For the Record (Bellosh & Rackenhammer)

[Bellosh]

 

".....So always remember that anypony who says you can’t or shouldn’t reinvent yourself is wrong! Don’t let any neighsayers stand between you and success! To stand out from the rest of the herd, you can’t be content with passively using your talents day-to-day. Real success means forging a fresh, BOLD identity. Success means not letting your old self take charge of your future destiny. And above all else, success means never settling for the same status as everypony else! Remember those things, and one day you too will earn the fame and fortune that ambitious hard-workers like yourselves... rightfully deserve."

That marked the end of Svengallop’s speech, prompting a storm of applause from his audience. Invited to speak at a Canterlot seminar for business entrepreneurs, the executive used his time to impart his unconventional wisdom and describe his past successes in the music industry. Naturally, Sven left out everything that involved his burned bridges, life dissatisfaction, and succumbing to greed. The audience needed an inspiring story, after all.

Since Svengallop wasn’t paid to answer audience questions, he quickly left the stage once the clapping of hooves ended. Just one quick jaunt through the majestic lobby of the luxury hotel where the seminar was taking place, and the stallion should be on his way to grabbing lunch at an exclusive street cafe.....

[Blueblood]

 

Escape was not to be so easy for Svengallop today; for today, the intrepid journalist Earth Writer was determined to get his interview!

 

Oh, it had been a lively chase, these past few days.  Not that the journalist's normal modus operandi involved stalking his prey like a griffon on safari over the Unyasi plains.  Usually, he preferred to ask politely, and most ponies were willing to talk to him.  Svengallop, on the other hand, had been hard to even ask, with all requests being filed through assistants who sent him form letter of rejection.  This had only served to goad the unicorn to more direct action, and sour an already unsympathetic pre-disposition towards the music executive.

 

To the Canterlot reporter, Sven represented much of what was just plain wrong in the commodification of art.  As a member of the Bohemian Club, Earth promoted the principles of creative self-expression, and was inevitably saddened when he saw it buried under the gilding of over-production.  But besides this principle, there was something else about the producer pony, something Earth couldn't quite name, that put him off.  Maybe it was the air of inflated self-importance about him, though Earth had known many an amateur with the same kind of self-opinion without amassing any hostility.  What was it about this pony in particular that got on one's nerves so much?

 

Watching the speech itself gave little clue to the reporter, only solidifying the impression.  Not that he stayed to the end; he had to retreat early to set up his ambush in the lobby.  Sneaking out as the last sentences rang out in applause, the journalist cantered over to the stage door, pen and notebook held at the ready for when Svengallop emerged.

 

"'scuse me sir."  Earth Writer seemed to spring out in front of Sven, tipping his hat.  "Earth Writer, Canterlot Chronicle. I'll have a column in tomorrow's paper about you, so if I could have a few minutes of your time..."  The key, as his journalistic mentors had taught him, was not to frame it as a question, but in the form of a statement that a story was already going to happen, whether or not the subject gave input.  It made the risk of refusal harder to face.  Also, if the target keeps walking, the reporter must match his pace.  Don't let him get away...

[Bellosh]

 

By now, nothing was new about the sight of a reporter getting in Svengallop’s face. As a matter of fact, it was quite a pleasant one. Having the attention of the press meant that Sven was doing his job right. Sure, the media was primarily interested in the affairs of Sven’s world-famous clientele, but as far as the Manehattanite was concerned, he was the sole reason why anypony cared to talk about his clients in the first place.

These last few weeks had brought an increase in the amount of reporters orbiting around Svengallop. Ever since the talent manager broke off professional ties with his former client, Countess Coloratura, everypony has wanted to get the scoop on what happened behind-the-scenes. Sven kept his sanitized story the same to all; that the Countess’s career was undergoing a transitional phase, and that she didn’t require Sven’s services while keeping out of the public limelight. The conniving stallion always reminded reporters to respect Countess Coloratura’s privacy during this delicate time, shaming those scrupulous writers who sought to uncover the Countess’s side of the story. The less ponies who knew the whole story, the better.

