Noteworthy on Baker Street
It was a cold evening on Baker Street. Nothing really eventful was happening, though; the shops were all closed, dinner was being served in the flats, and Forelock and Watson were currently out solving a case. Unless one would count one of Canterlot's rising music stars trotting down the street as an event.
Yes, Noteworthy could feel the light in his head building up as he skipped every brick that lined the sidewalk beneath his hooves. Every step he took, he blinked, and the light that shown through the streetlamps briefly blinded him before he regained his vision quickly. He wasn't comfortable with the sensation, but he didn't care, either.
Nah, I'm not going back for more., he thought. I'm tired enough as it is. Might as well visit a friend.
He passed several tall, lined-up flats that made the world at his feet so small. He lived decently and comfortably in one of these flats, but his was a few streets away. As he thought, he was visiting a friend, not taking the Underground back home.
Eventually, he reached the porch of one 310B, the home of another esteemed musician of Canterlot. The difference between him and his friend was esteemed; Noteworthy was only making splashes in the musical scene. He would reach an ideal spot for himself sometime.
He approached the flat's door and loosened his coat. He hoped that Frederic was still up at this hour.
bzzzt
"...Who is it?"
"It's me, Freddy."
"Ah, you sound cold."
The door unlocked, and Noteworthy was inside.
Frederic's flat was decked out as one would expect an revered Canterlot musician would do. No, they didn't live in mansions; somehow, Equestrian pop stars did. Most well-known orchestra members and players lived middle class, one could argue. Frederic's place was neat and organized. His instructional books on notation and style were alphabetized and aligned. His couch and table weren't messy. Noteworthy peered up the stairs to see if Frederic was in his bedroom, but he heard a clink from the kitchen.
"Good day to see your friends, I suppose," announced Frederic as he walked around from the kitchen door.
"Stressful day, actually," replied Noteworthy.
"I'll get a few alcoholic ciders."
Four drinks later, and Noteworthy and Frederic were sitting on the couch relating their most recent concerts and life events.
"Afterwards, I woke up in a Soho doorway and got told by the cops to scram. I didn't recognize them at first."
"Heh, so what did you tell them?" questioned Frederic.
"I was like, 'Who the buck are you?'"
Frederic choked on his cider to stifle a giggle.
"And then they brought you to the station?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got off on a minor misconduct."
"At least you're drinking with a friend now, who will make sure you get home without mouthing off to the police."
Noteworthy wiped his nose. "Heh, yeah. I've been kinda out of it. I've been going to bars and stuff just to deal with myself." He took another swig of his drink and landed it on the table.
Frederic shifted an eyebrow. "So, why come here to drink then?"
"Well, I've got a long explanation to give. I have plenty of reasons to come here. You know I can talk to you and the rest of the Ensemble better than I can with any random pony or fan that walks up to me in a bar."
"Mmhm."
"Well, life hasn't been ideal for me lately." Noteworthy took a deep breath.
"I've been working on an album recently, but the executives have been telling me that it has to come out around Hearth's Warming for the holiday craze. It's obvious that that will boost sales, but I'm also in need of more funding for future concerts at better gigs and all. The executives were as plain and concise about it as possible, but I'm going to stress myself out just working on this whole album. I'm going to need to finish it between October and November for it to be ready for editing and review.
It's kinda stressful, you know. I want to reach the top like where you guys are. I understand that I have a long way to go, and that I'm going to have to give a lot to become like you guys. But it just feels like there's a sort of disconnect between what I've always wanted to do and with what it takes to win."
"So, it's between what you want and what the public wants?"
"Sorta. But it's not really that. What I do doesn't have to change so much; ponies like my work enough so that I'm able to support myself without selling out and all.
It's just that I'm now working almost all the time now. I used to have a bit more time to make music for fun, but now I'm being pressured to make my most emotional, personal and appealing stuff all the time. It's difficult now just to look around at ponies and pull a song out of my head that will be at the top of the chart for this month. That one I did, "Estranged", that was a good song. But that was so personally jarring for me because of how touchy the subject was."
"I won't ask about it."
