Flying HomeView Online500 SongsFlying HomeAuthor's Note Flying Home by the Benny Goodman Sextet. I wanted to create a story about the history of Metal music once. Decided that the existence of A History of Rock Music in 500 Songs, the podcast, would give me enough groundwork to do Rock instead. I also wanted to create a story told entirely through forms of media, but that was really hard considering what I want this story to be, so they became preambles instead. This will never be 100% historically accurate, I’ve taken creative liberties and will be taking creative liberties throughout. Benny Goodman wasn’t a girl, and unlike some other female characters that may pop up, he showed no indication that he may have been trans in a different life, but the pun was too easy to pass up. Though note: this AU is realistic enough to what was actually happening to some of these artists, so if that isn’t your thing, please keep that in mind. Anything you can think of from the history of the last 100 or so years will be in here, though ponified. I figured I would get that out of the way, so you have been warned. Flying Home Canterlotite Bandleader White Pole Kicks off New Style ‘Bandleader White Pole, who was one of the first unicorns to adopt a full orchestra, has started performing a series of high-profile concerts in Canterlot. These concerts have recently been recorded onto brand new technology: the vinyl disk. Units of both the specialized music player to play these disks and the concerts are flying off the shelves. These trends point to a larger trend kicked off by these concerts. Orchestras are spreading across the country now, with several citing these White Pole recordings as the gateway into a new style of music. Among these is a young pegasus clarinetist called Good Mare, who has gone on record to state that she’s ready to play in an orchestra like that. She claims it’s going to have 30 ponies, and that the likes of it will never have been seen before. Good Mare’s Orchestra is slated to play their first concert in a month. In addition, more orchestras have popped up similar to this one…’ “Alright, so, Fletching Feather, everything’s all ready for tonight?” “It appears so, Good Mare.” “Good, let’s knock the crowd’s socks off. Let’s start with the orchestra. You know, Swing, that Jazz. Then we’ll move onto the other Jazz.” Fletching Feather quickly looked around the area backstage. All of the musicians were there, and the rest of the smaller group would be arriving shortly. Fletching Feather went around and gave everypony a piece of sheet music. After a quick reconnaissance, Fetching Feather returned to Good Mare. “You know Harmony, the unicorn who started this whole thing? Well, allegedly, he has a special idea in mind for us. He has asked to see us after the show,” Fletching mentioned. “Which us? Me, you, Faux Paux, and Willowing Breeze, or the orchestra?” Good Mare responded. “He seems interested in the smaller group, curiously.” “What could he possibly want us for?” “Only time can tell.” Fletching peaked out in front of the curtain. Good Mare had managed to score a pretty decent venue for the orchestra to play at. Right now, the seats were reasonably packed. It wasn’t like the Good Mare Orchestra were up and comers, but ponies showing up was always nice, especially considering that Good Mare tended to have an impromptu Jazz session during every show. After a look at that, Fletching Feather turned to Good Mare. “Lots of ponies showed up, we should probably grace them with our presence.” Good Mare briefly took flight and did a loop. “Let’s do this then! “Everypony, to your positions!” It was a successful concert. The Good Mare Orchestra and Good Mare Quartet had finished the set, and the quartet were getting all their things packed up. Fletching Feather managed to keep Willowing Breeze from leaving quite yet, and Faux Pas was still packing up his drum kit, though he at least had some magic to speed up the process. Willowing Breeze eyed Good Mare and Fletching Feather specifically. The mustachioed stallion had wanted to leave right after the Jazz improvisation, and he was naturally interested in knowing why he hadn’t. “So, why are all four of us together again? I hope the venue doesn’t want me to carry my piano back myself.” “No,” Good Mare clarified, the mint green mare adjusted her glasses as she said it, “Harmony, who I presume you know, has wanted to gather us for some reason.” “That old stallion? He’s still involved in this band?” “Nothing in the books has changed, Willow. He’s got us a lot of gigs we probably wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.” Stacking his drums, Faux Pas added, “When Harmony speaks, you tend to listen. Lots of my contemporaries learned that the hard way.” “All the unicorns?” Willowing Breeze asked. “Not really too beaten up over that one.” Faux Pas shot Willowing Breeze a dirty look. The two stallions intently stared down each other. “We don’t have to do this!” Good Mare shouted, getting between the two. Just then, an orange unicorn walked backstage. His larger than life presence all congregated at the tip of his long, thin horn and dwarfed all the ponies in the room, including the star bandleader that was Good Mare. He strutted like he meant it, like he was the manager of the business. In this case, that wasn’t far off. “Hello mare and gentlestallions,” Harmony declared, probably louder than was necessary. Good Mare immediately took center stage, she after all, did lead this group. “Hello, Harmony. You wanted us?” “Yes,” Harmony replied. “So,” Willowing Breeze responded, “why did you want us.” “Let’s cut straight to the point. You know Celestia Hall?” “The most prestigious venue in Canterlot?” Good Mare responded. “The very same. So, deal is, I pulled some strings, drew upon my connections, and I’m holding a show there. I’m actually holding one very soon, pretty much Hearths’ Warming this year.” All four ponies backstage were now eagerly listening, Faux Pas had even stopped deconstructing his cymbals. “It’s going to be called,” Harmony raised his front hooves in a grand gesture, “Spirtuals to Swing. It’s a show dedicated to the evolution of music.” “What does this have to do with us.” Willowing Breeze deadpanned. “Let him finish,” Fletching Feather replied. “You are going to be the Swing act. One of a few, actually, but you are the final act, as you are the biggest act.” Harmomy finished. Good Mare looked around at her diverse group of musicians. “And if they don’t let us in?” Harmony laughed with a worrying confidence. “Trust me, they won’t get a choice.” After that line, Harmony stepped out; Good Mare looked around at the rest of the quartet. “Well that was something. Methods aside, I do think this may be a pretty important show for us, especially if Harmony’s putting it on. Can everypony make it?” Everypony looked around and they all nodded. “Good, now that we’re on the same page, you are all dismissed,” Good Mare said. One by one, everypony left backstage, Willowing Breeze, Fletching Feather, Faux Pas, carrying a concerning number of drums in his magic. Finally, Good Mare left, leaving the venue completely empty. Good Mare still couldn’t believe it. Even with the date of the Spirtuals to Swing concerts rapidly approaching, the fact was simple, she and her three other members of the quartet were playing at one of, if not the most prestigious venue in Canterlot. Even if the concert was something put on by a Canterlot elite member, he was still interested in the earth pony music like the Swing she played. Right now, Good Mare was sitting in her house, a modest one, by all means, but she did have one. She was still contemplating the gig, but one thing she wasn’t prepared for was a sharp knock on the door. Good Mare traveled to the door, expecting maybe Fletching Feather. Instead, when she opened the door, a familiar orange unicorn was standing in front of where the door would be. “Harmony, what are you doing here? Wait. You looked at the records, didn’t you?” “Celestia does have a pretty vast selection of the residents of Canterlot,” Harmony replied, not really answering the question but implying that yes, he did indeed look at the records. “You’re serious about the Good Mare Quartet performing, right?” Good Mare blurted out. “The schedule has not changed. Unless you want out, then that can be arranged.” “No, I think it’s great for the locals to see the three races working together,” Good Mare replied. “Just… hard to believe.” “Sometimes dreams aren’t achieved until you realize you’ve already done them,” Harmony mused. “Anyways, I also enjoy that prospect, and thus, you are still on the bill.” “Thanks, uh, sir— Harmony.” Harmony looked at Good Mare. Despite his larger than life presence, the two were roughly similar in height. “But, no, the reason why I’m here is that I have an idea I hope you’ll find intriguing.” Harmony cut it off right there. Good Mare looked around for a moment, expected a little more, then looked back at Harmony. “Well, I’m all ears.” “I’ve found two more players who I think fit your group very nicely. I have… my own ideas in regards to them.” Harmony said, deliberately. Good Mare was very much invested in whatever Harmony was talking about, so she focused even more intently on whatever he was going to say next. “I’ve arranged a meeting with them. It’s near the town square. It’s of course, a little out of the way. However, I am asking you to come with me to see these musicians.” “Sounds good,” Good Mare said. She was closing the door when she quickly remembered another question she should ask. “Uh, when’s the meeting?” “The meeting is arranged for an hour from now. Do with that information whatever you wish.” Good Mare looked at Harmony standing still in the doorway, then shut the door on him, wondering what that stallion could possibly have in mind next. Good Mare looked around the town square. Canterlot was usually hustling and bustling, with ponies taking their usual routes to work, some coming back, and several ponies meeting up. Today, however, minus a few stragglers, the town square was very much barren. Uncharacteristically barren, almost. Now, not every hour could be a busy one, and Good