The Pianist

Sunday night. A full crowd eagerly awaits for the Equestrian Symphony Orchestra to make their yearly debut with a Manehattan classic: Rhapsody in Blue Hooves, composed by the great George Gershwhinny. I was a part of this great ensemble of Equestria’s finest musicians. There was no one else in the world who they trusted to take the iconic piano part played by the stallion himself one hundred years ago today. I sat in my dressing room with the piece playing loud. I visualized myself playing the riffs and tricky diminished chords. I visualized the full force of the orchestra giving me strength as we blazed as loud and as hard as the bustling streets of young Manehattan. I saw my fingers become a blur as-

Someone pounded on my door, “Gliss!”

“Yes?” I answered quelling the song.

“We’re on in ten!”

“Okay, thank you!” I shouted back. “Here we go…”

~^^^^^~

In post concert interviews people would often ask if I was nervous walking across that vast stage prepared to display my talent to the world. I always gave them a simple yes and jumped in my carriage, but they could never know the feeling of walking across that stage and seeing so many eyes drilling holes into your very soul. Years and years of these concerts and I can never get over the anxiety and the terror of standing in front of a crowd of ten thousand. Yet, nothing could compare the the adrenaline, the rush of playing your soul out to a captive audience. Their thunderous applause and admiration urging you on even after the piece has ended. Though the nerves were ever present, I loved it!

I stood before the mahogany bench, thankfully this one was padded, and adjusted my tux. Once I was set, the conductor raised his wand. No matter how old I was, the way the clarinet snakes to the opening sent pleasurable chills through my body. It was a warm welcome to a calm and subdued opening. Subtle, yet precise. I began just as the brass sprang to life accompanied by the crisp metal hiss of the cymbals crashing and, oh the staggering melody felt like punches knocking you left and right. They left me be to play what most would call a little diddle. Then came what I call the trip. Not only did it take years to master this, but it even took several bananas for the painful cramps that came from past attempts at mastery. I still feel the burning in my forearm whenever I play this beast of a piece.

This wasn’t my favorite composition simply because I slapped that label on it, but by how it made me feel while I played it. Some would say that this is what giving yourself to a lover feels like. Their warmth, the sound of their voice, the frequency of their soul. Every note I played felt like I was doing just that, falling in love a million times as each phrase and measure rolled by. Feeling her heartbeat with the percussion. Becoming lost in her beautiful voice personified by the strings and woodwinds. Feeling her wrath in the brass’ heavy rough tone. I often wondered how I kept my composure on stage with all of these feelings sparking to life inside of me. It wouldn’t be right for the concert’s leading stallion to dance while he played. Of course I couldn’t just sit there. With every forte I struck the piano with passionate anger, and with every piano I would
tickle her tenderly.

Not once did I ever look at the music. I built a stigma that it was disrespectful to do so. Sheet music is merely an instruction manual, the music itself can’t be described on a sheet of paper. Every note memorized was like a child waiting to be birthed by me. I knew of it’s existence, now I only had to bring it to life…

Unfortunately, as soon as we started, the grand finale flowed from our instruments signalling the song to a close. The crowd stood to their hooves bathing us in a sea of thunderous applause and shoutouts.

“Please give a hand for our solo pianist, Glissandi Forte Piano!” I sauntered center stage, a wide smile plastered on my muzzle. Call me a narcissist, but I never get tired of hearing people scream with joy at the mention of my name.

~^^^^^~

The after party was as cordial and stuffy as stuffy Canterlotians can be. I didn’t mind it at all though. The food was good, and the whine a bit heavy plus I didn’t have to pay for a damn thing. Given my upbringing you’d think I’d like rubbing noses with the Equestrian Elite and upper crusts. Well, I’ll be honest. I loved amazing these people with stories of how a poor earth pony rose to be what I am today. They act as if struggle doesn’t beget success, but I digress.

“Excuse me! Excuse me! You there!”

I turned to find a white unicorn approaching with a purple unicorn being pulled by our first chair Cellist.

“Mr. Forte Piano,” the white unicorn spoke, “I absolutely adored your playing. I’ve never seen anyone as skilled as you,” she tittered.

“Thank you, miss…?”

“Oh! Pardon me. Where are my manners? Rarity darling, pleased to meet you.”

“I knew I recognized you!” I said much louder than what I intended. “I am wearing one of your custom tailored suits.”

“Really? Oh my goodness! Do you like it, darling?” she asked with a begging smile.

“It’s sleek, sharp, and very comfy,” I replied taking a gulp of my wine.

“That’s marvelous, I-” the princess jabbed her in the ribs. “Sorry, Twilight. We were wondering if you could be available to play at a simple dinner in Ponyville?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing more than a dine out looking for some smooth jazz. Can you do it?” She clasped her hands together giving me a begging stare.

“I’ll have a word with my quintet.” I took down the rest of my wine.

“Splendid! It will be a month from now at the Castle of Friendship in Ponyville,” she reached into her bosom and handed my a card that was uncomfortably warm, “Call this number if you have any questions.”

I waved them goodbye as my annoyed gaze fell upon the Cellist. “You can give a guy a little warning before you bring a princess.”

“Don’t be so uppity. It was Rarity’s idea.”

“Yeah, well thanks to you, I have an unnecessary gig on the horizon…”

“You know you love to play jazz,” she teased. I grumbled and adjusted my tie. “Are you doing anything after this?”

“No?” I awkwardly responded. Octavia was an odd one. I am not the sharpest crayon in the oven, but there are times when I think she is down right hitting on me, even though she’s invited her girlfriend to our concerts several times.

“Would you like to come over?”

“Hmm,” I tapped my chin acting as if I were torn from her question, “Nah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on, Gliss…”

“Nah, I’m coo, fam.” I turned to the exit. As I walked away I could feel her sorrowful eyes tracking me. There wasn’t anything wrong with her or her marefriend. If she wasn’t already with someone then Celestia only knows what I’d do. I suppose I should stop thinking like that. Tremolo was a good friend, but in truth I preferred to be alone.

~^^^^^~

I busted through the hotel room door, tired and craving cupcakes for some reason. Of course I couldn’t make it without a horde of journalists trying to pick my mind. I could never understand what they were aiming to find whenever they pestered me with questions that were rhetorical at best. “How long have you been playing piano?” They’d ask. I’d give them the usual charming smirk and say something like, “Look at my name, then you’ll know.” I’d get a laugh here or there, then I would climb into my carriage facepalming at how cringe the joke was.

I dunno. With the life that I live you’d think me a loon for complaining about anything. I have money, I live very comfortable, and, though I’m a B-lister, I am still a celebrity. Maybe if I had someone to share it with. Maybe that’s what Octavia keeps hinting at, but I’m not the polygamous type. I should have said yes. Maybe she’ll take me in at this hour. I looked out the window to the pale moonlight blanketing the Manehattan skyline, and slipped into a contemplative sleep.