Crescendo and Metail
What day is it?
Octavia groaned as a bird warbled somewhere nearby. Her head throbbed like somepony had been hitting baseballs at her, and her throat was sore. She needed a hot bath, she thought dimly. A hot bath, a cool towel on her forehead, and something for the pounding in her head. It was like a timpanist had set up a performance just inside her skull.
She flopped over and inched her eyes open, then immediately shut them as sunlight streamed in and proceeded to set fire to her brain. Muttering something inarticulate, she groped for the sheets and tugged them over her face, safely burrowing under cover of darkness and blankets. She wished the day were cloudy. Or that Luna had canceled daytime for some reason.
Come on… she grumbled to herself. I am the Court Musician. I’m not some foal who is reluctant to rise for school. I always rise promptly. I will get up in five… four…
It actually took closer to a count of twenty, but Octavia did manage to force herself to sit up and open her eyes. Blinking a few times until they adjusted to the light, she managed to take stock of her situation.
She was in her quarters in the castle. Judging from the position of the sun in her window, it was just past two in the afternoon. Octavia got up and stumbled through her bedroom to her living room/work area/vestibule, and saw a very small pile of mail on the floor by her front door. It was probably the day after the concert, she concluded, or she would have had more mail. Good. She had felt so weird upon awakening that she wouldn’t have been surprised to realize that multiple days had passed.
Flipping through the letters, she was relieved to see that she hadn’t missed anything urgent. There were just the usual requests for concerts from nobles and other ponies in the Court; a soiree that Fancy Pants was hosting, a tea party for Duchess Posey, that kind of thing. Octavia put those in a pile and carried them to her desk; she’d need to sort out the concerts she could perform at from the ones during which she already had prior appointments. Of course, since Luna was supposed to be back in the city that day, Octavia would also be playing at the setting of the sun/rising of the moon that night, and the reverse the next day, but the first of those wasn’t for several hours. She had time to get ready.
Turning back to her bedroom, she noticed a small card on her dresser. Confused – the castle cleaning staff was not in the habit of leaving notes, and nopony else was allowed into her quarters – she opened it and began to read.
“Octavia: Thanks for coming out to my show. Hope you had as much fun as you looked like you were having. If all Court ponies can rave like you, I want more of them in my audience.” Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle at that, though she was a bit nervous as to what ‘raving’ meant – the whole night was something of a blur. “You seemed out of it at the end, so your friend and I helped you get home. Don’t worry, we got all the piercings and black clothes off of you first, and your friend got you lucid enough to talk to those guys at the castle gate without them thinking you were drunk or something. She said she’d get you to your room and leave this note for you.
“Anyway, I’d like to talk with you later today. Hope I’m not too bold in saying that I impressed you, and I know that you recommend ponies you’re impressed with for concerts and auditions in the Court. Don’t worry about calling ahead; I’m available all day, at the address on the back of this note. Talk to you soon, Thrash Metail.”
Octavia smiled as memories from the prior night returned, triggered by Thrash’s name. The yelling, the screaming, the impromptu dancing… Octavia had never been to a concert like it. She sank onto a sofa, lost in memory. There had been such music… the drums, guitar, and voice, all blending together into a perfect sound…
Another bird warbled, and Octavia realized with a start that forty minutes had passed while she mused about Metail’s concert. Blushing slightly, she got to her hooves and made her way to her desk. She got absorbed in music all the time, of course, it was part of being so sensitive to it, but there was still something different about Metail’s work. When she thought of that music, it wasn’t with an intellectual appreciation for what he was doing. She wasn’t picking apart the melodic and harmonic lines to marvel at how well they came together, or admiring the skill needed to play a particularly virtuosic passage. She was just thinking of the sounds, recalling how they had crashed through her head, and letting herself get swept away in their torrent.
Her gaze drifted back to the note, and she nodded. Metail had said she could just drop by, and she had over four hours before she was due to play for Luna that night. His hotel wasn’t even that far from Canterlot Castle. She could easily go and see him… talk about music… maybe even convince him to play something else for her.
