Inverno’s Opus in A Minor

by CrackedInkWell

27: Reality Check in C minor

The past several weeks for Braeburn were good. More than that even. Ever since that strange incident with one of his farmhooves, things have been looking up. With the apples seemed to have grown overnight, the farmer has found the means to keep his workers busy and to get a hefty profit as well. Since he was able to sell his crop ahead of season, Appaloosa quickly bought them out.

Whatever the pony that claimed to be Beethooven had done, it certainly improved the apples. In the past several days, Braeburn was getting compliments of how large and sweet the fruit has been. Even despite the price had slightly increased, it didn’t matter to the town’s folk as they just wanted more of it.

By the end of the day, Braeburn felt good about himself. So much so, that there was a skip to his step when he entered the Salt Lick.

“Howdy Brae,” the barpony behind the counter greeted him, “the usual?”

“Yep!” he sat down at the bar. “Today’s been really good so Ah want ta top it off with a drink.”

“Oh yeah?” the barpony took out a bottle of apple cider and pulled out a glass. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Everything alright?”

“Better than that!” Braeburn smiled. “Had a welcomin’ surprise lately that… well… Ah don’t have ta close the farm.”

“Well, that is worth celebrating,” he started pouring the golden liquid into the glass. “Congrats on that. So how did you get enough money this quickly?”

“Ya know the fella that thinks he Beethooven? Well, Ah don’t know what he did but somehow, he got mah trees to blossom and grew fruit overnight. Wouldn’t believe it if Ah didn’t see it happen mahself.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” Braeburn drink in a mouthful of the cider. “Ah call it a real-life saver. Not only Ah can keep and pay mah farmhooves, but even give ‘em a raise too. Ah swear that every barrel Ah brin’ ta the market gets cleared out under an hour. Maybe less than that. Sure, Ah may have ta raise prices a tad since they’re the only apples in town, but nopony’s complain’ cause of how good they are.”

“I see,” the barpony nodded. “I suppose you’ve already said thanks to Beethooven yet, have you?”

“With all that’s been goin’ on, haven’t got around to it yet.”

“Or you could do it now,” he pointed, “he’s still sitting over by the corner over there.”

Looking over his shoulder, Braeburn spotted the signature wild-mane stallion. Beethooven sat there with a mug, a pot pie, and scribbling away on a notepad. He was so preoccupied with whatever he was working on that he seemed blissfully unaware of whatever was going on around him.

Getting up with the glass in his hoof, Braeburn went over to Beethooven. “What ya got there?” He asked, taking a seat across from him.

“Finally putting to paper what has been on my mind for the past few days,” Beethooven replied without looking up.

Braeburn saw a sketch of sheet music that, although upside-down, he saw something that was messy-looking and complicated. Whatever the pony was working on, it seemed he was doing all of this in a hurry. As if in fear that if he doesn’t jot whatever he had in mind down that he’s gonna forget it.

“Uh-huh,” Braeburn took a sip of his cider. “So besides… whatever it is yer doin’, how ya been lately?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged, “Besides the fact ya work fer me, Ah’m just curious ta know how ya been holdin’ up so far.”

“Things are getting better, I suppose,” Beethooven said, drawing up another set of lines and quickly scribbling the clef and key signatures. “Now that I have a room just above the Salt Lick, and a supply of food, drink, and money, I can plan out my future.”

“Oh yeah?” Braeburn took another sip. “What do ya have in mind, partner?”

Beethooven looked up for the first time, “Have I not make that clear? I’m trying to do all I can to get back home to Whinnyana. Did I ever mention that I want to know what happened to my nephew?”

“Kinda, sorta,” Braeburn waved a hoof. “But still, goin’ all the way there – even fer a one-way trip is… pretty expensive ta say the least.”

“Which is why I have been saving up. Even I’m taking into account the supplies and such I would need for such a journey.”

“Sure…” for a moment, Braeburn fell silent and contemplated a bit over another mouthful of cider. “But Ah do have one question though. Let’s suppose ya did get over to Whinnyana and ya find out what yer nephew’s been up ta. So… What are ya gonna do then?”