While diligent reporters such as Earth Writer made for extremely useful stenographers, they won’t keep Svengallop from getting lunch of schedule. Craning his neck up to showcase his elite status, the suit-wearing stallion maintained his purposeful pace as he ever-so graciously indulged Mr. Writer’s fancies. “I assume you’re here for a statement on why I no longer represent Countess Coloratura...” Sven arrogantly declared without the hint of a question, taking no heed of the hotel doorponies even as they opened the ornate door to the outside...

[Blueblood]

"No sir, your statement on that subject is on the record already.  And you know what they say about assumptions."  Earth Writer's quip came with the response time of a tennis professional warming up against a talented amateur, but the glibness disguised a certain amount of apprehension.  This was going to be no easy task; Svengallop's whole career might be described as media and publicity management, and it was the reporter's task not to let himself be managed.

 

At any rate, not managed like Coluratura.  The stallion almost had to admire Sven's tactics, if Earth hadn't maintained a few connections to Ponyville, he would not have heard much in the way of what actually went down when manager and musician split.  As it was, what he'd heard was pretty shocking, though he was prepared to believe it.  Svengallop did give one the first impression of a pony who wouldn't have time for anypony but Number One.  That was hardly sufficient to produce journalism immune to a libel suit, however, so here he was, trying to get a more detailed view of the stallion's character.

 

"I'm here to get a more detailed look at the way you do business.  Seems to me there's not a lot of ponies who quite grasp the realities of your situation."  Earth trotted alongside Sven without breaking a sweat, noting in shorthand his attitude towards the doorponies.  One could tell a lot about a pony, they way he dealt with paid help.

[Bellosh]

 

Less than 30 seconds into the interview, and Svengallop already was regretting giving the time of day to a smart-alec. Whoever this no-name Earth Writer was, he wasn’t likely to show much more deference to his subject. If this journalist was willing to make wisecracks now, who knows what sort of hardball games he’d play later? In other words, Mr. Writer could very well be a publicist’s worst nightmare.

But alas, to back down now would show weakness, so Sven grudgingly played Earth Writer’s little “game”. “Let me inform you now,” the earth pony momentarily stopped in his tracks; “That it would be such a shame if I refuse to let the Canterlot Chronicle interview my stars in the future.” Sven’s smirking face closely hovered in front of Mr. Writer’s as a further show of intimidation; “I’m sure you’d find it awkward explaining to your editor why I chose to blacklist their little two-bit paper, wouldn’t you say?”

Later on, as the two stallions walked down the street, Earth Writer clarified that he was writing an article about Svengallop’s business operation. Since things at this point still didn’t look too rosy, Sven responded with a disinterested sigh. “Ugggh, very well. What questions do you have about the Spotlight Talent Agency?”

[Blueblood]

 

Oh, cute.  Svengallop wanted to play hardball with the Fourth Estate.  To be fair to the publicist, his contact with the media probably did mostly consist of two-bit music journals that lived or died from their insider connections, not the Great Dailies.  Given that the Chronicle's circulation was second only to the Manehattan Times, and had been playing the game of Public Opinion for about a century longer than Sven.... well, Earth Writer had to admire the stallion's colossal hubris, as bold a work of art if nothing else.

 

He himself played it cool, responding to the violation of personal space with only a raised eyebrow.  "Oh, I don't know.  That's news that will fill a column as well as anything."  Heck, even the front page on a very slow news day.  Earth could see the headlines now: BLACKMAIL BY BLACKLIST: The secret reigns of terror in the bowels of the music industry.  Not to mention the fact that refusing to talk to a paper absolved them of any responsibility to report your side of the story fairly.

