Life is Music
I’m not sure when I love you most.
Is it when you come to my concerts, shocking everypony with your wild blue mane and your boisterous attitude?
You’re always so excited, Vinyl. I don’t know how you do it. You’re always chatting up strangers, including some ponies who’d prefer to remain strangers. The “stuffy” types, as you call them, the ones who come not to hear music but rather to be seen listening to it, are always so uncomfortable around you.
And it’s not because you’re different, per se. At least, not in the way they mean. Whether they realize it or not, I don’t think they’re truly bothered by your mane or your background or the fact that you work in a dance club. If I were so bold as to speculate on the inner workings of the stuffy class — a class with which, I must admit, I’ve had quite a lot of experience — I’d say they don’t like you because you’re real, and you remind them of how fake they are by comparison.
You’re the real thing, Vinyl, and that’s exactly why I love you.
Of course, not all my listeners are so preposterously artificial as the “stuffy” class. (If they were, I might have given up my profession long ago.) There are also those who have always known the beauty of my music. But that too makes me think of you, because in the beginning you didn’t know the first thing about it!
Every other pony I’ve ever known approached me for my music. Even as a filly, I went to a music school. My mother enrolled me on the very same day I was blessed with a cutie mark. The whole world knew me as “that talented filly Octavia”, and they always asked me to perform for them. When I grew up, it became my full-time profession.
I’ve always loved music, but I never imagined that somepony might know me without knowing my music first. We met in a coffee shop. A coffee shop! I don’t even drink coffee. I was only there because I got lost on my way to a recital and I had to ask somepony for directions.
There I was asking the barista if she would be kind enough to draw me a map, when suddenly you were there, offering to take me to the concert hall yourself. Except you didn’t know where it was either, as it turned out, and that remains the only time in my entire career when I’ve actually missed a recital.
But for all that, it was the greatest recital I’ve ever had.
When do I love you most? Maybe it’s when we’re lost together, wandering around like fools just as we did on the day we met. It was our first date, actually. I didn’t even know it was a date. But you did. Somehow you knew, before you even spoke to me you knew, and I will never understand how you did it.
All I knew was that suddenly we were talking and smiling and telling each other about our lives and professions, and you made some reference to “dropping the bass” and I said that would be extremely unprofessional and it was a full twenty minutes before we realized we were talking about two different things, and once we realized the mistake we started laughing like I’d never laughed before.
You put me at ease somehow, without even trying, and I knew I had to see you again.
Wandering about together has become one of our pastimes. Do you have any idea how much wandering I did before I met you? None. I always had...appointments, back then. Lists and maps and schedules and a sense of duty. A sharp, steady metronome, completely predictable and secure. Mother had it all planned out from very early on, and I accepted it all. You don’t improvise when you’re playing a cello. Unless your name is Vinyl Scratch.
When do I love you most? Maybe it was when you actually tried to play a cello on my birthday last year. You had this preposterous little band put together, consisting entirely of ponies from the dance club. Jam Session showed up with a double-necked bass guitar because he didn’t understand the concept of a classical “double bass”.
The lot of you produced the most ridiculous piece of music I have ever heard and I loved it, Celestia help me, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, because it was you.
Or perhaps...come to think of it...perhaps it wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Because I’ve learned that there is music beyond music. Music beyond notes and instruments and long-dead composers. There’s music in your voice, Vinyl. Like when I finish a performance and I meet you in the hall, and you always shout with joy when you see me. You rush up and embrace me like we haven’t talked in ages.
Do you remember when I lost that competition in Canterlot? My bow slipped out of my grasp just as I began the second movement. I scrambled for the bow and finished as best I could, fighting the rising surge of panic, trying not to look at the judges. In the end I was condemned to last place. Last place.
I hid my face when I came to meet you. I was fighting back tears and I didn’t want you to see. I opened the door and I thought perhaps you wouldn’t even be there, perhaps I’d just walk home alone and suddenly you shouted, just as joyful and loving as ever, and I looked up in bewilderment as you rushed through the crowd to meet me, and you held me close and you kissed away my tears, and you whispered “I love you, I love you”, over and over again.
When do I love you most? Maybe it’s on those nights when I visit you at the club, with its thriving, screaming masses. I don’t think I ever could have seen the beauty in it, if you hadn’t been there to guide me. I’ve watched you in your element, hosting wild, wonderful concerts.
But soon enough, Vinyl, I’ll give you the greatest concert of your life.
For once I’ll be the one surprising you...though in another sense it won’t be a surprise at all, will it? The details may be surprising, but in your heart you must know it’s coming, sooner or later. I’m going to get on that stage, my darling. I’m going to take the microphone. I’ll smile, and I’m sure you’ll smile back. And then, with all our friends watching from the dance floor, I will ask you to marry me. And I know what you’ll say.
But that’s for another day. A glorious day, to be sure, but I have so much glory already. I lie here next to you in our bed, your foreleg draped around me, loving me even in sleep. I listen closely to the soft rhythms of our breath, and the tender duet of our heartbeats. There is music beyond music, Vinyl. I know that now, because of you. You and I are parts of the same Song.
When do I love you most? Who can ever know? Ours is a love without measure.
Music is Life, and Life is Music.