“Pardon?”

“Ah mean, even if you get there, what are plannin’ on doin’ as a job? Have ya thought of it that far?”

“Of course, I have,” he set his pencil down. “When I get home, I’m going to go back to doing what I’ve always done. Be a freelance musician and composer. Now that I have my hearing back, I could become the virtuoso I once was. My skills at the fortepiano are legendary.”

“Uh-huh… But are ya sure that’s a good idea though?”

Beethooven raised an eyebrow, “What are you implying?”

Breathing in deeply, Braeburn set his glass down. “Before Ah say anythin’, just know that Ah’m gonna be blunt because as nutty as Ah think yer are, Ah think you’re a decent enough fella. So don’t think what Ah’m gonna say is ta discourage ya, but give ya a reality check. Now with that said…” He breathes in deeply again, “even if you’re really Beethooven, and ya expect ta get any money from the way ya used ta do all those hundreds of years ago… ya gonna end up dirt poor.”

Beethooven was taken aback at this statement. “Why? In my time-”

“Exactly,” Braeburn interrupted. “That kind of music was popular… several centuries ago. Ya are aware of how much things have changed since Beethooven, right? Ah’m not just talkin’ in terms of technology or politics but culturally, things have changed. Music alone has changed drastically now. Ah mean sure, Beethooven is still remembered but if Ah’m bein’ honest here… There are very few that listen ta classical now. With the exception of those upper-class, snooty snobs, or old folks, or the occasional foal that would play classical at a recital – ya don’t have much of an audience.”

“What? Are you saying that society as a whole has gotten dumber?”

Braeburn shook his head, “No, more tired. Look, why has it taken ya this long ta sit down and write… whatever it is yer writin’?”

“Because I was busy working hard.”

He nodded, “Exhaustin’ work, and that’s part of the key here. Ponies are now workin’ their flanks off more than at the time of Beethooven. Ah don’t know if ya noticed, but there was an industrial revolution where lots and lots of ponies were sent ta work ta earn a livin’. Even now, despite the limit of bein’ eight hours a day, and even then some ponies have more than one job jus’ ta pay the bills so really, most tend ta work sixteen at most… At the end of the day, they’re jus’ flat out tired. Why do ya think most popular songs are less than five minutes? Fer some, they jus’ have barely enough time ta sleep, eat and work.

“That,” Braeburn continued, “and unlike back then, we have more choices in what we want ta be entertained by now more than ever. There’s almost always a bunch of new stuff being made every day that everyone wants ta try. It doesn’t matter if it’s good, just that it’s new.”

Beethooven slumped in his seat. “So you’re telling me that there’s no hope, is that right?”

“Now hang on, that’s not what Ah’m sayin’ at all. In a world like this, ya jus’ need ta adapt is all.” Braeburn took another sip of his cider. “Ya know… if Beethooven were alive today, as in if he wrote the same stuff as he did back then… maybe… Ah can see ‘em as one of those film composers.”

“Film?” Beethooven tilted his head.

“Ya know, movies and such. Just writin’ music ta whatever is playin’ on a screen. Maybe he would write the kind of music that would make whatever scene be so movin’. Ah mean, if yer on the same level as he was… Who knows, maybe there ya have a better future. If it’s good enough, ya can have those movies be set to an orchestra or what have ya. Besides, if ya did go down that route, ya would have a much wider audience. Not just ta watch the movies but listen ta it as well.”

Beethooven sat there in a contemplating mood. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself – Braeburn did have a point. He was in a new world. Of course, the tastes of ponies have changed over time. Yet, even with music as he knew it has been dying, then if what this yellow stallion was saying is true… perhaps there was a way he could adapt. Sure, he didn’t know what the words “film” and “movie” were, but if it was still a way for his new music to be heard… “And where would I go to do this?” He asked.

“Where a good chunk of all movies is made, of course. In Applewood. Ah can guarantee that it’s a much shorter train ride than goin’ all the way ta Whinnyana. Which, if ya ask me, might be the smartest choice.”

“You think I might succeed better there?”