 

In short, the reporter was fairly certain that, bluff and bluster aside, Svengallop would give him his interview.  "I'd like to start with the beginning of the process and work from there.  What is it that you're looking for when you're scouting your talent?"  Earth Writer was proud that he had not let a single soupcon of sarcasm into that last word, and the truth was, the journalist was willing to give him the benefit of a doubt in that regard.  The first act the publicist had brought before the world was, in the Bohemian Club member's opinion, a polished wad of already-chewed bubblegum, but there was no denying that Coloratura was the Real Deal.  Overproduced or not, she carried her performances with an equal amount of aplomb.

[Bellosh]

 

Welp, so much for the threat of blacklisting. Earth Writer would not be easily cowed by Svengallop’s garden-variety tricks. He’d have to use the big guns straight off the bat! “Hmmph,” snorted the earth pony as he backed away from Mr. Writer’s face; “Just be careful that you don’t get accused of libel or anything of that nature. But I trust a responsible journalist like yourself knows how to avoid getting into legal trouble, am I right?” Surely the most intrepid reporter would have to realize that if they get sued by a rich pony, even if the reporter came out on top in the courtroom, the stress and legal costs from the trial and the inevitable appeals alone would ruin them.

At least Earth Writer’s first question happened to be bland, inoffensive, and unobjectionable. “What I look for are performers who can naturally electrify a crowd with their singing,” Svengallop proudly explained, heedless of the fact that a bag-carrying passerby had to duck out of the way to avoid colliding with the haughty talent manager. While the unfortunate mare ended up spilling the contents of her bag as a result, Sven seemed not to notice as he kept on walking and talking; “If somepony can’t manage that in a club or on the street, they’ve got no business being on my big stage. But if they can stand out from all the other dime-a-dozen musicians out there, then that gives me something to work with.”

[Blueblood]

Even with the big guns out, and Svengallop could produce no bigger than general libel, Earth was determined to show no weakness.  "No worries."  He replied without flinching.  "I can assure you now that we shall print the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  No subpoena required."

 

*And if that makes you squirm, I know I'm on the right track.*  Outward confidence aside, though, the journalist couldn't ignore the fact that his threat had real teeth to it.  The legal costs would indeed probably bankrupt him, and whether he could count on financial backing either from the Chronicle or the Bohemian Club was by no means certain.  It was a question, at the end of the day, whether he was willing to risk penury for the sake of his ideals and professional ethics.

 

In any case, once the interview started, Earth Writer seemed to back down from playing the hard game.  After all, he was genuinely interested in how this part of the music industry really worked, and while Svengallop's answers were doubtlessly biased, they were revelatory nonetheless.  "So, you're focus is upon audience engagement, rather than any especial qualities or features of music itself?  It seems at first sight that you'd be rather eclectic in terms of the genres of musicians you recruit, but all your work seems to hew to a certain style."  Covered in the same thick gloss, more like.  From what Earth could tell from his answer, Sven seemed to view musicians less as jewels for which he made a setting to show off, as much as mere canvases to show off his own work.

[Bellosh]

Unfortunately, even that final bit of friendly advice did nothing to shake Earth Writer. Either the journalist truly knew no fear, or he was just a very good actor. Whatever the answer, Svengallop guessed there was no further point in using intimidation tactics. With the sneer of an entitled business pony, the stallion turned away to proceed on his way, with the other stallion surely following.

As for the interview, Svengallop tsked tsked as Earth Writer tried to express the talent manager’s MO in words. The reporter had the right idea concerning Sven’s end results, but missing gaps still needed to be filled in. “You’re right about how I look for singers from every background; opera, theatre, country, rap... You name the scene, I’m willing to dig out all the muck in it for that one diamond in the rough. That one musician who can transcend their area of comfort to deliver a musical product that the mass market will gladly pay for!”

Sven chuckled for a brief moment as another thought came to him; “Of course, anyone I take on as a client would also need an appealing look from the get-go. Eh heh heh, nopony wants to spend big money on concert tickets just to look at some fatso all night, now do they?” Fat-shaming (among other forms of mockery) was never beyond the pale for the smirking executive.