Yes, she thought. That would definitely be a good idea.
“Are you going to see Thrash?”
Octavia turned and smiled at Paperweight. “I wasn't aware you were on a first-name basis with him.”
Paperweight giggled. She was dressed in a sharp black-and-white dress, looking like an energetic and peppy butler. “He likes his fans to call him that. Says he feels stuffy whenever somepony calls him Mr. Metail.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Octavia nodded. “But yes, I am going to see him. He told me that he was interested in playing for the Court.” She held back a chuckle at seeing Paperweight’s grin grow and grow, spreading over her face like her birthday had come over. “Nothing is certain yet,” she cautioned, “But I do hope to broach the subject with him.”
“Good luck!” said Paperweight. “It’d be so amazing if Thrash could play in the Grand Ballroom or something…”
“Perhaps one day,” said Octavia. “By the way, thank you for helping me home last night.”
“Hey, what are friends for? No prob,” she said.
Octavia looked over Paperweight. “I take it that the Viceroy is hosting a party tonight?”
“A dinner. He’s having a few business associates over for salad and pasta; they’re talking about building this big new dam in Latigo. It’s a really big deal – if it goes through, it’ll be one of the biggest dams in Equestria.” She grinned. “This is going to be my first ultra-formal dinner! I’m so excited! I mean, I’m only going to be standing by the Viceroy in case he needs me to run a message to the kitchen, but still!” Her eyes sparkled.
“Good luck,” said Octavia. “Please tell me how it goes.”
“You too!” Paperweight grinned. “Still, though, I wish I could be with you when you see Thrash. He’ll really show them, huh? Playing for the Court and everything!”
“Them?”
“His critics,” Paperweight said. “A lot of the other metal artists don’t like him or his stuff… like, they won’t even go to his shows.”
“Why not?” asked Octavia.
Paperweight shrugged. “Maybe they’re jealous?”
“I would hope they aren’t so petty.” Octavia frowned. While there are a couple nobles who might be willing to take a chance on metal, before recommending him, I need to learn why his critics don’t like him… it’s possible I missed something, due to my unfamiliarity with the genre. I love his music, but I can’t honestly advocate for him unless I know that he truly is the pinnacle of that field. “I don’t suppose you know any of those critics?”
“Well… Crescendo wrote a big letter to Notes on Notes the other day, complaining that they’re covering him too much and not focusing on the ‘good’ artists. Like herself, I guess.”
Octavia nodded. She still had some time, so…
“By any chance, do you know where I can find her?”
The Marvellous Manestro was a medium-sized club on the western edge of Canterlot. It wasn’t as big or as fancy as the Bouncing Bird, but it was still a respectable venue. Crescendo, Paperweight had said, would be playing there for the next few days.
“Still setting up,” said a pony at the door, when Octavia approached. “Concert’s not for an hour.”
“I was hoping to speak with Crescendo before the show. Of course, if she’s busy, I can leave a message and return another time,” said Octavia.
“Uh…” The pony blinked. It didn’t seem like Crescendo got a lot of ponies stopping by to leave messages. “Sure. Who’s the message from?”
“Octavia Philharmonica. Court Musician.”
The pony stared for a moment. “…wait here for a minute, please.”
He disappeared inside for a few minutes. When he came back, his expression was unreadable. “She’ll see you now.”
“Thank you."
Octavia entered the club and began looking around. It was easy to find Crescendo; she was a pegasus with a purple-and-black striped mane, an electric green coat, unusually long wings, and a guitar with a lightning bolt shooting out of it for a cutie mark. She was directing a group of roadies and other technicians to get equipment set up.
“I want the speakers,” she said, in a brisk, Brismane accented-voice, “At perfect thirty-degree intervals around the hall. Mount them with the one-foot brackets. And get me a bass cannon just in front of the stage, aiming at that back window there. Okay?”
“Got it,” said a roadie, as they began to scamper off.
“Perfect.” Crescendo began to smirk. “This is going to be wild…”
Octavia cleared her throat. “Miss Crescendo?”
