, the content is good and powerful, and I’m hoping will save my failed attempt to be a piano goddess, something I always am except when I’m playing live at Charley’s on Tuesday night and my nerve is not here, and all of my equipment is missing except for my voice, an old keyboard, and a notebook filled with cruddy song lyrics and poetry and I get to the end of the poem and it touches some hearts, and some ponies are still trying to figure out what I said. And others are too drunk on apple cider to know I’ve stopped reading the poem and still listening and the sound pony tells me my time is up and I thank him for letting me perform as I gather my keyboard, notebook, and wits and leave the stage, and the audience claps out of obligation, and as I walk away from the disaster I get bitten with the bug, the performance bug, the open mic night at Charley’s bug, and I think to myself, that didn’t go so bad.
It was my first live in a long time, after all, maybe ever,
And considering I had no equipment or nerve, I think I did rather well. I’ll have to come unprepared more often I think this as I walk away from the bar I performed in, in front of ponies who are all too drunk on cider to remember me and all the faults I brought to
My first live in a long time, maybe ever, that certainly won’t be my last.