The Second Life of Moztrot

by CrackedInkWell

Chapter 14: Music Festival (Part 2)

I will never forget the first time I stepped out of that opera house and into the festival itself. All around was a carnival dedicated to the creation, performance, and playing of music. There were booths and stages as far as the eye could see; there wasn’t a single space that wasn’t filled with a shop of some kind. A booth that sold nothing but flutes here, a tempting array of hard candies shaped like musical notes there, a stage where a pony was singing up in front, and an improvised drinking song from behind. Not only did the sounds of every shape and description fog up the air, but the scents of sugary cinnamon, alcohol, frying oil, hot cakes, cold syrups, and roasted corn were everywhere. I remember it being so colorful, too; crammed between the crystal structures were banners advertising sales and strings of round paper lanterns.

At that moment, I felt like a little colt again.

“Sir,” my cook asked, “What exactly do you want to do now?”

I daresay that a better question was what I didn’t want to do. “Such a busy place,” I commented, “I don’t know where to start.”

“What’s that over there,” the maid pointed over to a mob that was outside of a tavern that I was sure I hadn’t been in before. Without another word, my three servants followed me as I gravitated towards it. As we got closer, the louder the sound of a piano became. It was in a style that I didn’t recognize, roaring one moment, whispering the next. We forced our way through the crowd just to see what was going on, I even had to crawl underneath everypony’s legs just to get inside until I saw the main attraction. There was a dark blue stallion at a keyboard with a chalkboard sign leaning up against the instrument: “Beethoven’s Sonatas Played from memory. 5 Bits.” And on top of the piano was a hat that no doubt held the coins.

By the time I got over there, he already played out the final, earth-shattering chords before the audience around me applauded, nearly stomping me in the process. “Hey! Watch where you’re stomping!” I cried out. Thankfully the ponies above me took notice and cleared away, let me get up.

“Hey, it’s Moztrot,” someone said and instantly I was swamped by ponies that wanted to shake my hoof.

“Give him some space!” my butler belted out, taking a stand between me and everyone else. “There’s no need to mob him.”

“Well, Ah’ll be,” I heard the pianist say as he turned around to look at me. “Mr. Moztrot himself! Great ta have ya here, that concerto was perfect indeed.”

I blinked at the foreign accent, “And you are?”

“Name’s Photo sir. Photographic Retention. Ah’m here ta play out all thirty-two piano sonatas by Beethoven completely from memory.”

This piqued my interest, “So you can play music after hearing it once, I take it?”

He shrugged, “More like lookin’ at sheet music once and it sticks ta me.”

“Well in that case,” I took out a few bits from my pocket and tossed it up to the hat. “I’m dying to hear what everypony has been raving about.”

The pianist smiled, “Pick a number from one ta thirty-two.”

So I did, “Twenty-nine.”

“Ohh! The Hammerklavier. Now pick a number between one and five.”

“One.”

Swinging over towards the keyboard, he stretched and twisted his forehooves overhead, “Sonata twenty-nine, first movement comin’ up.”

Before he could start note of it, my plot was already on the ground. Sitting there in anticipation of hearing what this obviously influential composer had contributed to Equestria. I listened to the opening bars of a triumphant fanfare. What followed immediately, however, puzzled me. In particular the structure of it; indeed had the main theme and variations, but… to my ears, it was confusing as if it had broken the rules of music while at the same time following them. Instead of a structured theme, variations and a closing with the original theme, what I heard came out at random. One moment I would hear the memorable triumphant notes, the next would be a variation, then back again, then five different variations, and suddenly back to the main theme once more. With the variations themselves, I couldn’t find anything wrong with them as they explored different ways of expression. Going from soft to loud with every other bar, even hopping from the lower register to the higher and back again. Oh, there was passion, no doubt about it. I heard enough cleverness and spice that could easily rival my own. What I heard that day was not a sonata – it was something else entirely, only I didn’t know what. A whole new species of music that is untamed, yet it works on its own terms.

Never had I encountered a piece of music which shouldn’t by any means of the imagination work, and yet, somehow did. But I couldn’t figure out how.

Just… how?

Several minutes and a seemingly unfinished ending later, the crowd around him cheered while I politely applauded. After telling him that was good, I left. The butler, cook, and maid came out with me to the open air.

“So,” Mr. Sauté asked, “What did you think?”

“Hm? I thought it was good…” I trailed off, and the three of them noticed.

“But…?” the maid raised an eyebrow.

“Really, it was clever what I heard. Only…” now that I was trapped, I might as well be honest with them. “I don’t really get it.”

“Was it that bad?” Wilfred wondered.

“No. And that is precisely it. I didn’t hate it, because it certainly wasn’t boring. But I don’t know if I like it either because… it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”

All three jaws dropped. “What?” all of them said at once.