Crescendo turned. “Just Crescendo… Octavia, right?” She frowned. “What’s the Court Musician doing way out here?”
“I was hoping to talk with you. I see you are busy now, so if you could tell me when you’re available, I would be happy to return later.”
“Talk about what?”
“I want to talk with you about Thrash Metail,” she said.
“That hack? What’s he done now?” Crescnedo paused. “And why do you care? You don’t play that style.”
“No, but I do make recommendations to nobles in the castle for concerts that I cannot perform in. Some of the nobles may be interested in a metal musician, and—“
“And you’re choosing him.” Her gaze was flat. “Seriously? Him?”
“Why don’t you like him?”
“Well, maybe it’s because he’s an incompetent hack who knows exactly one okay song and couldn’t write a new verse or a melodic line if you threatened to sic the Tyrant Sun on him.” Crescendo shook her head. “Nopony who knows anything about music likes him. When he went away a year ago, I thought he’d finally realized that he couldn’t handle it… but then he came back, and now he’s got a legion of idiot fans. ”
Octavia flushed. “I beg your pardon, but I attended his last concert, and I am one of those fans.
Crescendo stared for a moment. “You?”
“Yes.” Octavia struggled to control her temper. “Perhaps he has improved since he ‘went away’ a year ago.”
“I listened to his latest record. Same old stuff.” She turned away. “Look – sorry to be rude, but you don’t know anything about the genre. You recommend him, you’ll be doing a disservice to real metal artists. And I know you probably think we’re all screeching and thumping, but—“
Before Octavia knew what she was doing, she had grabbed Crescendo and spun her around. “Please do not tell me what I think.”
They locked eyes for a moment.
“I attended his show because I wanted to broaden my own horizons. Because I wanted to hear what I had been assured was a fantastic new sound. Because I learn whatever I could from him. And because some nobles in the castle may wish to hear metal, and I would be negligent in my duties if I knew nothing about it.” She took a breath. “It is true that it is not my genre, but I do not dismiss it as mere noise.”
The two stared for a moment longer before Crescendo blushed. “Alright. Sorry. My bad. It’s just… Metail is the worst of what metal has to offer. And yet he’s the one everypony loves. It’s insane.”
“Why do you dislike him?” Octavia said.
“Like I said. He’s just not good – limited repertoire, mediocre technique, completely clueless about what his audience wants -- but he touts himself like he’s the greatest thing ever. And he was always looking for a shortcut to fame, instead of getting good the old fashion way. Didn’t practice much.” She sighed. “But you’re in charge of music recommendations for the castle?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“And right now, he’s your metal artist of choice?”
“I know of none better.”
“Then here.” She opened a folder and took out a couple of tickets. “Promise me you’ll come to my show before actually recommending him. I don’t claim to be the best, but I know I’m better than him, and maybe I can show you what metal’s really about.”
Octavia took the tickets and put them in her saddlebag. “I promise.”
Thrash Metail’s address was one of Canterlot’s ritziest long-term hotels. Located just a block or so from the castle, the Platinum Pony was the accommodation of choice for visiting diplomats and government officials, celebrities, and even the occasional foreign head of state. Octavia had given two performances in the hotel’s ballroom in the past, but she had never stayed there, or visited one of their guests. Thrash must be even more popular than I thought, she mused, To be able to afford this…
Octavia made her way to Thrash’s room and took a moment to straighten her bow tie before knocking. After all, she was there for business, not pleasure. Metail was interested in playing for the Court, and Octavia could make it happen, but to do that, she’d need to find out more about him. Their talk would hopefully be pleasant… and would ideally involve some beautiful music… but it was still a business interview. And Octavia would look her best, to uphold the decorum and honor of the Court.
It wasn’t just a question of skill. Octavia of course loved his music, though she now knew some disagreed, and she would investigate those claims fully. But there was more to playing for the Court than just being good anyway. She had the responsibility to shield the Court from the musicians who could play skillfully but who ripped off their clients, or who auditioned well but grew lazy once they had a contract locked in, or who only cared for playing for the Court so that they could manipulate nobles into voting their way. So she would evaluate Metail, and while she did hope that he would prove worthy, she would still conduct her examination with all the rigor and scrutiny needed to ensure that she could honestly recommend that he perform for the nobility of the Night Court.