"Hm, thanks. You know, I still get free time, but now a lot of it is just sitting idly with whatever luxuries are available to me. Sometimes, I might write a good song or two, but most of the time I'm just bored."
"So how can you be so idle if you have time to make your best works?"
Noteworthy paused a second. "I dunno. I've been thinking...the more time you have on your hooves, the less your mind moves. It's like an artist's block or something. You're so busy working, preparing for concerts, press interviews and album creations that you're stuck in this 'busy' loop. You lose the time for personal creativity and you don't get what you want out, or what you believe is your true best."
Frederic merely put on an understanding look. Noteworthy eyed him for a second before continuing.
"I've been looking for a way to be my best without losing the personal success I've been going for. I'm not greedy, I take only about as much as I get and enjoy myself meanwhile. I like seeing people and telling and teaching them music, indirectly and directly. But I'm bored. I don't know what I should write now that I'm becoming well known. The limelight is getting a little...much I guess.
I came to Canterlot to make it. I wanted to be like you guys, and I really appreciate all that you, Octavia, Vinyl and Neon have done for me. I just don't know if-or possibly how you guys find a love for what you do. It's getting to my head and being repetitive. I'm looking for something real, something meaningful to me, I guess."
Noteworthy took another shot. "And there, I'm done ranting."
His friend gave a small smile. "You just get used to it, I guess. Life keeps moving and we're always working.
The Ensemble was like that when we were still students of music. We just accepted that the world around us always wanted our best because that's what it's like being in the limelight. We'll find some small bits of happiness and personal satisfaction here and there, but what we get is usually enough. We're happy with our role in the world.
We're not conforming to anything either; rather, we're giving a lot because what we do is so big. We give concerts to thousands of people now, Noteworthy. Octavia, Harpo, Beauty and I really feel like we're making accomplishments. The results are marvelous." Frederic gave comforting pat to Noteworthy's shoulder. "You'll find something in this."
Noteworthy turned and thought for a second.
"Yeah...I guess I just got to find it." A small, hopeful grin came to his face. "I shouldn't let my work get in the way of what I want to do. I guess I just got to find the time to do it, or find something else worthwhile or interesting that I like and has meaning to me. I can't just succumb to an artist's block. I gotta keep moving like you said, I guess."
Frederic returned his friend's optimism. "Ah, there. You got it."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Noteworthy breathed in the atmosphere around him before moving on to a different topic.
"Well, at least I vent out my problems in a positive manner."
Frederic laughed, "Better than most ponies."
"You little buffalo-turd! I'm going to eat your children!"
"Cranky! Calm down!" Filthy Rich and Thunderlane struggled to hold back their livid friend.
"All you bucks are banned from this establishment! You hear me! Banned!" the owner of the Cream Unicorn yelled.
"I'm going to own your place by the end of this week! It's a damn promise, or my name isn't Trevor Gallops!"
"That's not even your name, Cranky!" Rich pulled Cranky to the closest taxi.
"Shut up, Michael!" Cranky replied, still groggy from the drink.
Thunderlane and Rich sat their inebriated friend up in the carriage. "Take us back to the Rich Mansion, on 33rd and Livingstone's." Rich thought for a moment. "And play something that will soothe our buddy's nerves."
"Sure thing," the driver replied. "A little of Gary Raffer T. oughta do it..."
Author's Note
Somehow, I got myself out of a creative ditch to write about the way I think about things. I like analytical writing, yet I also enjoy prose and fiction. I wrote some stuff before, but the problem was that I couldn't keep myself writing on a consistent schedule. Something like this fits me more, since I can complete it easily and still write something meaningful. I dunno, it means something to me.
Really, these reads are based on some of my favorite songs. They grab a hold on me and influence how I feel and what I write about. I lay those thoughts down on paper (or a word document in this case). You don't need to look far for the first one; heck, I might as well put the name of each one in every chapter title. I'll see.
Merry Christmas to all of you. Expect a few more character studies on Canterlot's musicians.
Credits and Shoutouts: "Michael" and "Trevor" belongs to Rockstar Games.
"Baker Street" belongs to Gerry Rafferty.
Shelock Holmes and Dr. Watson belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
"Who Are You" belongs to Pete Townshend of The Who.