[Blueblood]

While it was a relief for the reporter to get past the games of psychological one-upmanship and on to his actual job, Earth Writer couldn't say it was exactly peasant to talk to Svengallop.  There was just something... weasely about his language.  'Transcend their area of comfort to deliver a musical product the mass market will pay for,' Indeed.  Is that what they called selling out in the high echelons of the industry?

"It must be pretty terrible for you to sit through all that, if you regard most music as muck."  The unicorn couldn't quite keep the sarcasm at bay, as much as he tried to blunt his tone.  "And if you have a bias against full figures, all I can say is that you haven't looked into the opera scene all that closely.  Those chassis support pipes, as an engineering acquaintance of mine once said."

That bit of friendly business advice out of the way, Earth returned to his own work.  "I'm curious, though, as to how you got into the music industry in the first place.  It seems to me that the visual or theatrical arts would be as good, if not a better, fit for your talents."  Corporatization of art aside, the stallion had as simple an appreciation for pure spectacle as anypony, and Sven could do that very well.

[Bellosh]

Svengallop snorted with blatant contempt at Earth Writer’s feeble attempts at retorting. If only the journalist could listen to a song with Sven’s..  unique hearing, he wouldn’t be so quick to turn to sarcasm. “Hmmmph,” Sven asserted his superiority in all matters concerning industry knowledge; “Nopony cares about huge pipes if they can’t reach platinum on their own! And I can personally guarantee you that not one dramatic soprano has ever made a best-selling solo album, let alone filled every seat in a stadium their entire career.” Even if Mr. Writer could somehow pull an exception out of nowhere, he had no ability to argue against music industry trends and the market’s bias against full-figured musicians.

With a new question came another brief chance to make the reporter look like a bumbling fool. “If you would have done any pre-interview research beforehoof,” Svengallop gloated; “You would have already known that I first got my start in Bridleway production.” This wasn’t a subject that the stallion liked reminiscing about, as it always made him doubt himself and his life choices. If there was one thing Sven especially hated, it was the possibility that he actually might be wrong.

Crossing a cobblestone street without looking both ways first, the talent manager spoke with an undercurrent of entitlement; “I worked my flank off as an assistant stagehoof, yet I never got the recognition that I rightfully deserved! Heh... between you and me, I couldn't maintain the fabulous lifestyle I have now if I had been dumb enough to stay in theater...” Unnoticed by Sven was the fact that he caused a pony-drawn cart to get rear-ended when its hauler frantically stopped to avoid running down the two trotting stallions.....

[Blueblood]

"How many have the backing of genius behind them?"  Earth Writer was quicker with a reply than examples.  Musical audiences tended to be unkind to 'unmarketable' body types, though the unicorn was pretty sure that such things were self-fulfilling prophesies.  "If Rubarn's mares command the desires of thousands in the art galleries, and the prices of millions when a canvas goes up for auction, who's to say what opportunities are open for the bold?"  It was, of course, the height of flattery to compare the persnickety music exec to one of the master-painters of centuries past, but the verbal sweet-talk had a needle buried in the candy.  Cowards followed the public, brave ponies led it.

Even that much was not made easy by Sven's further jibes against Earth's competency, though admittedly the exchange was tit-for-tat by now.  "Oh, I only thought I ought to give you the courtesy of not printing your life story before hearing it from your own lips.  Besides, it's an unusual story, you have to admit; I honestly wanted to confirm it before I sent it to press.  The stories told sounded like an entirely different pony- Hi, look out!"  The reporter only saw the cart a split second before it was too late, and reached out to grab Sven by the collar and pull him back from a collision.  The sudden shift in momentum left them in almost as much of wreck as the rear-ended cart, landing both the stallions on their flanks.  