Mare hadn’t really been here in the evening, as it currently was. Regardless, it was still an interesting sight. Good Mare shook herself off in the slight chill of the cooling autumn air. Good Mare momentarily thought about the time she had spent as a weather pony. She hadn’t needed her wings much since she had become a popular musician, but she still enjoyed flying. She hadn’t done much of that since, actually… The now airborne Good Mare decided to look around a bit. Staying low to the ground, in case any unicorn decided to rat her out for being a pegasus, she eventually found a back alley that had some lights strung in-between the houses. She stopped to admire the artistry, when she heard a voice. “Pretty, isn’t it?” it said. “Regardless, hello there, Good Mare.” Good Mare yipped and immediately landed. Harmony was right in front of her when she did so. She thought it was him based on the voice, but she still was a little surprised. “Where else?” Harmony said as if it was obvious. “As promised, I have some new musicians for you. Come here.” Good Mare followed Harmony further down the back alley. Soon, the pair came to a stop in front of a couple earth ponies. One wore a tilted smile and was enjoying herself as she sat behind an instrument comprised entirely of metal bars. The other was squinting at his instrument, an acoustic guitar. Whether that was his natural demeanor or whether he couldn’t afford glasses, Good Mare did not know. “Are these the ponies you wanted me to meet?” Good Mare asked. “The same,” Harmony responded. “Lion Heart and Golden Celestian.” “Lion is on…?” “Vibraharp.” “So Celestian must be the guitarist then.” “Yes.” “And why do you think they will be assets to the group?” “Good Mare, these earth ponies are simply the best at their instruments.” Harmony raised his head to direct the next statement directly at the two ponies standing beside each other. “If you’d care to show us.” Harmony then threw out a magic spell that Good Mare had never seen before. Given, she hadn’t seen much magic aside from Faux Pas’ levitation spells, but Harmony was directing it directly at the instruments. “What’s that?” Good Mare asked. “You’ll see in due time.” Was the only reply she got. Soon after that, the two traded off short solos. However, the sound that came out of the instruments was incredibly unusual. The Vibraharp, thought Good Mare hadn’t seen such an instrument yet, she still had a sneaking suspicion that it had to be louder than usual. This was mainly because the guitar sounded completely different. It was more modern, crisper, and less authentic. Instead, it was louder, and had a light, glassy sound. Almost like it was… electrified. The two soloists showed incredible virtue, too, Good Mare simply knew she would have to add them to her lineup, and figure something out for the upcoming concert. “They’re spectacular,” Harmony said, seeming to be excited, but betraying no excitement in his voice. “What do I do if I want these ponies?” Good Mare asked. “I’ll talk to… Fletching Feather about it,” Harmony responded. “The show is, however, in a month and change. It’s up to you.” “I will absolutely be taking these ponies with me,” Good Mare declared. “As I thought.” Harmony responded. With that, Harmony left the scene, and Good Mare was left with two eager ponies waiting out for her in this back alley. Well, there was really only one thing to do, to say. “Lion, Celestian, welcome to the Good Mare Sextet.” “Alright, band. We’re on in 5,” Good Mare said to her collection of musicians. The Good Mare Sextet, since adding their two new members, had practiced together as a cohesive unit. Good Mare knew that whatever spell Harmony used to amplify the guitar and Vibraharp was not doable by any members in the group, she asked Faux Pas, and he couldn’t help. However, what Good Mare really tried to do was get them playing part approximates that would hopefully still sound good once amplified. “We’re playing Sing, Sing, Sing correct?” Fletching Feather said. “It’s our biggest hit, of course we are.” Good Mare clarified. Then, Good Mare heard a voice from the main stage. “Let me introduce to you, Swing extraordinares, and the final act of the evening! The Good Mare Sextet!” It wasn’t Harmony’s voice, Good Mare was plenty familiar with that one. This one didn’t sound like they were deliberately being as cryptic as possible, so it must be somepony he hired. Good Mare stepped out onto the stage. The group was going to have to keep a collection of various unicorns entertained for at least a half hour. As the musicians set up their instruments, Good Mare looked up to the microphone that the organizers had decided to hung from the ceiling. Now, she knew it was hanging because it picked up the entire stage, but she decided to fly up and get close so she could be heard. “Is this thing on?” Instant mic feedback. Good Mare winced, but talked anyways. “Hello everypony. We’re the Good Mare Sextet,” she started, flying around the microphone to get a better angle. “We’ve got plenty of music here for you, though the orchestra isn’t here right now. I still have to thank Fletching Feather for managing those ponies.” Good Mare gestured to Fletching Feather while she said that, who sat behind his piano. Good Mare looked around as Faux Pas finished setting up his drum kit. She noticed Harmony in a box seat, likely with one of his parents, as his companion had a sort of upper-crust look about them, even going the whole nine miles and putting on clothes. “We’re going to bring you some brand new sounds you’ve probably never heard, really cutting edge stuff.” She tried to nod toward Harmony as she said this, hoping he’d notice. Harmony, up in the seats looked more intently at Good Mare, curious at what she was doing and noticed the signal. Before Good Mare could blink, a precisely aimed bolt of magic had amplified Golden Celestian’s guitar, and Lion Heart’s Vibraharp soon after. Good Mare blinked at the sudden magic, landing out of shock, but she regained her footing quickly. “You all know this one. Sing, Sing, Sing.” Good Mare stepped back to let the instruments do the talking from then on. The song started with Faux Pas’ raucous tom groove. A fast, swung beat that would soon be synonymous with the drummer who played it. So much so that such tom grooves went on to bear his name, Faux Pas grooves. Good Mare let this continue on for a while, letting Faux Pas mix up the beats a bit. After a while, she came in with her clarinet, playing a riff that would be impossible to not sing along to. However, it wasn’t Good Mare that the ponies were interested in, but rather Golden Celestian, who was also playing along to the riff. However, he was doing it louder. Faux Pas swung his sticks over to the ride while all this was going on, enhancing the sound with a less intrusive beat that didn’t focus so heavily on the loud, booming, toms. The three kept this up for a good while, before Good Mare decided that everypony was getting a solo. So, she decided to usher in the band herself with a clarinet solo. The clarinet danced as she threw in a few unique licks to continue driving the song forward. Faux Pas kept the song driving with a tom groove throughout the entire solo. When Good Mare was finished, she looked around. Golden Celestian was the only one in the front of the sextet with her. Fletching Feather, Willowing Breeze, playing the upright bass, Faux Pas, and Lion Heart were all sprawled out behind Good Mare and Golden Celestian in a semicircle. So, she knew who to give a signal to. She flew over to give Golden Celestian a signal to play his solo. A signal which Faux Pas picked up and introduced with a short fill. Celestian’s solo was driving and compact, playing a few double stops, playing two alternating notes in rapid succession, every so often as he played chords. His guitar playing was timed with the music’s stabs, creating a percussive solo that was very different from Good Mare’s freer clarinet one. Soon Good Mare flew over to Fletching Feather, and the rest of the band quieted down as he danced on the keys. Outlining the main melody but taking it several different places. Packed with feeling, Fletching lightly tickled the keys, rarely playing chords, but instead letting the individual keys do the talking. While Fletching was busy with his solo, Good Mare skipped over Willowing Breeze and Faux Pas, because they didn’t necessarily need solos, and went on to Lion Heart. After Fletching Feather finished his piano solo, Faux Pas returned to banging his toms. The sextet did a reprise of the melody, and Good Mare flew over to Lion Heart to call him in. Lion Heart again, played the main melody, but added in Vibraharp chords of his own. In between some of the lyrical stabs, he viciously climbed and descended the Vibraharp chromatically, hitting pretty much every note from his starting point to his destination. Faux Pas held back on his drum playing, letting the Vibraharp do all the talking it needed to. Lion Heart continued his blistering pace eventually ending on a chord progression that sounded like a massive event. A classic ii-V-I, by himself with no backing instruments, punctuating the destination chord with a double stop. The sextet concluded with one final repetition of the main melody with even more energy than it had before, helped by all the instruments playing their own variation on the melody. Faux Pas, the sole exception, as he continued his less intrusive beat. After the band concluded with a crash, Good Mare thought she could hear the entire Celestia Hall cheering and stomping for her. She looked up at Harmony, who was probably stomping the loudest despite his outward stoic behavior. She flew back up to the microphone hanging from the ceiling. “That was Sing, Sing, Sing! If you’ll excuse us, we have the stage for a while. Sit back and enjoy yourselves, everypony.” The Good Mare Sextet played a few more songs, but Good Mare didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline any more than when the sextet played Sing, Sing, Sing. The sextet reconvened backstage as the concert was getting wrapped up. Good Mare flapped her wings rapidly, she hadn’t used those that much in quite a while. Being