It was time. She knocked sharply on the door. A pony within called, “It’s open!” and Octavia walked into the room of Canterlot’s newest music star.
Thrash was sitting back on the bed, idly strumming his black guitar while he rapped at a drum with his telekinesis. He glanced up, then smiled and rose. “Octavia. Hey.”
“Mr. Metail. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me Thrash.” He chuckled. “And come in. Please.”
Metail had a smug look, but Octavia couldn’t fault him for that. He seemed good at what he did; pride was perfectly valid. “Beer?” he asked.
“No thank you,” said Octavia.
Metail shrugged and sat down across from Octavia. “So, what’s up?”
“First, I wanted to tell you that I was impressed by your performance last night,” said Octavia. “While I freely admit I know little of your genre, what I heard was fantastic.”
“Thanks,” said Metail, with the easy grace of a performer who received many compliments. “Glad I could impress such a notable musician as yourself.”
“You mentioned in your note that you were interested in Court performances.”
Metail nodded. “Yeah, I kind of want to get into the castle roster, you know? It’s one thing playing for big crowds, but I guess I want to get up there.” He grinned. “And I know you have some influence in that regard.”
“I do,” said Octavia. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you particularly interested in playing for them? Knowing that would help me determine whom best to recommend you for.”
Metail chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well… no,” said a confused Octavia.
“I mean, you did the same thing, right?” Metail asked. “So I figured you’d already know the reasons.”
“But my reasons would not apply to you.”
Metail frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I want to play for the most discerning audience I can. The nobles of the Night Court are generally very well versed in the kind of music I play. They can appreciate it. Many of them are even themselves trained in an instrument. And Luna especially… she has listened to tens of thousands of years of music. Hers is the best ear I could ever hope to reach. To impress her, to perform in such a way that I can move even her… that was always my dream. But they aren’t familiar with your kind of music. Your current audiences, the critics and aficionados that you play for now, are likely better able to appreciate what it is that you do, and to enjoy it in the way that you mean for it to be enjoyed, than a noble of the Night Court who has never heard a metal song in her life.”
“But you enjoyed it,” said Metail.
“I am continually striving to expand my musical horizons,” said Octavia. “And I am… unusually sensitive to music. It is part of my special talent. But if what you want is an audience that can understand and deeply appreciate your music, I don’t think playing for the Court is the right option, at least for now. In a few years, if metal becomes more mainstream…”
Metail waved that off. “Well, yeah. Guess that’s not quite it then, my bad. But I bet I could do better playing for them than these crowds. Nobles have more money, they make their musicians famous, you know? Nothing wrong with that.”
Octavia took a moment to answer. “Actually, if what you want is to be well-compensated and famous, you would probably do better by remaining where you are. From what I understand, you are one of the most popular musicians in the city right now. You make enough money to be able to afford… well, this room, to begin with. Were I to start recommending you to nobles, many of them would request that you stop performing for venues such as the one you played at last night, as they would see that as tarnishing your – and by extension, their – reputation. Your income would almost certainly decrease. Additionally, as there aren’t that many nobles who would be willing to take a chance on your genre, you would be looking at a fairly restricted pool of clients, at least at first.”
Metail paused, and Octavia frowned. Metail seemed smart enough to realize that his reasons didn’t make sense. Was there some other reason he wanted to perform for the Court that he wasn’t telling her?
“Okay,” said Metail at last, “Why start small? What if my first noble concerts were for some of the bigshots in the Court? They could, I dunno, issue a decree or something that the other nobles should consider me. That takes care of the client pool. And then if they promote me to the public…”
“Such a decree is unlikely,” said Octavia, dryly. “Besides, most of the higher nobles prefer classical music, or works from their respective provinces. The only concerts I could honestly recommend you for would be for nobles whom have more progressive tastes. I know of a few young viscounts and baronets who are interested in such things, and I believe Baron Mounty Max enjoys more modern works—“
“Honestly?” Metail frowned. “I thought you said you liked my music. What would be dishonest about you recommending it to… oh, say, Luna?”