[Bellosh]

By not directly Svengallop’s claims about the marketability of dramatic sopranos, Earth Writer more or less conceded the debate, or so thought Sven. With the music executive not saying another word on the subject, he instead focused on- “What are you- GAAAAAAAH!” For no apparent reason, Mr. Writer yanked Sven and tossed themselves back towards the sidetrot they just left. Although the earth pony emerged unscathed... a ripping sound indicated to him that his clothes didn’t.

The moment Svengallop was back up on his hooves, the first thing he did was fume at Mr. Writer, showing off a tiny tear to the rear-end of his suit. “Now look what you’ve done, you clumsy buffon!!! This suit cost more bits than your yearly income! How am I supposed to be seen at the most exclusive street cafe in Canterlot when I got a HOLE IN MY CLOTHES???” Sven was virtually spitting in the reporter's face with the rabid way he mouthed off his would-be savior, heedless of the more serious accident scene right behind him.

[Blueblood]

Oh, this was just too rich!  Earth Writer was stunned, sitting upon the trotwalk and marveling at the astonishing lack of perspective shown by the music executive.  The journalist was perfectly willing to concede Svengallop's point upon the soprano, or really anything to do with the industry itself.  He now had decisive proof, in front of witnesses, no less, of just what kind of pony Sven was, and how much his point of view was really worth.

"Alright..."  The unicorn said calmly and slowly, picking himself up and dusting himself off.  "I would have thought you'd carry it through boldly and start a new trend.  In any case, you have solemn promise that I shan't lay a hoof on you again next time you walk into a busy street.  Now, if you'll excuse me for a minute, I need to take some time to be a good citizen."

This mostly consisted of going up to the cart drivers in the wreck and apologizing on Sven's behalf, as that pony certainly wasn't going to do it himself.  He called a guard over too, so that traffic could be re-directed.  Along the way, he picked up names and addresses, just to increase the source count for his upcoming article...

[Bellosh]

How preposterous to assume that torn clothing would lead to a new fashion trend! Svengallop wasn’t going to hang around and see Earth Writer portray himself as a good samaritan. No, it would back back to the hotel room and change into another untorn suit! It’d take ten minutes, but eventually Sven would be back walking down the street again towards the cafe. Maybe if the snooty earth pony was lucky, Mr. Writer would still be too busy helping those dumb cart-pullers - who’d idiotically gotten themselves into an accident somehow - to bother pestering the talent manager any further. Or even better, the journalist would be long gone from the scene.....

[Blueblood]

Earth Writer couldn't deny that he was distinctly tempted to just let Svengallop keep walking.  As it stood, he probably had enough copy for his editor to run a highly critical story of the music industry, though he would have to do some supplemental reporting from other sectors and interviews.  Nevertheless, after ten minutes, it was clear that his presence at the accident site was superfluous.  The guards had already cordoned off the spot and were re-directing traffic, while concerned citizens better attuned to heavy lifting were getting the carts jacked up and repaired.  Taking his leave after assisting with a stubborn axle nut, the reporter trotted back alongside Svengallop.

"Leaving so soon?  I was about to ask if you had anything more you wished to say."  Earth was glib enough, notebook back out as if nothing had happened.  "Would you say that you are at the height of your ambition, or do you wish to branch out?  Perhaps fund and run your own Bridleway productions?"

[Bellosh]

No such luck avoiding Earth Writer the second time around, unfortunately. At least the unicorn hadn’t made a smart-alec quip about how Svengallop was wearing a different suit. But that was the only positive to be found, for the journalist’s questions weren’t getting any smarter. “I’m a talent manager,” Sven haughtily explained with a hidden touch of hostility; “Not a producer. Talent management is where I made it big, and that’s where I intend to stay!” Honestly, the stallion had enough of Mr. Writer’s implicit suggestions that he should have stayed in theatre. What reason did Sven have to appease Mr. Writer by killing the golden goose?

Only a minute or so until they’d reach the cafe, ending such uncomfortable discussions.....