able to fly didn’t get you any special treatment in Canterlot, being a pegasus didn’t help either. Faux Pas dropped his drumsticks and his drums with an unceremonious thud right next to the sextet. “I think I used pretty much my entire magic reserves during that show. That was exhilarating! Tiring, but exhilarating,” he said, flopping to the ground. “I knew I made the right choice getting Harmony to sign us up for this,” Fletching Feather mused. “Canterlot knows who the Good Mare Sextet is now, and that’s real exciting. Also, new recruits. Great job out there, you made the earth ponies proud.” “Thanks,” Golden Celestian muttered Lion Heart was a little more vocal. “Glad we could do that, at least. Even though there probably weren’t any in that crowd.” “Someday,” Fletching Feather said. “That was such a fun show!” Good Mare said, still having enough lift in her tired wings to do a flip. “I’m so happy I could fly! I’m happy I could fly in the first place!” Good Mare grabbed her clarinet and played a light, airy melody. The notes were short, and the melody didn’t travel too much. “That’s essentially the mood I’m in right now. “That’s a good melody,” Fletching Feather said. “Now that you mention it…” Good Mare added. “And I don’t think we’ve used it before…” Fletching Feather continued. “It’s true, we haven’t,” Good Mare said. “It’s so light and airy it makes me feel like I’m flying again.” Good Mare sat and thought for a second. “We could do what we did with Sing, Sing, Sing, out there. Duplicate the melody. Give the soloists a solo, Celestian, and Lion, and probably me.” Willowing Breeze and Faux Pas looked up. “Are you forgetting somebody?” Willowing Breeze asked. Fletching Feather now took a thought. “Oom-pah on the bass, with fills of course, Faux Pas, do you have any brushes?” Faux Pas, who was still unceremoniously flopped onto the ground, pulled himself up to his haunches. He dug through the drum kit mess that lay beside and around him, before lifting out some small snare brushes. “It seems I do…” he said, “what do you want these for?” Fletching Feather scratched his head a tad, mumbling things such as, “That wouldn’t work,” and “Too busy.” Then, his face lit up. “Just a normal Swing beat will suffice,” Fletching Feather said. “What will we call it?” Good Mare contemplated. “Um,” Good Mare heard a timid voice from off to her side state. She turned, to find Golden Celestian. “You mentioned that it reminded you of the days you were flying…?” “I mean, it was just weather patrol, I was born in Canterlot,” Good Mare said. “But, um, wouldn’t you like to see Cloudsdale?” “Which pegasus doesn’t? It's a home to many of us, the ones who didn’t migrate towards Appleoosa, at least. Not as much weather to monitor there, pretty simple life for a lot of weather patrol.” “So,” Celestian weakly interjected. “Would you say you’d like to go Flying Home?” A sudden clamor erupted among the sextet. There wasn’t a single pony who disliked that idea. “Focus!” Good Mare shouted. That got them stopping pretty quickly. “Ya know,” Lion Heart, “We can talk about this all we like, but how will we record it?” “I can probably get somepony to do it for us,” Fletching Feather responded. “Hello mares and gentlecolts,” said a voice from behind. Good Mare knew that could be only one pony. She turned to find Harmony. “I can pull a few strings. I’ll get that song recorded.” “How?” Lion Heart asked. “Lion Heart, my father is a politician and my mother is Canterlot elite. I can get whatever I want to. I’ll schedule you all for… next week.” Harmony had a few extra things to say, mainly regarding the show and the spell he used, so Faux Pas could use it for later. The group soon split up and prepared for next week. Flying Home had been another popular song. Good Mare sighed as she remembered when she recorded that with that old sextet. They’d all moved on now, but Good !are still ran an orchestra, just not a sextet. She felt that group of six was too special to mess around with. Good Mare sat up in her bed, looking at the framed Pop charts for that year… 939 ANM. In the top 5, there was the song, Flying Home, featuring Golden Celestian. Right below the charts, an acoustic guitar on a rack. A few months after that Spirituals to Swing show, Golden Celestian would come down with a cough. He’d live for a while after, but eventually… Good Mare sighed. One of the greatest guitar players she knew, gone. “I hope you’re playing among the stars,” she said, gazing up to the mare on the moon.
Posey RedView Online500 SongsPosey RedAuthor's Note Ida May by Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys This is probably the one most loosely based on a true story in this story so far, but what’s a biopic without a little embellishment? CW: Alcoholism and graphic detail Posey Red “Now, we welcome the head of this radio show, the Mills show, and the advertising head of Mills and its subsidiaries… your DJ for the evening, Poppy O’Daisy and his band, the Light Crust Doughcolts.” “I’d like to welcome y’all to WBAP radio. We’ve got a collection of songs lined up for y’all to listen to. Classic Southern, Appleoosa stuff. Now of course, I’m good ol’ Poppy Oh, and I’ve got with me the Light Crust Doughcolts here. Would y’all care to introduce yourselves?” “I’m Wills Weigh.” “Hilt Edge.” “Hay Austere—“ “That’s enough of that. Y’all have day jobs to get back to. Can’t be holdin’ up this station. Anyway, our first song comes from the Colts of the Pegasi. Tumblin’ Tumbleweeds.” [scattered, pained laughter] See them tumbling down… “How long we been supportin’ that Poppy Oh colt?” the pony, a colt himself, attempted to give off an air of elegance. He sat still and gave a smile, though was hampered by his slightly worse teeth. “Good question, Hilt Edge,” responded another pony, in a cowboy hat. He sat haphazardly, eyeing his empty cup as if he wanted more. His fiddle lay beside his hooves, carefully placed where he couldn’t possibly fidget onto it. Four ponies, pegasi, sat together in an old-timey saloon. The smell of Appleoosian cider wafted through the air, as a pianist played an old earth pony song on a tinny piano. It might’ve been an old Blues standard, nopony was sure. The four ponies sitting together were discussing what was going to happen. They’d been under Poppy O’Daisy for quite a while, and felt they could do more than be an advertising vessel for a wheat company. In their time away from the grain mill, they could discuss some options. “It’s been ‘bout 3 years,” a pony responded, a bit more serious, true to his name of Hay Austere. He left his instrument at home, he didn’t want it to get damaged in any way. “Ah wager that Poppy Oh colt don’t want anythin’ besides marketing for us,” the fourth and final colt added. Hilt Edge’s brother, he didn’t care about appearing professional. His mane unkempt, and his hooves splayed out as he laid, rather than sat. “Now, Dagger, that may be true,” the hat-wearing pony added. “But we also ain’t gonna do much with him watchin’ over our backs.” “Ah get where yer comin’ from, Wills,” Dagger added, “but we’re already a success, the least he can do is recognize that.” “But he won’t,” Wills countered. “Not long as his business keep goin’, and we’re part of it.” Dagger rolled his eyes, “We can just change the name. Put on fake mustaches or whatever.” “As if that’ll work,” Wills added. “Calm down, gentlestallions,” Hilt added. “Seems like Hay Austere here might have an idea.” Hay Austere looked slowly around the table at the three ponies sitting around him. “Okay, so here’s my idea. Let’s record some old Folk tune, or whatever, under a different name. If Poppy Oh finds out, we’re gonna have to take it. We’re already popular.” Wills Weigh sighed. “That’s basically just Dagger’s idea, but guess I’m outvoted.” “What shall we record?” Hilt Edge asked. “Just whatever, you know Nanny?” Wills replied. “I think I do.” “Let’s go then.” “Hey, Ah know you folks.” a pony said. He was slated to be producing the Doughcolts as they recorded their first song. “You’re the Light Crust Doughcolts.” Wills Weigh looked all around, as if trying to figure out if somepony was watching him. “Uh, no, we’fe the uh… New Apploosian Doughcolts,” he denied. “Well, Ah was promised the Light Crust Doughcolts, that’s how y’all got here in the first place.” the engineer contested. “Ah, well, we’re the New Apploosian Doughcolts. Similar name, musta gotten them confused.” “Ah don’t trust ya one bit. Ah’m gonna have to order y’all to leave.” Beads of sweat coalesced on Wills Weigh’s brow. He worried that this was going to fall apart the second he started to say anything, thankfully, Hilt Edge stepped up. “Please, listen to us? Once?” The engineer rolled his eyes, but he saw they had instruments, so he let out a long sigh and continued. “Fine, but don’t expect anythin’ to come outta this.” Wills Weigh nodded, and took a position behind a microphone, holding his fiddle, ready to play. “Rollin’ Nanny. One and a, two and a… Wills Weigh started off playing a fiddle riff while Dagger and Austere banged away on their guitars. Austere was playing a simple stop-start percussive riff while Dagger punctuated it with two strums, keeping up with the waltz of the song. It was a remarkably simple song, Hilt Edge would throw in floating phrases he’d taken from the various Jazz songs he heard, and Wills Weigh would answer with that same fiddle riff. The band flowed with the music, they were all focused and incredibly cohesive as a unit. After all, Poppy Oh didn’t settle for anything less than perfect. After the song concluded, without much fanfare, the engineer looked at the group cautiously. “It’s a good song ‘an all… but it’s longer than 3 minutes.” Wills Weigh flew over to the machine carving the disc and found that there was in fact quite a bit of recording time on it. He returned to his position near the center of the room to consult the group. “What do we do ‘bout this?” “Well, why not release it?” Hilt Edge answered. “After all, if it doesn’t become a hit, the better chance we got of keepin’ our feathers.” Wills Weigh nodded, and looked towards the engineer. “Get it pressed,” he said. The engineer was surprised, but he complied. “Y’ALL