“Because I don’t think she would like it,” said Octavia, a bit surprised by the question. “My job is to provide the music that the Court wishes to listen to, to the best of my ability. I can’t just tell them to hire the artists that I like personally… each performance must be tailored to their own preferences.” She paused, looking at Metail skeptically. Hadn’t Crescendo said that Metail didn’t put much thought into his audiences and their wants? “Or don’t you think that a musician must take his or her clients into account before performing?”
“Of course I do,” said Metail, quickly. He smiled winningly. “It’s just, if those bigshots heard my music, they’d love it. I promise. And you want that, right? You think my work’s good enough to be worthy of that kind of fame?”
“Yes,” began Octavia.
“Well,” said Metail, trotting over to Octavia. “How about this: you tell the high-ranking nobles about this great new artist, but just… don't say I’m metal. Just say that I’m awesome and I deserve to be given a chance. I’ll show up and wow them. Problem solved!”
Octavia had to take a moment to compose herself before answering. “Are you asking me to lie for you?”
“No, not ‘lie,’ just… don't say everything.” Metail’s smile was big and broad. “You think I’m awesome, so just say that I’m great, and don’t tell them anything else about me. Like, it’s a big surprise, right? They’ll listen to you, and—“
“They listen to me,” said Octavia, quietly, “Because I am honest. I am not going to mislead them, even if I would not technically have to state any lies.”
She stood up, glaring at him. “Furthermore. If you are capable of such duplicity now, how am I to know that you would not be dishonest again later? The Courtiers and Princess Luna rely on me, knowing that I will advocate for musicians who are not only skilled, but who can be trusted. Who will not attempt to abuse their position for their own gain.” She scowled. “If you care so little for your audience that you would deceive them into listening to you, I cannot help but think that pleasing the ears of the nobles is not your true goal but that you have some baser purpose – especially as you have given me no sensible answer as to why you would like to play for them.”
The cellist shut her eyes briefly, regretting what she was about to say, but knowing that there was no other honest alternative. “You are an incredible musician, and I consider myself fortunate to have heard your work, but I cannot in good conscience recommend you to the Court. Goodbye.” And she turned for the door.
“What?!” Metail flinched like he’d been slapped. “You mean you’re not going to advocate for me?”
“No.”
“But you – you’ve heard my music! You know how good I am! You can’t do that!”
Octavia frowned. Had Metail never dealt with criticism before? He looked stunned that Octavia was actually refusing to help him. “I can and I will.”
“Well, what if I get really famous anyway? You’ll look bad then, for not noticing me sooner!” Metail snapped, a look of triumph on his face. “In fact, what if ponies find out that you knew about me but didn’t say anything? You’ll look bad!”
Octavia didn’t react to the implied threat, besides to say, “I suppose that is possible.”
Metail looked stunned. Octavia only shook her head. "I do not respond to threats," she said. She turned on her hoof and began to walk out the door.
“Wait!” Metail ran in front of her. He was sweating, Octavia noted, as if stunned. “I – okay, look, I’m sorry. I panicked. Please forgive me.” He bowed his head.
“I do, but—“
“I have a new song!” he said, hurriedly. “It’s more classical in style. Kind of a… fusion between the two genres. See, I was considering this problem, how to get my music into a more refined area, you know?” He gestured at his guitar. “Let me play it for you. Please.”
“In a hotel?”
“Room’s soundproofed, don’t worry. Please?” he begged.
Octavia paused. She wasn’t going to recommend him, so she didn’t want to waste either of their time, but…
I admit it – I want to hear it. I want to hear his music.
She battled it out with herself for several seconds, but her interest in music won out. She sat down again. “I should caution you that I doubt this will change my mind.”
Metail waved this off. “You’ll love this – I promise,” he said, and he started to play.
