Chapter 23: The Concert in Carneghie Hall in E minor (Part 1)
On the way to the place of the premiere, Manehattan, Beethoven spends most of his time paying more attention to the third movement of his Tenth, then he did to the passing countryside on the train. Over hills and through tunnels, Ludwig shaped and reshaped his music while taking up a good two or so seats in one corner of the car. As Ludwig hummed, his mind was in his element as he finished the first, calming theme out before writing out a crescendo towards a more monstrous melody for the violins. He started to build it on top of the violas, but when he wrote out the cello section, he found the cords were starting to pile up into hideous harmonies, to which he scratched it out before starting again.
Sitting on the other side of him was Princess Twilight with her assistant, and the pianist that will perform that night looked on as the giant carried on with mumbling and scribbling.
“So,” Spike started, “You feel prepared for tonight?”
Horseshoepin nodded, “At least I have a good idea what I’m doing. Plus, he gave the opportunity to play on his own piano, which means that I must have done something right.”
“I know that Mr. Beethoven isn’t the easiest pon- er… human to deal with,” Twilight said. “But I do appreciate you and the orchestra being patient with him.”
“He’s tough in rehearsals, I’ll give you that,” Frederic remarked. “Between practicing this and the Fourth Symphony, we barely keep up with him as it is. At least we’ll be given a break by the time Nightmare Night rolls around before we rehearse the fifth. Celestia knows what nasty surprises that one has.”
“Yeah, that I can relate,” Spike rubbed his arm. “I don’t know if you know this, but I play the piano too. And something that I’m practicing for October is a piece he wrote. While it’s not that hard, it is difficult to get in all the right notes.”
“I’m willing to bet you that’s nothing compared to what I’m about to play,” the pianist leaned back. “This has to be the most difficult thing I’ve ever played. Period. Compare to the other difficult pieces that I’ve done in the past, Buch and Moztrot are easy compared to this. Oh! And to make things interesting, the instrument that we’re bringing isn’t your normal concert piano.”
“It isn’t?” Twilight inquired, “Why?”
“Because, his piano is defiantly from another time – for one, the thing is completely made out of wood, and not the modern steel frame that we’re used to. This means that I have a limited octave range and the keys I’ve noticed are smaller. So basically, I’m playing on an early model, the fortepiano. Now while the mechanics are more or less the same (if not simplistic); it does have a different tone that I’ve noticed. What else…? Oh! And the thing is a little longer than a modern piano since all of the bass strings are too straighten out like the alto stings, so there are no strings crossing underneath the higher strings at all, which gives it the look of a harpsichord, but not the sound.”
“What do you mean by tone?” the princess asked.
“When I practiced on it, there’s a kind of unusual clarity with every single key. So when I touched it very softly, it really gets soft. If I hit a key hard enough, it will roar. But the trick is when I play multiple notes, I have to press each of them with the correct amount of force to make it sound just so.” He sighed as he looked out the window, “Which is going to make things even more difficult since Prince Blueblood will be at the performance.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spike told him. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
Yet, the pianist stared at the passing landscape, “I certainly hope so.”
_*_
Hours later as the sun was setting and the city’s weather teams were moving rain clouds overhead for tonight’s showers, Manehattaners were lining around the block at Carneghie Hall. The posters surrounding the tall brick building that promoted the premiere of two “new” Beethoven pieces: his 4th Piano Concerto, and his 4th Symphony. Just as the music hall had expected from the last symphony, the ones that were buying tickets were young ponies, teenagers mostly that put forth their hard earned bits to hear the hour-long concert.
By the time ponies finally entered the enormous white space with red seating, they’ve noticed that the first thing they saw on the half dome like space where the stage was, stood there a simple, long, and wooden instrument that was up and center with its lid open with a microphone sticking in. At first, this confused some ponies, wondering what a harpsichord was doing there. But as the time drew close for the orchestra to play, one by one, its members went up on the stage to tune their instruments.
