Niksubvya Family Prodigy Plays at Midnight Garden

Categories: Entertainment Reviews, Up-and-Coming Stars, Quick Reports

Menarka Music Review • 4 Kaiakhin of Poràkol 1903 (34 Poràkol)

Khadein tal Tasya, Music Editor

Everyone knows about mythical ksibja players who could calm storms, overthrow tyrants, and restore the dead to life simply through their command of the instrument. In these stories, such talented players usually come from humble beginnings before their talent raises them. They are orphans, beggars, and thieves; it is the ksibja that transforms them.

Seven-year-old Aneti of the Niksubva family is well on her way to becoming a real-life version of these stories. An illegitimate daughter of the late Adviser Salus (also known as Nitannyi for you Tveshi readers), whose tragic death shook millions earlier this monsoon season, Aneti’s identity was kept unconfirmed by the family — presumably to avoid scandal.

The child’s extraordinary command of the ksibja was put on display last night at Midnight Garden, where hundreds of upper-class men and women from all over the region gathered to hear her play.

Aneti of the Niksubvya family selected a heartwarming rendition of traditional Narahji pieces, including several opera solos for the ksibja. Menarka Music Review was issued two complimentary tickets to the event.

The evening began with a technical rendition of “By the Ivis at Midnight,” a ballad written in the 14th century by a soldier’s Narahji paramour. While this piece is commonly vocal with accompaniment on the bowed sama, Aneti’s ksibja expertise conveyed the heart-wrenching emotions without leaving one wondering why she didn’t hire a vocalist. The true jewel of the evening, however, was her performance of the ksibja solo from A Night, Winged, which eludes many musicians with much more experience. “Tribute to the Dawn,” while not as demanding as Aneti’s best pieces, seemed rushed by comparison.

Unfortunately, I cannot say that many of the others there enjoyed it. Sabiyyi ital Maiya in The People commented last week on the decadence of the leisured classes, what with their gross excesses in the mood bars and excessive human interface modifications that lack all taste and decency. She writes,

What is our society coming to when the best among us sink into drug use and hyper-augment their bodies to the point of absurdity? Synthetic mood drugs originated as an alternative to the more damaging intoxicants, hallucinogens, and narcotics on the market, but their supposed safety has increased substance abuse and made the new drug lords richer than the monarchy. Personal augmentation should not serve aristocratic whims for wings or tails, but the far more pertinent issue of human-technology integration that will smooth our relationship with present-day augmented reality and computing. Automaton bodies should find their use in mine shafts and the vacuum of the High Wilds, not in the bedroom where the sympathetic connection between a machine drone and the individual leads to self-fornication without any sense of the sanctity of the natural sexual experience.

Her statement accurately describes the atmosphere of the room. Most individuals in attendance took so many drugs that I doubt they remember the titles of Aneti’s pieces, let alone how her musical skill exceeds most musicians three times her age. Only myself, Namgyatzi (the nuamë nuaf iča), and a handful of other individuals remained sober enough to contemplate the true meaning of the performance. Just thinking about this child’s potential after she is old enough for augmentation gives me chills.

I only hope that Aneti’s family displays her in a much more appropriate venue for someone of such brilliance next time.

Khadein tal Tasya