And it was as if all of Octavia’s objections, her newfound dislike for Metail, everything, was just washed away in an ocean of sound, a blast of drums and a furious guitar that blasted through everything in their path…
It was later. How much later, Octavia didn’t know. The sun was still up, but that was about all she knew.
“Fantastic,” she murmured. “So beautiful…”
She’d fallen on the ground at some point, unable to keep her balance on the chair under the torrent of notes. She blinked weakly up at Metail. “Why’d you stop?”
“I’d hate for you to miss your appointment with Luna,” said Metail. “Especially since you’re going to tell her how great I am.”
“I am?” she managed.
“Yes.” He helped her up. “After all, wasn’t that the best music you ever heard?”
“Uh huh…”
“And it’s your job to tell Luna and all the higher nobles about good music, right?”
Octavia nodded.
“So you’ll tell them about me.” He grinned and helped her to his door.
“But I don’t know what to say,” managed Octavia. “I don’t understand…”
“Just say I’m great. They can take it from there. Don't worry your pretty little head about trying to understand it, okay?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. They’ll love me. I promise.”
When she was gone, he flopped back on his bed and sighed. “Close one,” he muttered. “She’s a tough cookie, that’s for sure. But… in the end, they all love me.”
He grinned. “Every last one of them.”
Octavia hurried home, needing to beat the sun to the horizon so that she could play for Luna.
Her head was pounding again. She felt oddly weak. What was going on? His music was so beautiful, but… why was she so strangely reluctant to recommend him? She should be shouting his praises to the rooftops. Wasn’t that the honest thing to do?
But she kept feeling like she was forgetting something. Not just Crescendo’s complaints, but something else. Had he said something she didn’t like? But even if he had, how could any faux pas of that nature compare to such glorious music? Surely that kind of music made everything else irrelevant.
But that was the other thing. She kept thinking of how to talk about the music to Luna, how to beg the Princess to consider having him play for her, but she couldn’t even think of what to say. His music was gorgeous, yes, clearly musicians like Crescendo were just jealous… but what made it gorgeous? She tried to figure out what to say to Luna, and drew a blank each time. There were drums, and guitar, and… and…
What’s wrong with me? This is supposed to be my job! Am I so incompetent that I can’t describe his music? Am I such a novice that all I can say is that it ‘sounds good?’
And yes, he’d told her not to try to think about his music too hard, but that wasn’t who she was. She couldn’t do that. (And wouldn’t she normally be furious at such a comment? But why wasn’t she?)
I don’t know what to do or say, I’m letting down Metail and Luna and I’m screwing up and—
She paused. She was familiar with such thoughts… she’d had them before. Thoughts of horrific inadequacy, of being a worthless failure. They were wrong then, and they were wrong now.
She took a deep breath. “I am Octavia Philharmonica,” she stated. “I am Luna’s musician. She, who knows more of music than any other pony in Equestria, who has heard a million songs and innumerable musicians, has decided that I merit such a post. She believes in me.” Her eyes narrowed. “My friends believe in me. And I believe in myself too. I know how good I am. I know that I alone played the Symphony for Moon and Sun, that my technique, skill, and knowledge of music is beyond compare. I am good at what I do. I will figure this out.”
She nodded sharply. “If Metail’s music is good, I will find a way to describe it. I will dissect it and present it to Luna, her nobles and ministers, and all Equestria in such a way that they will all listen to him. I will do my duty in supporting a great new artist in this nation.
“And… and if there is somehow something wrong with it, or Metail, I will find that out too. I will find that out and I will do what I can to block Metail from playing for the nobles and the princess. I will do my duty in protecting the Court from bad or immoral musicians.”
She gazed at the castle with new resolution, and quickened her steps. Sunset approached, and she had an obligation to play for Luna.
And, as always, Octavia would not let her Princess down.
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I like Crescendo. She's cool. (And hopefully the name isn't already taken by a Daughter of Discord or something; if it is and I forgot, ping me and I'll change it).
Metail's kind of a jerk, I guess. Although he should have known better than to try to get Octavia to help him with lies. Honesty's kind of her thing. Well, that and awesome music.