To this, Princess Twilight and Spike entered to take their seats on the ground level near the middle of the red velvet seating. The little drake looked around him, “Where’s Blueblood?” he asked.
“Knowing him,” Twilight told him, “He’s most likely waiting for the right moment to enter.”
Indeed, on the uppermost balconies, Prince Blueblood stood behind a curtain with the entourage of his staff. When the theater seemed to be nearly full, he turned to one of his servants, “How long will this be?”
“Apparently,” the one nearest to him said. “This concert has only two acts, and both of them are only about half-an-hour each. They’ll be playing the concerto first and the symphony after.”
The blond unicorn nodded, “I see,” he peaked through the velvet curtain. “So many young ponies here – you’d expect they were going to a different kind of concert.”
“Do you see the giant out there?” one of them inquired.
He shook his head, “I don’t think so. Unless the thing is late, I don’t see him anywhere.” Turning back to his servants, he added, “Do we have the classical music kit ready?”
Another servant nodded, “Right here you’re Grace,” she tapped a hoof against a briefcase: “One neck pillow, sleeping mask, earplugs, sleeping pills, the works.”
“Good,” he faced the curtain as two of his enraged told hold of the curtain. “Here we go everypony,” the velvet vale was parted in which the prince entered the great, white hall. All four balconies worth of ponies greeted him as he took his seat that was on the front row and his blue seat was roped off.
When the last of the Canterlot Philharmonic came in, including the conductor and Pianist who bowed when their audience too clapped. But even then, they didn’t start because out from the doors of the music hall was Ludwig van Beethoven himself. Although he didn’t hear it, he was being greeted by his audience as they stomped the ground, and waved their hooves or their playbills at him.
Ludwig walked over to the very back of the hall, where a special chair that was made for him waited there, along with a pair of headphones. After putting them on, he felt the vibrations of the equine audience’s chatter before it faded away. He saw the conductor, Sea Sharp taking her place like Horseshoepin at his personal piano that now had its legs restored.
The hall was still for a moment after the conductor gave a nod, Frederic took the lead. He began with some sweeping cords, producing a curious sound. It was defiantly not like the plucking of strings like that of a harpsichord, but it wasn’t exactly like a piano either. No, this wooden instrument sounded much younger, optimistic, but disciplined that took the lead before the orchestra did.
The strings in return followed suit after the soloist established the main theme. There was something naturalistic sounding before the strings and brass joined in to build up the orchestra to make it sound adventurous yet majestic. Almost as if they were the sounds of a traveler beginning on his voyage to somewhere far away. Bidding everypony he knew goodbye before sailing off beyond the horizon.
A couple of minutes later, the piano started its solo, showing off its firework-like display of skills to the audience. Although for an instrument that looks like it should belong in a museum, there was a sense of confidence as Horseshoepin scaled up and down, doing trills and playing counterpoint on its reverse black and white keys. Engaging the orchestra in a boastful conversation where at times it was cocky in one moment and romantic the next.
Above Beethoven’s head, Blueblood listened on, sitting back a little. His ears pointed forward in judgment. “It certainly is… different,” he quietly commented.
“Does that mean you won’t need the kit, my liege?” one of the servants whispered.
“Keep it on standby,” he said. “Let’s see where this goes. It’s kept my interests so far.”
The sound of the fortepiano bounced off the white walls of the hall as Horseshoe thought back to that story the composer had told him was about, so he to imagined himself trying to be in his horseshoes. He imagined an alternative set of memories in his native homeland where he performed the piano for the first time, and how others were blown away at his skills. Just like this piece he was playing, he too used to show off of all the things he could do to wealthy patrons.
Horseshoepin played on this musical puzzle in which it used every single rule in the book to make it sound just right. While the orchestra provided the necessary support to give what he was playing gravitas, Frederic did look over from time to time at the giant that had his hands pressed firmly against the headphones as he tried to listen in. All the while wondering what the composer was thinking.