"So, what do you do to deal with all of this?" Noteworthy asked.
"I actually do the same thing as you. Just a little differently." Frederic answered.
"Hey, let me know where you go drinking at then! We can get pissed together and not worry about things!"
"It's not like that, though," Frederic answered. "I don't want to tell you where."
"Come on, man. Sharing loneliness with a friend is better than drinking alone."
"I know. But I don't want ponies to know who I am."
Frederic rarely, if ever, mentioned where he went to his friends when he had free time. He didn't go to bars to drink; he had a different set of gigs to do. Playing piano in bars didn't make the most of money, but it was enough for Frederic when he needed some spare change. Besides, he wasn't playing for the money.
A particular day before Noteworthy came to his house, Frederic visited one of his favorite pubs to perform in. It wasn't in the financial, industrial or middle class districts of Canterlot, however. It was a lonely little bar barely on the outskirts of the city.
Approaching it, one would make an accurate guess of attendance inside the bar. Most of these guesses were 15 or less ponies. Ponies who came here were mainly working ones, ponies from towns on the outskirts of Canterlot who just wanted to find a place to pass the time. This wasn't Frederic's crowd.
Yet this was Frederic's place to play. Everypony there loved his company. He'd play tunes that he'd never play at Canterlot's Concert Hall. All the jazz, classic rock, blues and things his friends showed him would be performed here. Frederic didn't have to be the stoic musician who only held a passion for his work here. This was a place to have a good time, and making it better for others was a fine perk.
The lonely sign swung under the cover of the only light above it; "Trot's Glass". The wind was blowing, and the rain came down in droves. Frederic tightened his coat and hugged himself. He could see the pub only so far off now. Closing the distance, Frederic thought he could hear another act playing from within. He smiled to himself, and stopping at the front door, let himself in.
As usual, Frederic trotted inside and didn't see too many faces. It was a cold night, and most ponies had gone home at around 8. The few ponies who were inside were listening to the last set from the band playing. The young stallions who were often being rowdy in the corner were gone, presumably kicked out by the manager. Frederic stepped around the few empty tables and trotted to the bar.
"Hey, Bill. Good to have you back," the manager stated.
"I always come back, Salt Lick," Frederic replied. "I like you guys too much."
"Well, we always have a spot for you here, Bill. You'll be up in a bit, just let these guys finish their set."
Frederic faced the band on-stage. "Don't think I know them. They well-known locally?"
Salt Lick shifted to look at entertainment roster for the night. "Not really. They just play in the next town over. These guys only come down here to give everybody a good time, like you do." He looked at their faces as they finished their song. "They don't care about being in the limelight."
The singer of the band stepped up to the microphone and announced, "Hey, thanks a lot you guys for letting us come out here. It's always good to get the chance to play out in front of a small audience."
His words were met with silence, as well as cricket noises.
"Well, I'm sure you're all tired, so it's time to hit the hay. Just wanted to let you guys know we are the Monarchs of Movement, and you can catch us at Pendleton Plink's the next town over. You'll see us next week there."
The band began gathering their equipment and unplugging their electronics. Salt Lick looked at Frederic and asked, "You going to need help moving the piano into place?"
"No thanks, I got it."
Salt Lick walked with Frederic anyway to the stage. Frederic could have done it himself, being one who had handled moving instruments all his life, but the manager was insistent and the piano was heavy enough as it was. It was 8:50 when they finished.
It was 9:00. Frederic sat at the piano, staring at the doorway to the place. Any minute now.
The door was pushed inward, and in trotted a peculiar crowd. A well-dressed suit, a sailor, a graveyard shift waitress, several businessponies, and more. It wasn't the opening to a bad joke, either. Still, these ponies were in here for some laughs.
But not just that. They were here for their favorite piano player of the evening.
"Billy! It's great to have you back!" called Sea Muscle.
Frederic smiled. "Always here, Sea Muscle. How's the Equestrian Navy service been?"
"Ah, the usual. No action, just visiting different countries."
"Ah, I see," replied Frederic as he placed his first music sheet on the piano. "How are you doing, Written Script?"