[Blueblood]

Earth Writer shrugged.  Honestly, it was a little disappointing.  Had Svengallop showed one iota of regret, it would have done quite a bit to soften the reporter's tone towards him.  The prospective article would have turned from a hostile denunciation of the modern Equestrian music industry, to a more personal tragedy centering on the all-to-common dilemma of survivability vs. integrity in the arts.  Not that Sven would have liked that any better in all probability, but there you go.

"Well, I suppose you're nowhere near retirement age.  But we all eventually get to the point where our occupations are something we put money into rather than get money out of, and the loss of profitability is offset by the prospect of never having to deal with a contradictory opinion about one's work."  The reporter was perhaps projecting here his own desire and plans to someday start writing books rather than work for a newspaper, but that day, like Sven's, would be a long way off if it ever came.

[Bellosh]

All throughout this farce of an interview, Svengallop perceived bits and pieces of Earth Writer’s agenda brewing beneath the surface. An agenda that seemed to claim that Sven’s occupation was illegitimate, false, meaningless. First the stallion was told his talents were not a good fit for the music industry, and then he kept being nudged toward taking up Bridleway work. Mr. Writer’s current attempt at giving out retirement advice served as the last straw for Sven.

“Now listen here you ignorant muckraker!” He turned around with eyes bulging out of his sockets; “If all you’re interested in is giving me career and retirement advice, then you might as well go pester somepony else for your articles! I’m HAPPY with the line of work I do, and I’ll SPEND my money however I please! Don’t EVER again presume you know BEST about what I should find rewarding in life!!!”

Svengallop didn’t immediately turn away from Earth Writer, as he needed a moment to catch his breath from that denial-laced outburst.

[Blueblood]

To give Svengallop credit, he wasn't so crude as actually to spray spittle on Earth Writer.  That didn't stop the reporter from disdainfully brushing his shirt collar, though.  The outburst demanded a reply, and an appropriate one sprang readily to the unicorn's lips.  "Methinks the magnate doth protest too much."  He quoted Avon Bard flatly, aware that this theatrical reference was just the slightest bit hackneyed.  But he was pretty sure he was right; nopony actually content with their life would fly off the handle like that at the suggestion of a career change or retirement plan.

It... was sad.  That was about all Earth could say about it.  Anger was now mixed with pity, as victimizer was revealed to be as much of a victim as any poor musician in an industry dominated by the notes of a bank rather than the notes of a song.  It was with that insight that he now planned to write his article.

In any case, there was little point in trying to get more copy.  The journalist felt that he had enough to give an accurate picture of Sven.  And if he was taken to court for it, well!  No shame in being a martyr for the truth.  "Well, sir, unless you have anything more you wish to say, I'll take my leave and let you eat lunch.  I don't want to take up too much of your valuable time..."

[Bellosh]

No further words were spoken to Earth Writer by Svengallop. Once he had composed himself, the flustered earth pony went off on his merry way toward the cafe. Most likely, Sven would forget all about the journalist and his uncomfortable questions once he had waiters to terrorize with his uncompromising demands. At least when the talent manager shouted in such situations, he got want he wanted. And so the interview came to an unceremonious close.

Meanwhile, the previously mentioned waiters huddled together to draw straws once the infamous customer reared his head. May Celestia have mercy on the unfortunate bloke who drew the short straw.....

 

*EXIT SVENGALLOP*

[Blueblood]

As for the reporter, he only sighed, shrugged, and put away his notebook.  "I pity your waitstaff...."  He muttered, heading off to a much more affordable eatery seven blocks down.  He mentally reviewed the interview in his head, trying out ideas for follow-ups.  Maybe a closer look into the theaters Sven used to work in, to flesh out that part of the story more...

In any case, the music mogul wasn't likely to remember the interview until the inevitable article, which he would probably hate.  Both pity and hostility are hard for the proud and vain to deal with, and Earth Writer was feeling both at the moment.  But that was for the future.  For now, Lunch.

*Finis*