_*_
About twenty minutes from the beginning, the second movement, the Andante Con Moto, was much shorter compared to the rest of the concerto that began with the rhythm of dark strings. The pianist replied meekly yet, childlike cords that answered something bigger than themselves. The violas, cellos, double basses, however, didn’t seem satisfied, it demanded something better.
In Ludwig’s mind, although he could barely hear his own piano replying, the strings were talking in a familiar voice. It knew what that section was saying; it was something that was drilled into him as a child. ‘Es ist nicht gut genug Ludwig.’ Listening to this movement again, he heard his father’s anthem once more over Horseshoepin’s playing.
‘It is not good enough Ludwig.’
‘Just stick to the lesson.’
‘Stop playing that! It’s silly trash!’
‘Are you trying to get another beating?’
Beethoven tried as hard as he could to the piano parts; it was barely there as if the instrument was too recalling such painful memories. Yet, the voice was meant to be quiet, just like how the world grew increasingly to silence. He already knew the notes of the piano’s soul being played out; he knew that the pianist knew what he was doing. But he just could barely hear it himself.
Several minutes later, the orchestra was onto the last movement of the concerto. The strings trotted up with the piano following behind as if they readying themselves an epic race home. There was some teasing on both sides about who was going to lose. Almost childlike for both soloist and orchestra before a shout of go from the strings and brass that set the whole Philharmonic moving.
However, for Ludwig, who could hear the piano this time now that Frederic was playing loudly, it started to trigger his musical imagination. Taking out one of the scrap papers in his pocket, he thought back to the theme of the first movement of his new symphony in which a canon was being played out. He distracted himself from the rest of the concerto by jotting down the string section.
This time, he didn’t take off his headphones but listened in until he heard the applause from his equine audience to signal that the first half was over.
“That was quick,” he commented to himself as he took off his headphones and pulled out the magic scroll. Curious as to what his audience had to say.
Stats
Page generated in 0.037 seconds
Total duration
689 users online
1,034,505 hits today, 2,280,440 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
I thought the cover art was the Joker at first.
7533218 Git Gud.
7533344 I don't play Dark Souls.
Also, it's spelled, 'get good'.
But hey, we all struggle in the ninth grade, right?
7533364 woah I just got wrecked. Not sure how to feel about that, Is it a disappointment, or an achievement?
7533365 Who wrecked you? Who hurt you? Can I help in any way?
7533376 Yeah ok I know when I've lost. Good game.
7533380 What? What do you mean? If someone hurt you, then let me be a good Samaritan and help out. I don't know what I could actually do but maybe I could talk to the person if they are online or something. Nobody should be bullied online.
Send me a message if you need someone to talk to. I'll help you as best I can.
7533387 that'd be nice, If you wanted to talk that''d be fine, but nobody that I know has attacked me recently.
7533396 Okay then. If you are sure.
But remember - nobody should suffer in silence. There's people you can always talk to for advice, okay?
Be strong, dude. Tell them bullying scrubs to get good or get gone, my good sir.
(salutes you, cries manly tear as British and American flag flies in the background)
7533408 *lets out manly cry of manliness* Ok bro, I'll stand strong for all of those sad, sad people, who have to deal with such an unfortunate thing.
*a Bald Eagle and a Barbary lion run/fly of into the distance*
7533445
(bulge starts to appear in my underpants)
THINK OF A COLD SHOWER! THINK OF A COLD SHOWER! IT'S NOT THAT AWESOME!
I never thought I'd talk about a bulge on a story about Beethoven of all things.
7533445
7533454
What nationality is the barbary lion? Australia?
This is a good chapter. It came out well.
7533454 Well... stuff happens.
7534421 It's the UK national animal I think.
I just realized that Frederic horseshoepin is a play on words of Frederic Chopin
The fact that Blueblood has this title just makes it more hilarious. Let's be honest, he would be the one to pull an "anointed by God" excuse for his behavior.