“What? It was in a style that I’m unfamiliar with. Now come on! Pick your jawbones up off the floor and let’s explore some more.” I was about to move forward when suddenly, an idea struck me. “Hold on! I just realized that I don’t know any of your favorite music.”
Once they’d managed to recover themselves, the three of them looked at one another. “Well,” the maid said. “I do like the soundtracks of movies, especially the newer ones that had come out over the…” she took noticed of my blank expression. “Oh, a movie is a motion picture, a method of telling stories on a screen.”

“Like a magic lantern show?”

“Something like that, only better.”

I turned to my cook, “And you?”

“Apart of the stuff you’ve written,” he said. “I also have this… guilty pleasure in electronic music, particularly from DJ Pon3 who does remixes of popular tunes.”

“I have no idea what you just said but I’m curious as to how music can be played by electricity.” Then I turned to my butler, “What about you?”

He shrugged, “It depends on what I’m in the mood for. Could be jazz one day or some folk the next, whatever I’m in the mood for.”

“What are you in the mood for today?”

He tapped his chin in thought, “Some rock would be nice.”

I blinked, “I don’t know how you can play music using rocks but I’m interested!” Turning around again, telling them that for today, we have a quest to seek out their music in the festival before the day is out.

---

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find my maid’s taste in music. (Although, I confess that we had some delays as I was buying anything of interest in sight, such as a shirt that had a picture of a snowflake made out of eight quarter notes; an oil cake in the shape of a whole note; and buying every instrument from flutes to small guitars in sight.) After asking around from ponies who wanted me to sign my name on everything from copies of my music to their flanks, we managed to locate a concert which was performing this “soundtrack” music.

As it turned out, they were playing in a park. A full orchestra crammed among the trees, bushes, and the crowds that stood around to listen. By the time we arrived, they were making a great deal of noise before rushing towards a mighty crescendo, thus giving their audience leave to applaud. The four of us found our way towards the shade of a tree, as the mare that conducted turned around and bowed to the crowd.

When the cheers of approval died down, she announced: “Thank you, our next piece is Master Cherry’s Suite. The themes you’ll be hearing are from the movie, Kung Fu Bunny.”

“Oh I love that one!” the maid smiled excitedly. “The part where Cherry says goodbye was so tear-jerking.”

“Ah yes,” I replied, “I’ll just smile and nod like an idiot and pretend like I know what you’re talking about.”

“Remind me to show you the motion picture when we get back,” my butler advised me.

Before I knew it, the piece had begun – a soft humming of strings before the opening theme of a piano. The melody was of an agonizing beauty and melancholic tone, with unusual harmonies that swelled with emotion. Not even the most tragic of operas could come close to what I heard. There was a sense of tragedy, no doubt, but at the same time an honorable refusal to accept one’s fate. Even the solo cellist added the color of grace, with melodic strings bringing the momentum up to a crescendo. Rarely did I ever find a sound as if the whole orchestra was crying genuine tears. In its unusual harmonies, there was that passion in the opening movement.

Almost immediately, it was followed by uneasy violins going at a presto pace before a burst of brass and bells. Repeating the opening theme for a heroic touch before the cello and piano suddenly slowed its temper. Just like Beethoven, the idea was used in a variety of ways. Letting the orchestra explore different tones and colors on this one theme alone! As I listen to this short suite, I began to notice that the ghost of Beethoven was haunting this music. Yes. This untamed but masterful passion was drifting overhead. To me, it was almost as if this composer had a passionate spirit looking over his shoulder the whole time. Even with the interesting uses of new instruments that I had never seen before, that passionate but strong discipline was there.

Even the audience was under the composer’s spell as I saw my maid tear up, especially at that tremendous end when a small choir unleashed everything they had. At the same time, I was getting a few ideas of my own.

As soon as the piece had concluded with the reprise of the opening theme, and the audience had given them the applause they deserved, I wove my way through the crowd towards the conductor.

“That was wonderful,” I said, getting the mare’s attention.

“Mr. Moztrot!” the dandelion yellow mare gasped. “Oh hello there! How long have you been here?”

“Since the start of that suite you’ve played. It was quite moving.”

She blushed, “Oh thank you so much for that. I could say the same for you as well. That concerto was brilliant.”

“Yes, yes, I know, I was there.” I giggled. “Like I said, what I heard was excellent. Tell me, how well connected are you with the other orchestras?”

“Decent I suppose.”

“You see, I want to get it from the source, from your modern orchestras, to get your opinions here. I’m going to hoofpick a new orchestra and choir too, firstly, perform my Requiem. So I want to ask you is: can I borrow your violin and horn sections?”

Comments

[Dan]

He didn't comment on the Erhu. Had he heard one before or did he just mistake it for an oddly-tuned viola or cello?

[Greenhorn]

I blinked, “I don’t know how you can play music using rocks but I’m interested!”

I will let Maud teach you all about 'rock' music!

[Merula]

''Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift. That is why they call it the present''

Wasn't expecting a Kung Fu Panda theme in there to be honest

[Obsidian Ink]

Being in a pirate mood, after reading this chapter, i couldn't help but wonder what he'd think of the soundtrack to Pirates of the Caribbean: curse of the black pearl.