"Great. My novel's still going slow, but I'm also still working."
"Still not dating anypony?"
"Nah, still don't have the time."
"Of course." Frederic "Billy Newcolt" looked over his first piece for the night. It was a familiar one, harkening back to an old cinema favorite. ~~"As Time Goes By"~~. No, Salt told him to never play that song. (He was joking; Frederic was going to play a different one.)
Really, Frederic was going to play "Knock on Wood", because everyone knew it. It was still from the same film, anyway.
"C'mon, Billy! Sing us a song!"
"One of those classics!"
"Play it, Billy!"
Frederic smiled at his excited crowd.
"Alright, ladies and gents. Here goes."
He played through the night with energy and happiness that he'd never show in a real concert. He played favorites such as "Miniature Spinner", "Lunedance", and "I Love Fridays". And then there were the songs for when everyone was stoned, like "Sunday's Not Good for Fights", "Trot of Life", and "Griffornian Rhapsody". Frederic had a fantastic time watching the various patrons get up and hug each other to sing, or to put one another into a neck grab before a small fight broke out. Both events were hilarious to watch.
When everypony wasn't making a drunk chorus/smashing bottles on each others' heads, "Billy" just listened to what they had to say. He knew why they came down here. They were just getting away from the troubles in the road. Frederic remembered almost every story he heard. How Sea Muscle signed up for another 5 years of service, and will probably do again. String Pull's various attitudes on liberal politics in the Equestrian system. Doctor Whooves' probably drunken ramblings about a box, "bigger on the inside" with aliens and monsters. And Thunderlane's bonding issues with his brother which he can never seem to resolve, ever since their mom died and their dad became drunk.
The issues that they had to deal with in life were a barrier to the ideal things they always wanted. Whatever they tried, "Billy's" friends could never get out of the holes they were dug in. It was a vicious cycle of work, conflict and evening drinking for them. The evening drinking did do quite a bit to relieve them, however. They had "Billy" to make them forget. Frederic couldn't have a better group of friends.
And then Sea Muscle walked up to Frederic's jar and placed more bread in it. He said, "Hey Billy, why don't you tell us about what you do? You got a reason to be hiding out here, do you?"
Frederic, who had just finished his second-to-last song for the night, paused and turned to Muscle. "Well, it's just one of my passions."
Muscle laughed. "Hah, nopony gets that good and looks like they're in their 30's. What's the real reason, buddy?"
Frederic offered a grin of inaction.
He came down here for almost the exact same reason they did. Frederic was just running away from the things in his life that didn't go right. His imperfections, his mistakes that he made at recitals in the past, his obsession for perfection in front of critics. His arguments and annoyance with Vinyl, who couldn't help but put a hold on his work when he was busy. The unsuccessful music deals and productions that never got off the ground. The ideal, gentlemanly stallion that he always wanted to be as a colt wasn't there; he felt stoic in front of others, conforming to strictness and professionalism. He couldn't be "Billy" with Canterlot's greats.
And Octavia...
He stopped. He'd never say. He'd never tell. Her.
"I just really like playing music for you guys. You're a great audience."
Muscle said, "Ha! I knew you were a great colt, Billy! Keep pounding away, Piano Colt!"
Sea Muscle trotted down from the stage. Yes, life wasn't all that Frederic wanted it to be. But even though he was running away from his problems, he had some company, too. He didn't have to face the disappointments of life alone.
Life isn't supposed to be all gold, anyway. Frederic knew that sometimes, you just had to work with what you're given. He worked as hard as he could with it. And when he couldn't, he had a place to come back to. Frederic was content with that.
"Alright, gents! Here's one more!" The crowd cheered, and Frederic began with the first 2-note, repeating section of "My Life".
Author's Note
Acknowledgements
"My Life" and "Piano Man" belong to Billy Joel.
"Bohemian Rhapsody" belongs to Queen.
Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.
"Walk of Life", "Sultans of Swing" belong to Mark Knopfler
"Saturday Night's Alright", "Tiny Dancer" belong to Elton John.
"I Don't Like Mondays" belongs to the Boomtown Rats.
"Moondance" belongs to Van Morrison.