DID WHAT?!” Poppy O’Daisy screeched into the ears of the Light Crust Doughcolts. Nanny sold a few copies, and he found out awfully quick. Now, he’d confronted them directly on Appleoosian streets. Wills Weigh panicked just a little inside. Any chance they had at independent stardom was now shot down. How were you supposed to respond to Appleoosian elite? A unicorn in his prime, complete with a short temper and greedy demeanor? As a pegasus, you didn’t question these things. Wills Weigh was understandably, very worried when Dagger did anyways. “Yeah, we recorded somethin’. We did it without your approval. What’re ya gonna do?” Dagger challenged. “We’re obviously too much of an asset to lose.” Poppy Oh was practically furious at the challenge. “AH CERTAINLY CAN! Ah’ll just get two more Light Crust Doughcolts, nopony will notice. Pegasi constantly have their head in the clouds anyways. Ah’ll introduce them. Business as usual, except Ah won’t have an ungrateful little guitarist under me.” Dagger glared daggers at Poppy Oh, the tension was so thick you could cut it with one as well. “Ah’m pretty sure their listenin’ for us.” “They’re listenin’ to Wills and Hilt, yain’t doin’ anythin’ they notice. Those two are the singers,” Poppy Oh sneered. “Who’s to say Ah won't drag Hilt along.” Dagger contested. “Ah do! Yer fired, and if you bring any pony from this group with ya, I’ll ruin yer reputation. Ah’ve got dirt on everypony here.” Poppy Oh declared. Hilt stepped forward. “I’m leavin’, too. I can’t be under a pony who treats his performers like they’re expendable.” Poppy O’Daisy’s eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns, or maybe that was just Wills Weigh imagining things. Poppy Oh was almost so mad he lost all semblance of anger in his voice, uttering in a cold monotone,”See how well that works out fer ya. Just remember that Ah told you so.” Dagger and his brother left the scene, walking off to some unknown place. Meanwhile, Wills Weigh was absolutely terrified. Hay Austere probably was, too, but he didn’t show it. “Wills, ya better. Not. Leave.” Wills Weigh nodded his head viciously. “Yes Mr. Poppy Oh.” “And you too Hay.” Hay Austere merely nodded. Poppy Oh straightened himself out and retruned to his jolly persona. “Now let’s get down ta business, shall we?” Hilt Edge looked at the pegasi around him. It was the same saloon where he’d talked business with the Doughcolts, the sound of Ragtime filled the air and ponies chattered all around the bar. Busy drinking their drinks which were, probably spiked a little too much. The new pony, a professional sort with a goatee, looked across at the two brothers whispering amongst themselves. “This colt’s in, right?” Hilt whispered. “He’s absolutely in,” Dagger whispered back. The two brothers sat up and looked calmly over the table. “Alright, so, Mr. Well Done. We’ve considered your performance,” Hilt began. “And we’ve determined that you’re pretty much in.” Dagger finished. “For the record, we’re playin’ Country Swing here. Ah hope ya know what that entails.” “Is it anything like Good Mare?” Well Done replied, in an unusually Canterlotian accent. “I’m a big fan of hers.” Hilt waved his wings in an indecisive motion. “A little more Country then Swing.” Well Done looked up at the ceiling. “I think I can pull it off.” “Good, then you’re in.” Hilt Edge sighed as he looked at the sheet he laid on the table regarding all the instruments he wanted to fill. Piano, steel guitar, double bass, fiddle, and voice and guitar, but those were accounted for. He flew over the the main bar, a nice mahogany construction. Taking a pencil usually reserved for editing the errors in the Ragtime sheet music, this one set to ‘Guitar Rag’, he crossed out steel guitar and surveyed the rest of the list. “One down, three to go,” he mumbled. Hilt flew back to the table, where Dagger was drinking some unholy cocktail. “Hilt, how’s it lookin’?” he asked. Instead of responding to Dagger directly, he looked at Well Done. “We’ll be recordin’ music eventually. In the meantime, do ya happen to know of any instrumentalists…” Hilt pushed the paper towards Well Done, “that happen to fit these criteria?” Well Done surveyed the paper. “I think I could name a few.” Hilt’s eyes widened, and he flew down, picking up his cocktail and coaxing a toast out of Dagger. “Can’t believe we’re gettin’ a band!” Hilt enthused. Dagger laughed a little, as well, “Wanna order somethin’?” “Ah heard the brownies are pretty good. At least, they’re popular among the musicians who work here. They claim the increase their musical capabilities,” Hilt responded. “Wait,” Well Done replied. “Is this some kind of Appleoosian thing, do you have musical brownies?” Hilt once again looked around at the situated ponies, and he got an idea. “They do now! Hey, colts, how’d ya like to be called the Musical Brownies?” The three ponies laughed. Not one of them was in disagreement. He remembered. He saw. Wills Weigh slammed down a bottle of hard cider, even tougher than the usual stuff. Then, he slammed the bottle onto the table. That sight… Wills Weigh shuddered. He was just walking along when he came across him. A lime green pegasus, one he inherently recognized. He was found dead, in the middle of the street. Maybe he fell off a house, flew to close to the sun, but ponies didn’t just fall off buildings like that. Not with both wings broken, covered in bruises, scratches, cuts, fractures. Multiple other issues Wills Weigh didn’t notice… because he looked away before that. He didn’t report the body, he already was shaken enough just seeing his old friend as broken as that. He tried drinking more of his cider, but he realized he’d drank it all already. Wills Weigh knew that The Musical Brownies were doing well, and he remembered what Poppy Oh had said, about having dirt on everypony in town. He didn’t want Hilt and Dagger to take off and form their own band. But… just how far would he go? The last time he saw Poppy Oh, catching up with the local Appleoosian hits, he seemed awfully mad. Wills knew how bad he could get. But was it that bad? Did Wills Weigh want to risk it? Would he end up as broken and bloodied as Hilt Edge was found? Maybe he should record with Poppy Oh just a little bit longer. He’d need another cider to deal with it. How close was he? Wills Weigh raided the pantry, the place where he stored all the drinks, ones he could afford with his increased pay. Opening the lid to that one, he drank a little. “Celestia help me,” he muttered to himself. Poppy O’Daisy lounged lazily. The radio show was starting soon, hopefully another thing he could use to race for the Appleoosian mayoral title. Wills Weigh’s eyes darted around the room, taking it all in. It was a recording room, that was simple, though rudimentally constructed. It was really no better than a shack, and it was tough fitting four ponies in there. Records sat on a shelf beside the recording equipment. Hay Austere remained in the Light Crust Doughcolts, and Wills Weigh did, thanks to a raise. In the meantime, Wills Weigh had been made the leader, and it didn’t take much convincing. All he had to do was see Hilt Edge… He didn’t want to think about it. He just had to convince Poppy Oh that he wanted to do whatever Poppy Oh asked with unwavering dedication. Then, he hired another guitarist, and another singer, Audio Screech and Dark Dancer respectively. “‘Bout time colts,” Poppy Oh said. “Time ta run the commercial.” Throughout the tiny little shack, the words that had wormed into Wills Weigh’s mind repeated their cheery and condescending cadence. He hated those words, but who knew what would happen when he left. “Now, we welcome the head of this radio show, the Mills show, and the advertising head of Mills and its subsidiaries… your DJ for the evening, Poppy O’Daisy and his band, the Light Crust Doughcolts.” A theme song played, and Poppy Oh started speaking. “I got with me here everypony’s favorite. Say hello, Wills.” “H-hello,” Wills stammered. “Come on, you can say it louder than that!” “Yes sir!” Wills Weigh shouted. “Hello everypony listenin’ in! We’re the— Light Crust Doughcolts, live in studio. Now, if you’d please introduce yourselves?” “Hay Austere,” Hay Austere said. “Dark Dancer,” a chocolate pegasus said. The ponies at home didn’t see it, but he knew he was going to do well. Every about him had a smug aura about it. “Audio Screech,” said a pegasus with a messy haircut. Also smug, but not to the same degree. “Wow, ya really gave them a full round huh?” Poppy Oh cajoled. “Did… I do somethin’ wrong?” Wills Weigh asked. “Ah’ll let ya know during this next song. It’s an old one, from way down South. Ain’t Nobody’s Fault but Mine.” Poppy Oh grabbed the record in question and started playing it, then turned directly to Wills Weigh. “What’s gotta into ya?” Poppy Oh scolded. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry…” Wills Weigh replied, hiding his face between his wings. “Sure as hell ya are! What’s this? Stammerin’? Friendliness?” Poppy Oh chided. “Ya used ta be the best. Ah didn’t make you a leader for no reason! Ya think I want to pay ya more than the minimum!? “Ah swear, Ah thought you were different. Ya seemed ready to go no matter the circumstance. Now your friend dies and you’re a blubbering mess! Pull yourself together!” Poppy Oh yelled, leaving Wills Weigh in a collapsed heap on the floor. Peaking up between the wings covering his head, Wills Weigh nodded. “I’ll… try ta pull myself together,” he muttered. “Ah don’t want ya ta try, I want ya to do,” Poppy Oh emphasized. “U-uderstood.” Poppy Oh turned back over to the microphone, where the record had long since stopped playing. He looked around in a panic. Wills Weigh slowly got back onto his hooves, and realized what that meant. The ponies in range could’ve easily heard that with no loud records to drown it out. Poppy Oh looked back at Wills Weigh and scowled. “For our next song, Ah’ve got a copy of… In the Jailhouse Now. That’ll be the next song on deck.” That record started playing, and Poppy Oh looked back at Wills Weigh, “We’re talkin’ ya hear?” Wills Weigh swallowed and nodded. What he didn’t notice was the pegasi around him, trying to offer a comforting hoof. “Wills Weigh, Ah got some serious business with you.” “Wha?” Wills Weigh looked up from his drink, only to find the last pony he wanted to see. “Ah said, let’s have a talk.” Poppy Oh declared, sitting right next to Wills Weigh and stealing the drink from him. Wills Weigh reached down, hoof groping the pristine table, before he belatedly realized that there wasn’t going to be any drinks. “Wha d’ya wanna say?” Wills Weigh slurred. "Ah wanted ta say that you, Wills Weigh are a lousy excuse fer not only a DJ, but a leader. Ah'm not payin' ya to stammer and drink!" Wills Weigh looked at Poppy Oh as he said this. After Poppy Oh concluded, Wills Weigh laughed. "Haha, Ah'm glad ya think so highly a' me." Poppy Oh grumbled, "Ah swear, if you don't get yer act straight, yer gonna end up like Hilt Edge." Wills Weigh stared off into the distance, then the words registered, and he was reduced to hysterics. “N-no, not— Hilt’s Edge!” Wills Weigh whinnied, “Ah-Ah don’t wanna end up dead!” Poppy Oh slapped Wills Weigh across the face. “Ah didn’t meant it like that, ya dumb pegasus.” Wills Weigh couldn’t help but still be panicked. Did he not, or did he really? What was another way he could’ve meant it? Of course, these thoughts went through his drunken head with no rhyme or reason to them. He grew so panicked he began crying. “Ah want my drink back—“ Wills Weigh complained. He needed something to forget this entire situation all over again. “Ah’ll give ya it back when ya listen!” Poppy Oh shouted. “Ah’m just gonna get to the point, ya got the radio station put on hiatus, and thus Ah’m not gonna win the mayoral race. Ah’ve been Appleoosa’s mayor for many years, and ya just had to ruin it all. Ah knew making a pegasus band would‘ve bitten me in the flank sooner or later. “ Wills Weigh, face ugly with tears from the beration, looked up at Poppy Oh, attempting to look past him into the world beyond, or rather outside. “Ah see yer eyein’ that door. Well, don’t let it hit ya, because yer fired Wills! Ah won’t tolerate a pony who ruins my campaign!” Poppy Oh declared. He threw down the bottle with a burst of magic and stormed out of the building, leaving a very broken Wills Weigh. He cried and cried, but couldn’t find a release. “So you’ve all been hired for the new group,” Wills Weigh stated. He drank down another sip of his hard cider and looked at the four ponies around him. Half of them were from the Light Crust Doughcolts, the other half were new hires. Wills Weigh was surprised when Audio Screech decided to join him, despite his less-than stellar showings. Their place of meeting wasn’t very high-quality, but Wills Weigh at least had enough amenities to prevent a mutiny. “And why didn’t we meet at the saloon again?” Audio Screech asked. Wills Weigh suddenly perked up and looked all around him. “I don’t want to deal with Poppy Oh!” “We usually didn’t at the saloon,” Audio Screech added. “Well, I don’t want any place at all where he could possibly be.” Wills Weigh countered. “Ya afraid he’s gonna kill you?” Audio Screech snarked. “Yes! Yes I am!” Wills Weigh shouted. Audio Screech and a new hire, Blue Whale, looked at him. “I have no idea where that came from…” Audio Screech added. Wills Weigh hyperventilated for a few seconds before turning to the two ponies. “Ya haven’t seem what I have.” Audio Screech and Blue Whale looked equally put off by Wills Weigh’s apparent paranoia. They stood up. “Hold it there…” Dark Dancer said. The two ponies sat back down. “He’s a great musician, isn’t he? Besides, let’s get to the matter at hand. What’s the group called?” Audio Screen chuckled. “The Wingboners,” he responded. “I’m not callin’ my group ‘The Wingboners’,” Wills Weigh emphasized. “I don’t want people pickin’ up my records and thinkin’ we’e some kinda hokum group.” “Well,” Whale Song pitched in, her perfectly melodious voice splitting the air. “We could always keep it simple. Most of you were in the New Apploosian Doughtcolts, weren’t you?” Every pony around the room nodded. “Let’s call ourselves the New Apploosian Gentlemares!” The three stallions in the room looked at her as if she said something ridiculous. “We’re callin’ ourselves the Gentlestallions,” Wills Weigh alluded, waving her off. “No! No! How about the Gentleponies then? The New Apploosian Gentleponies?” Whale Song attempted. “Fine,” said Wills Weigh. “That’ll work.” The four ponies prepared to get ready to start recording. Wills Weigh sat besides his fiddle, a drink of cider sitting atop a nearby coffee table— no doubt also containing a music magazine atop it. Audio Screech had said that he had a new composition on his hands that morning, so in the downtime, after letting more than a few companies know that they were the Light Crust Doughcolts, or at least majority so, they had finally gotten signed. The engineer wanted results stat, though, so Audio Screech had come in with his steel guitar claiming he had something new to play. After laying it down on the floor and attaching clamps to one of his wings, Audio Screech tuned it up and started playing. He slid his hands across the thing. Then, Wills said, “Kick it off Audio.” Audio obliged, and started playing a tune that implied an almost Ragtime feel, likely thanks to all the time he’d spend in the saloons. In fact the song was eerily similar to those played on those old out-of-tune pianos. Wills Weigh couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something innately familiar to it. Regardless of any familiarity, the beat was incredibly infectious, before he knew it, Wills Weigh, and indeed, the entire group was stomping along as Audio Screech slid his clasped wing up and down the strings. The sound was rather dead— no means of getting amplification when your populous is majority pegasus— at least, not yet. However, Audio Screech put his wings to some good use, bouncing with the stomping in the room. After the steel guitar went on, Wills Weigh offhoofedly said. “Mind if I try?” Audio Screech lifted his wings off the steel guitar and pointed his clasped wing at Wills Weigh. He picked up his fiddle and started playing a simple Country solo. Nothing too complex, but something that fit just right. After the fiddle solo went on for a bit, Audio Screech slid his wings across the guitar and cut the record. “I’m certain that’s a hit,” Dark Dancer said. Wills Weigh nodded. “What’re we callin’ that one?” Audio Screech didn’t expect that question. His eyes darted around the room, then he came up with an idea. “Let’s call it Steel Guitar Rag,” Audio mentioned. Wills Weigh raised an eyebrow, “Ain’t that one of the Ragtime things they play at the saloon?” Audio shook his head vigorously, he didn’t want the group to know that that arrangement was almost verbatim what the Ragtime ponies played. He didn’t know who played it, nor did he really care. Credit was overrated. “Not that I can recall,” Audio Screech said. “Besides, nopony’s gonna care! What, it’s an Earth Pony song, ain’t it?” “But I thought ya said it wasn’t an Earth Pony song.” “I’m sayin’ that if it is, who’s gonna care?” Wills Weigh sighed. “Fine.” The engineer conceded. “Earth Ponies ain’t exactly popular ‘round these parts. Ah say release it.” “They used to be the majority population,” Wills Weigh mumbled. “Used to. They certainly aren’t now,” Dark Dancer said. “Besides, didn’t you used to—“ “Shut up!” Wills Weigh screamed. He dashed over to his cider and drank a few sips. “Fine, yes I played a ‘Mudblood’ in those old performance shows. But I don’t no more, so…” Wills Weigh trailed off, and everypony looked at him. They all knew this, of course, he wasn’t exactly an obscure performer. However, they wanted to see what he had to say next. Wills Weigh drank he rest of his cider. He wasn’t going to convince anypony’s minds. “Fine.” The engineer quickly ran off to make a copy of the newly christened ’Steel Guitar Rag’. Wills Weigh sat to the side and slowly drank his cider, trying to figure out how to proceed with what the group was likely to do. Whatever the group did, it turned out to be a massive hit. Soon, all the Appleoosian stations were playing Steel Guitar Rag, and interest started being put onto Wills Weigh and his Gentleponies. Enough interest that they were asked to record another song, even though he very well knew Steel Guitar Rag was stolen, could he really complain when it was that big a hit? Wills Weigh arrived at the studio drinking his second glass of cider for the day. His steps were getting a little wobbly, but he could still think clearly, at least he assumed. He’d remembered to bring his fiddle, so how out of it could he be? Naturally, everypony was there before him, Dark Dancer, Whale Song, and Audio Screech. They were talking among themselves as Wills Weigh unceremoniously threw open the door, with a little tilt in his step. “Howdy, gentlestallions and mare,” Wills Weigh intoned. The three other ponies looked at him, a little off-put by his seemingly unsteady appearance. “We were jus’ discussin’ our next song to record,” Audio Screech mentioned. “What’s it lookin’ like?” Wills Weigh asked. “Well, I remember ya did that whole Nanny thing with… Hilt Edge, the leader of The Musical Brownies? Right?” Audio Screech asked, attempting to clarify. Wills Weigh put his glass of cider down and walked close up to Audio Screech’s face. “Ah don’t want Hilt Edge mentioned. Plain an’ simple.” Audio Screech rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. But regardless, ya recorded that old folk tune and recorded somethin’, right?” Wills Weigh nodded. “We did do that.” “Why not do the same? If y’all know Posey Red, we could give that one a swing,” Audio Screech concluded. “Ah hope this one’s not stolen,” Wills Weigh emphasized. “No, no. Just an’ ol’ folk tune,” Audio Screech clarified. Wills Weigh walked up to the microphone sitting in the center of the room, and started adjusting it. However, Dark Dancer pulled the mic away from Wills Weigh. “You’re too drunk to be doin’ this. Stick to the fiddle,” he stated, pushing Wills Weigh away. Wills Weigh stumbled backwards, and lifted up his fiddle. “Fine.” Dark Dancer took a guitar lying around while Audio Screech and Whale Song endeavored