And I really like Octavia's reaction at the very end there. She just got blasted with multiple hours of whatever it is Metail is doing... and she's still all, "Yeah, I'm gonna get to the bottom of this." She's a tough one.
heh. Hypnotic music. Nice.
Ooh...Metail's an evil bard! Awesome!
1756705
the real question is whether or not he is spoony as well
Spoony's an elitist self-aggrandizing deluded ass... So yeah seems like a good characterization to give for this guy.
Anyway, really interesting story. Odd how the mind control seems to be working. Would've thought it was a little more something to do with the crowds, though if there is a draining of energy angle that's really quite interesting indeed. Overall quite a well written story with a lot more ground to cover and an interesting story backing then whole thing up. Thanks very much for sharing and can't wait to read the more.
1756788 I thought he'd be more forky.
Anyway, wow. He is seriously messing with Octy, here. Although I do agree with Crescendo's views on Octavia, how high she's got her muzzle in the air sometimes.
1757416
.....seriously? You do know the reference, right?
1757433 Yes, I know the reference. I was making a joke.
Badass musician is badass, I really love this rendition of Octavia, as well as how resistant she is to Metail's machinations.
I'm guessing this is a reference to her kidnapping in her last story?
rhythmical (music/chant-based) magic always tends to be the most subtle and powerful, but not many can actually pull off describing it.
Alright, I'm going to put my guess out here now, but ROT13 in case I turn out to be right and it's a spoiler: Guenfu Zrgnvy vf hfvat gur nyvpbea nzhyrg.
You've written Octavia's integrity and discipline very well here, and it's such a sharp contrast when she loses it. It's a clear demonstration that something's going very wrong. She makes a very good point about the difference between "I think Thrash Metail is a good musician" and "I should recommend Thrash Metail to Luna and the Court". Thrash really doesn't know what it takes to be a successful musician, does he? He's been thrust into the heights of musical fame without working his way up the way a normal musician would, and he doesn't understand what he's supposed to do now.
Uh, oh.
Octavia, don't listen! 
Anyway, another good chapter. I like Octavia's integrity, and Metail is becoming more and more ominous. I guess I don't have any thoughts on Crescendo yet, but I guess we'll see what happens. It would be awful, though, if Octavia, without the creepy brainwashing stuff, viewed Crescendo's music objectively and didn't like it, and that furthered her impression that Metail is actually good at the genre.
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a dam."
...
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...
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Sorry, couldn't resist. Thought it was a dam shame no one took advantage of it.
1756705: I love the idea of magic, particularly mental magic, crossed with music. Music is already a way to influence emotions, adding magic just makes things more awesome.
1757211: Glad you're enjoying it! And I'm also glad that Metail's characterization is working well for you.
1757416: Well, when she spends all her time focusing on the embodiment of the moon, I suppose it's only natural that she'd have her head in the clouds. :-)
1757542: Yes. Glad you appreciate Octavia's characterization as well.
1758088: No comment on the ROT13 stuff. :-) But yes, that's what I'm going for with Octavia. She loves his music, but she has too much integrity to recommend him based on that alone... and yeah, Thrash doesn't know how to deal with things like this. Not that he won't try, of course.
1758533: Glad you're enjoying it!
1758732: *badum-tish*
Well, Metail sure itrouble. I wonder why Crescendo is immune to his mind-affecting.
1762169: Stay tuned to find out! :-)
(Actually, there've been a couple of hints in the story already that it could probably already be deduced, but I'll spell it out more explicitly in a later chapter).
¿First name? ¿Last name? ¿Familial name? ¿Personal name? Pony names are very irregular. Most pony-names are unique. When names run in families, they are just as likely to have the familial name as a prefix such as Twilight Velvet and Twilight Sparkle or AppleJack and AppleBloom as the familial name as a suffix such as Inkamena Pie and Blinkamena Pie.
1755968 Your Octavia is, in fact, awesome, with a will of steel... Or at least is "Faithful and Strong", if you know what I mean.