“If yer any good.” Braeburn got up, “Ah heard the pay is pretty good as there’s few that could do it. So who knows? Maybe ya might become the next Beethooven for the movies. So if you’re seriously thinkin’ of goin’ ta Applewood,” he grabbed his glass, “ya might have enough bits fer the trip. But that’s jus’ mah opinion though. Ah won’t tell ya that ya should do it, but it is somethin’ ta consider.”

Beethooven fell into silence. So even after Braeburn bid him good night and that he’ll see him at work in the morning, it left the old composer there in thought. The conversation has left him wondering if going back home would even be an option. Even if he was still remembered, what was he expecting to go back to Whinnyana? He didn’t have that much bits to even rent a home there. What if it was true that tastes had changed? What would be the point of composing those piano sonatas, string quartets, concertos, and symphonies now if hardly anyone hardly listens to them anymore? How could he expect to get patronage for something that some have seen as old fashion?

Besides… as dark of a thought as it was… he had come to realize that everyone he once knew and cared for from his close friends to his nephew is by now in a grave somewhere. As far as he knew, he is the only one of his time still alive. Going back to his beloved Whinnyana would be in a sense, pointless. As he had no one he knew there.

‘Perhaps…’ he wondered to himself as he finally turned his attention to his now cold pie. ‘I could find better fortune in Applewood.’

Comments

[Moonlight Tome]

Well! It seems we may have a meeting between Tchaicoltsky and Beethooven! I look forward to that! And if Beethooven does start making film scores, I expect he would either likely become very popular very quick, or else fade completely into obscurity.

.... Film scoring can be incredibly thankless sometimes. Not speaking from experience.

[Moonlight Tome]

Also, quick question, probably will be a yes: have you heard anything from Stephen Sondheim?

[CrackedInkWell]

10795878
Sondheim? The name rings a bell.

[Moonlight Tome]

10795984
Stephen Sondheim is a musical theatre composer most famous for his scores for Sweeney Todd, Company, Merrily We Roll Along, and Into the Woods. Does that sound familiar?

[CrackedInkWell]

10795996
Sweeney Todd and Into the Woods, I’m more familiar with those.

[Moonlight Tome]

10796025
The main reason I ask is...... I get the feeing that the classical composers would either be impressed with his musical work, or absolutely hate him.

[CrackedInkWell]

10796608
I guess it might depend on the composer. When it comes to Into the Woods, especially when it tries to juggle a ton of characters and stories where lite-motifs are a necessity, it seems like a nod to Wagner. But as to how the other twelve composers in this story may think of it... now, this is only a guess on my part, but here's how I think they might react to Into the Woods.

Lully, Vivaldi, and Bach would be off-put by the whole thing based on the fact that it's based on fairytales.

Mozart might have found the play fascinating, both on a story and musical level. Remember, this is the composer that came up with The Magic Flute, which I personally consider it as the first true musical in history where the music is mixed with dialogue. While some parts of the music would raise a few eyebrows from him, he would still find it intruiging.

Beethoven being Beethoven, he might say to Soundhime the same thing about Rossini: "I like your opera - I think I will put it to music."

Schubert would have fallen in love with the second act.

While I don't know about Chopin, for some reason I think he would have made a piano arrangement based on the song "Stay With Me."

Liszt would have been impressed in how despite all the stuff going on, that we can still comprehend it all thanks to part of the musical cues that are sprinkled throughout.

Tchaikovsky, I think, might find the fairy-tale aspect charming - even probably get a laugh with the jokes referring to Sleeping Beauty.

Mahler would probably find it okay, maybe room for improvement but alright.

And Debussy might have found it old fashion since he was trying to give France a musical identity of its own so the play he might not have cared for that much.

[Tiber Septim II]

10796924
We are still waiting for the next chapter.

[CrackedInkWell]

11050141
There is a reason why I put this story on hiatus. Namely because there are currently several different other stuff that I have been dealing with lately. This includes real life, university classes with assignments, and having to juggle not just one but two people with different projects all at the same time. It’s gotten to the point where it’s next to impossible to even tackle stories like this when I got other people wanting my attention.

[Tiber Septim II]

11050150
We hope you might get back to continuing the story if you have the time.