to set their instruments up. Strumming the guitar, and realizing it made no noise, Dark Dancer grumbled. “Bucking unicorns, stealing all the magic for themselves.” It was at that moment when the engineer walked out with a big black box that almost looked like a speaker on a radio. “Turns out the Earth Ponies found some way to concentrate the magic for brief use. Figured y’all could use it.” Dark Dancer laughed. “Looks like Earth Ponies got some legs to stand on.” Setting the black box down and taking the cord and plugging it into the spare guitar, Dark Dancer was able to amplify his sound. It still didn’t add much to the guitar’s tone, but it could be used. “Didn’t know you could play, Dancer,” Audio Screech observed. “I’ve been practicing, probably the best at my instrument in this room, honestly.” Wills Weigh rolled his eyes. “Ah’ve been playin’ fiddle for years. Anyways, everypony back to their positions, let’s kick this thing off.” Wills Weigh started clicking his hoof ferociously on the ground, trying to keep a slightly swung but still upbeat pace. He immediately kicked the song off with him sawing his fiddle, immediately kicking off with a fiddle solo. However, the solo only lasted a brief moment before Wills Weigh rested his fiddle and listened to Dark Dancer sing while playing a jazzy chord pattern on his guitar. “Light from the parlor, fire in the grate. The waiter right there says it’s gettin’ late. Curtains in the window, drawn- snowy white, parlor’s pleasant on a Saturday night.” The first verse was delivered at a rapid fire place while Wills Weigh kept up his stomping. The lyrics for each verse differed each time they heard this song performed, but one thing that didn’t change was the chorus, and gang vocal tagging in what was assumed to be the favorite mare at this parlor. “Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!” Without the urging of anypony, Dark Dancer launched right into a guitar solo. Wills Weigh sighed, but he kept his rhythm going. Dark Dancer ran up and down the strings of his guitar, plucking away with his wing. He ran through a couple scales as Wills Weigh intensified his stomping to watch what Dark Dancer was doing more intently. However, the solo only lasted for as long as it need to get its point across, and so Dark Dncer stepped back up to the microphone, and the second verse began. “Candle on the table, picture on the wall, some mare’s on the sofa but that’s not all. If I’m not mistaken, and I’m sure I’m right, somepony else is here tonight.” Once again, the gang vocal chorus occured. “Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!” Apparently realizing that Dark Dancer had done the same thing earlier, Audio Screech launched into a steel guitar solo. The solo consisted of several slides and that Ragtime feel that was so prevalent on Steel Guitar Rag. However, this time, Audio used his left wing for a lot more, plucking at the strings rapidly to keep up with the frenzied pace of the song. Once again, the solo was short, so the next verse came in quickly. “Chicken’s in the bread pan, pickin’ out dough, Granny does your dog bite, ‘No child no’. Hurry up colts, don’t fool around, Come to the parlor and get yourself down!” “Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout Posey Red!” Once again, Dark Dancer launched into an impromptu solo. It wasn’t too dissimilar from his first one, but he was plucking a lot more. In fact, several double stops appeared in this solo, which Wills Weigh reacted positively to. ‘Go at it Dancer,’ was soon to be immortalized in wax. The solo ended with simple chord changes playing over Wills Weigh’s stomping, which wavered out into the distance. “Candle’s burin’, the fire’s real low Somepony says, ‘you gotta go’. But then she whispers, gentle and light ‘Don’t forget to come next Saturday night’.” “Posey Red! Posey Red! I’m plum fool ‘bout’ Posey Red!” Wills Weigh finally realized for himself that these ponies weren’t being asked to take solos, so he pocked up his fiddle again and played one for himself. Sawing on the fiddle like he did at the beginning of the recording, he recorded a frantic fiddle solo, just as short as the other solos. “Woo!” He said, lurching forward, as the stomping devolved into a light applause. The recording ended there, with the engineer coming out and declaring, “Ah think you’ve found yourself a hit!” “We already did have one,” Wills Weigh said. “But Ah think this’ll be even bigger than Steel Guitar Rag. After all, this doesn’t resemble earth pony music at all!” Wills Weigh winced. “Now, Ah wouldn’t say that… the song’s got a bounce, influenced by Jazz as much as the other songs Ah’ve heard this year. Ah’d call it a bit more of a… Southern Swing.” The engineer waved him off. “Whatever, Ah’m gettin’ this stamped. Ah hope it’ll be as good as it should be.” Wills Weigh turned to the rest of his group. “What else should we do?” he asked. To the surprise of nopony, Posey Red was a massive hit. But that was years ago. Wills Weigh stumbled into his house drinking his 3rd cider that day. Sure he’d drank them all in an hour, but he felt fine. After Posey Red became a smash, Wills Weigh say and waited for his time to come. The longer he waited, the worse it got. Every day, the visceral scene flashed through his head, and every day, he had to drink it away. He dreaded the day his time came. Wills Weigh didn’t even know if Poppy O’Daisy was still alive, but he didn’t want to risk it. He drank down his cider and tried to push the memory aside. In a frenzied rush to get his head clear, he stumbled over to the radio he had in his house, the one in his bedroom. He flicked it on with a wing. Commercial, figures. Suddenly Wills Weigh remembered something, the Gentleponies had a concert today! He pulled himself off the ground and dug through to try and find something to make himself presentable. Then, he looked at the clock… it was already half past starting time. It was no use. He dragged himself back into his room. The radio was blaring out some song. Adding his now-empty bottle to the ever-growing pile of empty glass bottles, he pushed his muzzle down into his pillow. A throbbing headache threatened to destroy him from the inside-out, but Wills Weigh persevered. He listened intently to the radio to try and get the pain expunged, but then he heard a familiar song. “Dahlia! Dahlia! I’m plum fool ‘bout Daliah!” …How long had it been since he heard that?
Roll ‘Em SeaView Online500 SongsRoll ‘Em SeaCanterlotite Harmony Teases Second Concert The notable member of Canterlot elite, Harmony, has declared that he’s going to do his famous Spirituals to Swing concerts again for the second consecutive year. They will be held at Celestia Hall, as the last ones were. “We’re going to go bigger and better,” he declared to the press. “We’re going to have your favorite acts, and some up-and-comers.” Harmony has declined further statement on the matter, but knowing his standing, these concerts are likely to happen. He did tell the press that he’d hopefully have a playbill out for the public “sooner rather than later”. “What we doing out there, Sea?” A plump navy blue earth pony looked out to the stage. Anyone who saw this pony would instantly think he’d be able to fill up a room with his powerful voice, which wasn’t far off. On the stage, Rosebud Thorns was currently putting on her big set about the old Gospel music. The pony got invited to a revival of the Spirituals to Swing show Harmony had put on the year prior, and he was with his musical partner, Sea Lodestone. The sea blue earth pony responded. Sleek, cool, collected, and panicking, but not showing it. “Well, Big Turner I’ve come with nothing, so I’m just going to play a Boogie-Woogie pattern. How many floating lyrics you got?” “Plenty. ‘I got a mare, who lives up on the hill’, ‘it’s all right baby, flying far behind’, ‘I see a train, gotta be ten cars long’. I’ve got plenty a old lyrics just lyin’ around.” A long sigh followed. “That should work just fine then.” “Now Sea, what we callin’ this thing?” “I don’t know, but we better come up with something quick because we’re on in a few minutes,” Sea Lodestone stated, frantically lifting his head to check out Rosebud Thorns to see how close she was coming to finishing her song. “Call it after the first floating lyric I’m gonna use. It’s Alright Baby!” Big Turner shouted, voice reverberating backstage. Just then, a voice came from the stage. “That was Rosebud Thorns! Next up, Sea Lodestone and Big Turner!” Sea gave another long sigh. “It’s Alright Baby it is then.” “Alright, let’s go!” The two ponies travelled onto the stage as Rosebud thorn took herself backstage. A piano was already set up, which was a given because those things didn’t move. There was only one microphone, positioned in such a way as to catch as much of the vocal as possible. Now, it only really picked up one direction, but Big Turner was ready to make that one direction count. “Hello there, everypony. I’m here with my musical partner, Sea Lodestone and we’re gonna play some tunes for ya. Now, ya probably aren’t gonna recognize this one, because it’s brand new. I like ta call it, It’s Alright Baby!” Big Turner decided not to input that the song was literally something the two of them came up a few minutes ago. “Take it away Sea!” Sea started playing an almost percussive rhythm on the piano, outlining some simple chords at a frantic pace. With one hoof in the bass, and the other dancing on the melody, it was pure Boogie-Woogie piano. However, Big Turner felt something was a little off about the rhythm. The notes seemed a little off from what he was used to. Instead of the gap he usually expected going from the one to the and, a shuffle, the notes were equally spaced. Big Turner was thrown off momentarily, but a true shouter never lost their rhythm. He started clicking his hoof on the floor, attempting to match the rhythm of the piano to his singing. Click, click, click, click… There it was. Confident, he sang the first line. “It’s alright babe! Flyin’ far behind!” Sea Lodestone looked up at Big Turner, worried that he screwed up the timing. Big Turner looked back and smiled, letting Sea know that he was locked in and ready to go. “It’s alright babe! Flyin’ far behind!” The song continued like that, Sea’s frantic piano playing, backed with Big Turner’s shout-singing. Soon, Big Turner couldn’t think of new floating lyrics, he knew more, but he’d forgotten some, so as a last consolation, he threw in one more. “Roll em’ Sea, show ‘em what I mean!” Big Turner pulled away from the microphone, keeping his hoof taps going, and said, “On the piano, Sea Lodestone!” There was a polite applause, and Sea launched into a solo. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Boogie-Woogie solos, playing scales over the chords each phrase belonged to, but it was vigorous, full of energy, and as Sea climbed higher and higher up the piano, it was hard to deny just how catchy the solo was. Eventually, Sea ran out of steam, though not after delivering a fantastic solo, so Big Turner turned back to the microphone. “Roll em’ Sea! Show ‘em what I mean!” Big Turner made sure his last stomp was a loud one, indicating that his part was over, which Sea responded to by throwing in another few chord changes, before doing a glissando and ending the song there. Dead silence permeated the room for a second, before the crowd erupted into cacophony. Nopony had quite heard a song like that before. Big Turner and Sea Lodestone didn’t do a shuffle, what was up with them? That was something new and different. Not everypony liked new and different, but most could agree that the song was really bucking catchy. The crowd applauded, and Big Turner and Sea Lodestone went backstage, preparing to wipe out and return home when the show was over. Big Turner and Sea Lodestone casually watched the rest of the show from the backstage. The show concluded with the Good Mare Sextet, who delivered a fantastic set, as usual, concluding with Flying Home. Coming backstage, Good Mare waved at Sea, who waved back in response. “We sure put on a good show there, Sea,” Big Turner affirmed. “It was only one song, and I screwed up the solo,” Sea responded. “Nothin’ ta worry about. The audience liked it.” “But this show was Harmony’s show, I don’t know what he’ll think,” Sea countered, attempting to keep his composure. “Well, speak a Nightmare Moon…” Big Turner offhoofedly described, noticing an orange unicorn emanating power walk backstage. Sea almost made an audible yelp. “Ah, Sea Lodstone, Big Turner, I have something to discuss,” Harmony articulated. “Follow me.” Harmony quietly took the two ponies aside. “That… song you played. That wasn’t in the script,” Harmony stated. “I’m sorry! We came up with it on the spot,” Sea responded. “Sorry for ruining the show!” “On the contrary, you two elevated it. That wasn’t a shuffle.” Big Turner and Sea Lodestone looked at Harmony awkwardly as they waited for the stallion to finish. “It was something else… something, unique. I’d like to record what it is you were doing.” “On… record?” Sea asked. “Where else?” “Sounds great an’ all, but where are we recording this thing?” Big Turner asked. “Right here in Canterlot of course… just spare a week. I will get you recording.” Harmony left the two stallions. Curious, the two decided they could stay a little long to see what other ideas Harmony had cooked up. The two left the building, and went to find some place to stay before they could leave Canterlot. After sleeping wherever they could rest their heads for a week, Sea and Big Turner were prepared to meet with Harmony. The only problem was finding him. “Where could that devil be?” Big Turner asked, trotting down the street looking for whatever him and Sea could scrounge up. They didn’t have a place to stay, and no money to really stay anywhere, so they were pretty much stuck. “Well, he did say he’d record us. Maybe he’s at a recording studio somewhere?” Sea reassured, though he was unsure if he believed it himself. As if realizing his uncertainty, he added, “I’m tired and I just want to get this out of the way. Keep an eye out, okay?” Big Turner looked around the streets, trying to find anything that looked like a record studio. “Ah-hah!” Big Turner exclaimed, stopping suddenly. “Did you find anything?” Sea asked. “A recording studio? No. But, I found a record store!” “Turner… how does that help us in the slightest?” Sea challenged, stopping in his tracks. “Well, it ain’t a recording studio, but they could have some info on where Harmony might be recordin’.” Big Turner replied. Sea rolled his eyes. “Well, we might as well check it out. Can’t be worse than nothing.” The pair entered the record store and the bell on the door gave a little ding. The pegasus at the counter was busy reading a magazine when she jumped at the sound of the bell. She exuded a carefree attitude, a love of music, a love of all music at that. It was almost as if she just wanted to have fun, and was living her best life. “Hello there… sorry I have no clue who you are,” she blurted. “Given you’re customers, we have the Spirituals to Swing 939 concert under the ‘live vinyls’ section.” “You been gettin’ a lot a orders for that one?” Big Turner asked, interested. He soon realized he made a massive mistake. “Have I ever! It’s the hottest selling record on the shelves! I can barely keep it restocked, and it’s such tedious work too, so boring. Those things fly off the shelves faster than they get printed! Everypony’s coming in, saying they want to start ‘a Swing group’ or ‘a Boogie-Woogie act’, that record is going to change the music industry, I swear. Ponies cannot get enough of that album!” the shopkeeper rambled. Sea nodded his head. “Okay then… that’s not why we’re here. We’re here because we played on that record…” he began, cautiously. “You did? Would you mind signing a few copies?” “That’s not—“ Sea attempted to correct, but Big Turner butted in. “Gladly!” The two spent the next several minutes signing the Spirituals to Swing records, with Sea Lodestone growing increasingly impatient. “I think that was the last one!” the shopkeeper declared. “Can I say what I was trying to say before Turner roped me into this?” Sea admonished, completely and utterly miffed. “Sure! What were you going to say?” Sea finally let out a sigh. He blinked slowly, pawed the ground, and began slowly for the third time, “Do you know anything about the Benny Goodman Sextet’s Flying Home?” “That was a real hot record last year! Of course I know!” “Do you know where it was recorded?” The mare rubbed her hoof thoughtfully under her chin. “I believe it was recorded right up the road, it’s just Canterlot Recording Studios, it’s where that label records all their stuff.” “Is the label headed by Harmony?” Sea asked, lowering his head, finally happy to make progress. “Nopony knows what that unicorn gets up to. He appears precisely when he wants to and leaves without a trace.” “Sounds about right,” Sea mumbled. “But I mean, can’t hurt ta try can it?” Big Turner added, listening in on the conversation the whole time. “I suppose it can’t,” Sea conceded. Canterlot Recording Studios was nothing special. This resonated clearly with Big Turner and Sea Lodestone as they entered the studio. After all, that was what most of their gigs were. There was a piano, a microphone and a recording dock, all primed and ready to go. In the adjacent room, through a pane of glass sat Harmony, magically paging through a newspaper he seemed simultaneously interested in and bored with. A cursory glance up from the newspaper notified Harmony of what he should do, and so he got up. Walking from the adjacent room and into the main recording room came Harmony, imposing and larger than life, as per usual. “Gentlestallions,” he began. “As promised, you will be recording.” Big Turner and Sea Lodestone nodded. “The engineer… isn’t here right now. However, I know enough.” “Shall we begin?” Sea Lodestone asked. “Don’t see why not,” Big Turner responded. “1, 2, 3, 4…” Big Turner counted. Once again, Sea Lodestone started to play a very simple Boogie-Woogie piano pattern. He made extra sure that the song was not swung so that he wouldn’t lapse into the obvious Swing beat that was so prevalent in music he’d heard. Big Turner listened for a second and then started clicking his hoof to the rhythm as well, before launching into the first verse. He only vaguely remembered the floating lyrics he used, so he threw in some new ones for a little extra decorations. He did; however, remember the first one he sang. “It’s alright babe, flyin’ far behind!” He shouted into the microphone with all the strength he could muster. It was, after all, his job as a Blues shouter to do just that. Despite this, him and Sea had been sleeping wherever they could spare a nap for the past few days. The ponies were tired. But, tiredness shouldn’t prevent an entertainer from performing his very best. “It’s alright babe, flyin’ far behind!” Sea Lodestone switched up the chord as Big Turner prepared to land on it with his final phrase. “I know you, and you know that you’re mine.” The song continued, somewhat less vigorously than it was performed just a short week ago, but with as much energy as the performers could muster. Even the energetic Big Turner was losing steam. Though, Big Turner did certainly remember one lyrics he used, and shouted it energetically. “Roll ‘em Sea, show them what I mean!” Sea launched into another piano solo. He danced on the keys, performing several stylistic flourishes while he kept his Boogie-Woogie bass steady. It was a little shorter than the one from the concert, but it was still a vigorous piano solo, complimented with Big Turner keeping time so Sea didn’t lose his place. Big Turner, bouncing, prepared to conclude the song. Pulling out the last figment of his energy he started shouting into the mic. “Bye, bye! Bye, bye!” He sang those same lyrics, growing in intensity, a crescendo to the ending, louder and more raucous with each repetition. It got to the point where he was practically straining his voice to the maximum. All that had to end at some point, so naturally, he sang the lyric he knew best. “Roll ‘em Sea, show them what I mean!” Big Turner stopped clicking his hoof on the ground, and Sea took that as meaning ending, so he stopped. Harmony trotted over and took a look at the disc they were