Equestrian Tales

I frown as the new jazz solo I’ve been working on suddenly dissolves into a myriad of scratchy notes I can hardly identify. Oh, working in the upper registers is such a chore, but I’ll have to be able to carry myself if I hope to stay within the bounds of the melody. Frustrated, I take a few moments to relax with a simple D major scale, finishing in mere seconds due to my long years of practice.

I let that last open D ring out, satisfied, before returning to the task at hand. Sighing at what little progress I’ve made, I take a moment to retune before returning to my difficult assignment.

My name is Octavia, and I play the double, standup, string, upright, contrabass viol/bull fiddler. This instrument is not electric in any way, (although you can clip a mike to the bridge just fine) nor is it related to the guitar. I repeat, THIS IS NOT AN ELECTRIC BASS. Thank you. IT IS NOT A CELLO, HARP, VIOLA, LYRE, MANDOLIN, VIOLIN, OR DULCIMER. Although every musician eventually comes to a certain acceptance when it comes to people mistaking your instrument for a different one, it helps that my bass is larger than I am and has a 12 inch metal spike on the bottom when fully extended. It is a very memorable hunk of wood ‘n wires, once you’ve seen it up close.

Now that the standard rant about exactly which instrument this is has been dealt with, we can get to talking about me. You see, I’ve always been a little bit upset about my cutie mark. It’s a treble clef. Now, those of you familiar with music know that there is another clef, called the bass clef. (There’s also an alto clef, but that information is not necessary to understand my argument.) Judging by the way all of your ears perked up, I can tell that you’ve just figured out that I was given the wrong cutie mark by whoever is in charge of cutie mark-giving. You also now know why I am trying to get music off of a higher part of the bass than it was ever meant for anypony to go.

So I sigh, recheck the pencil marks I’ve made on my bass, angle my hoof in just the right way, and begin to play. Or try to, as the G-string suddenly gives under the tension and snaps. I am beyond frustrated. Do you know how difficult it is to break a bass string? They are metal wires, and the E is about the thickness of a pencil, not to mention if the bass has an extension or a couple of extra strings. I was, of course, using my standard 4 string bass, trying, trying to have my bass in the proper register for my cutie mark. And, of course, failing.

Sighing, I quietly place my bass back on its stand and exit my home in Canterlot, headed for Strings, Springs, ‘N Things. It’s really more of a metalworking shop than a music one, but their quality of strings is unparalleled. Besides, I’ve had my eye on a new set of their magic-enhanced strings for earth ponies for some time. I’d always wondered how the unicorns used their horns on their instruments, and it certainly couldn’t hurt to have some extra help, especially higher on the hoofboard where everything is squished together. Thinking that only put me into an even sourer mood, remembering my short-lived time as a violinist. Not a fun memory.

It was in this state of mind that I walked into the medium-sized metal smith shop, scowling and muttering to myself as I searched for the string set I wanted. Then a poster caught my eye- METAL: A Headbanger’s Journey. I giggled at the image; it was a brown unicorn, and he had made the rookie mistake of magnetizing his horn. It looked absolutely ridiculous, and lifted my mood enough to accept that 150 bits for a magical set of strings wasn’t that out of proportion. Everything always costs more when your instrument’s a bass.

Sighing in acceptance that I would probably have to eat some regular grass this week, I was headed towards home when a movement caught the corner of my eye.