recording on. “Stallions, that was not the concert version.” “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, and Turner probably is too, cut us some slack!” Sea pleaded. “It is; however, a perfectly… serviceable record. I can try and pitch it to the stations.” “What for?” Big Turner asked. “Exposure, Turner. If people listen to your music, they will buy it,” Harmony emphasized. “I mean, you could use the concert version,” Sea pitched. “Turner, the fool, got a ton of those signed at the record store across the street earlier.” Suddenly, Harmony got fire in his eyes. The stallion was usually scary, though usually in an unintentional way. This owed to his powerful stance and vague connections. This time; however, he had an idea. An idea that would either work very well, or very poorly, but one he was eager to try. “Give me another week,” Harmony estimated. “You two may return home.” “We have no way to get back,” Sea mentioned. Harmony slowly went into the other room and trotted out carrying a sack of bits. He threw it at the two stallions’ feet. “Take the train. Split that.” With that, Harmony left the building. Sea and Big Turner looked at each other. This was easily going to cover travel costs. The bell to a certain record store rang as a powerful stallion walked into the building. He slowly looked all around, surveying the store and the vast array of recorded sound it contained. Harmony walked up to the pegasus behind the counter and slowly lowered his hoof onto the magazine she was reading. This caused the pegasus in question to look up. “Hello there, uh… Mr. Harmony. What would you like today?” “I have heard that two particular stallions signed all the records of my show here.” The pegasus thought for a second, before perking up. “Oh! The Spirituals to Swing stuff! Yeah, Big Turner and Sea Lodestone stopped by earlier. There’s only a couple records left. It’s a miracle there’s that many, honestly.” “I’d like them,” Harmony stated. “What could you want one for?” the pegasus inquired. “You know the… let’s say, ‘new’ technology? The radio?” “Oh, yeah! Admire them, earth ponies no less, for repurposing those old wartime stations and transmitting music across long distances. That tech has gotta be years old at this point. I’m shocked it took this long to do something with. Like, isn’t the gift of music something everyone should have? Why not utilize tech earlier? I mean—“ Harmony raised his hoof to silence her and stated, “That is besides the point right now. I recorded with those stallions, and their music is serviceable for radio play.” “So what do you want the signed copies for?” the pegasus inquired. “I want to persuade a few stations to play Roll ‘Em Sea… by giving them the signed records.” “How will that persuade these stations?” “They can do a sort of… giveaway with them. I am sure they will appreciate any audience boom that might bring.” Harmony disclosed. The pegasus didn’t think that sounded quite ethical, but when Harmony spoke, most ponies listened. Rarely did he speak so much, so he must have some sort of plan, she almost couldn’t imagine him not having one. “Take them.” “So you’re telling me that you’ve got some records you want us to play?” Harmony carefully laid the few signed vinyls he had on the DJ’s desk, alongside something else, a pressing of the single version. It proudly bore the name Roll ‘Em Sea. After Harmony had processed it, he had realized, infuriatingly, that the hoof clicks didn’t come in. However; he couldn’t use the Spirituals to Swing version because it wasn’t a single. “Yes, what else?,” Harmony stated. The DJ had to put a couple pieces together, but realized that Roll ‘Em Sea was a lyric in It’s Alright Baby. They were probably the same song. “You know, earth pony music isn’t really popular right now. This one’s Boogie-Woogie if I’m not mistaken. We have Swing, we don’t have that.” “I know,” Harmony emphasized. “My concert; however, is.” The DJ raised an eyebrow at Harmony. “I don’t follow.” Harmony once again lifted up the vinyls with his magic. “That’s what these are for.” The DJ still looked slack-jawed at Harmony, who put down a small stack of Spirituals to Swing vinyls. Harmony let out a noise that vaguely resembled a ‘hmph’. He continued, “If we keep this… under the table, so to speak, I’ll let you give those records out for free. Play Roll ‘Em Sea, and you can, don’t… and I have friends in high places.” Harmony didn’t mean to imply that he had ties with notorious Equestrian criminal organizations, but the DJ certainly did. “Right away… sir!” Harmony remained stoic, only giving a nod of acknowledgment. “You will gain popularity from this,” Harmony said. “Ponies like free stuff.” The DJ nodded. “This run of songs is almost over, hold on.” The DJ turned to the microphone on the table, and sent his voice around the general Canterlot area. “We’ve gotten a visit from the notorious Canterlot businessman, Harmony…” he began. Harmony had already left. Big Turner and Sea Lodestone sat down at a local bar, they were scheduled to play here in a few minutes. However, they’d seen acts just like theirs all night. Boogie-Woogie became a massive thing, and it seemed that everywhere they looked, they’d find at least one act performing upbeat piano songs with a steady backbeat. The atmosphere was punctuated with noisy patrons, your usual drunks, and musicians scheduled to play. “Sea, why d’ ya’ think Boogie-Woogie’s so popular?” Big Turner asked. “Well, I was reading the news recently,” Sea responded. “Though, come to think of it, this news is a couple years old. “Apparently, all the musicians are still on strike.” “What?” Big Turner demanded. “How can that be?” “Calm down, Turner. Allegedly, there were some sketchy business dealings, and musicians were starting to question not getting paid for their music. So, they all went on strike. They’ve been like this since 939.” “That was when Harmony’s album came out,” Big Turner observed. “Wait, did he have somethin’ to do with this?” Sea Lodestone approximated a shrug. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I could learn of any number of things Harmony has done and it still wouldn’t surprise me.” Big Turner watched the mare behind the piano, singing about the ‘Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy’ with what appeared to be two other singers. He took a sip of his cider, savoring the taste of week-old apples. “You’re awfully calm, Turner,” Sea mentioned. He hadn’t ordered a drink, he was too obsessed with being on the straight and narrow. “Gotta save all my energy for the stage! ‘Course I’m calm!” The two sat in silence for another moment, before Big Turner once again spoke up. “Guessin’ the singers went on fine then?” Sea Lodestone nodded. “All of them learned how to play the piano. I’d wager that’s why Boogie-Woogie hasn’t died.” “Good thing I’ve got the best piano player right here!” Big Turner exclaimed, though quietly enough to not drown out the cacophony of other noise. The three singers went to the center and took a bow, lowering their bodies to the ground. “Looks like we’re up,” Big Turner remarked. “And now, performing their top ten hit Roll ‘Em Sea, Big Turner and Sea Lodestone!” Big Turner smiled at Sea Lodestone. “Come on, let’s knock it outta the park.” Sea Lodestone nodded. Thankfully, the musicians’ strike didn’t go on for too long. A few weeks after Big Turner and Sea played at the bar, the radios had started to play music again. The labels apparently realized it was free advertising, though there might’ve been some outward influence that Big Turner was very familiar with. He heard firsthand the single version of Sea Lodestone’s and his performance. The hoof clicks hadn’t come in, which meant he just had to try extra hard this time. Big Turner looked through the pane of glass separating him and the pony in charge of this ordeal. It had been 15 years, sure, but he still had it in him… and so did Sea. Big Turner chuckled, and looked over at the upright piano situated in the corner of the room. It was merely one instrument among several other ones, but still, he’d started this with Sea, and he was going to see it through. He only had a few words to say. “Roll ‘em Sea, show ‘em what I mean.” Sea smiled, wrinkles more prominent, but a beaming smile nonetheless. Sea started the song off with piano, a simpler structure, but one more suited to this brand new style of quick and fast music. Slower than Boogie-Woogie, but if it didn’t have the same vibe. The drummer also began playing, as did the saxophonist. The drummer made sure to hit the snare as loud as possible. “Get outta that bed, wash your hooves and mane!” The song remained rather static, but Big Turner felt the song move. Sea Lodestone kept up his piano pattern, and Big Turner smiled as he continued. “Get outta that bed, wash your hooves and mane!” Sure he was tired, it wasn’t like his living conditions had improved drastically. Him and Sea still played bars, but he was just happy to finally be recording something again. “When you get into the kitchen, get up and go insane.” The song continued much like that for the rest of it, baring one piano solo from Sea Lodestone, a rather minimalist solo that made sure to complement the song’s added instrumentation. Then, he got to the final line. “I said shake, rattle, and roll!” The song cut off right then, and Big Turner went over to Sea Lodestone. “Great piano playin’, as usual.” He wanted to say more, but right then, the person in charge of this Crystal Records session came out to same something to the band performing. “Boys, I think you have a hit.” Big Turner and Sea Lodestone looked at each other, 15 years in the making… but finally, a big hit they could call their own. Author's Note Roll ‘Em Pete by Big Joe Turner and Pete Johnson. Now is a good time to mention that this story will not be in chronological order. It’ll jump around. This story is also not meant to be a complete historical recollection of any events in Rock music and should not be treated as such, it’s merely trying to apply a story to a song and a face. However, as much as I hate to say it, these ponies are (very loosely) based on real people, so keep that in mind as you read the rest.
