The national Umbagollian Orchestra. Interviewed by Samara Jalàya. I’ve really been looking forward to meet the National Umbagollian Orchestra, a travelling troup of musicians who are performing everywhere they come. I was told they are practising near the Wandering Forests at this time and it was probably one of the only times they had time for an interview. At the day I arrive in the Forest the sky is dark and it’s raining continiously. When I just want to turn around to go home I hear a sound and walking the way it comes from I suddenly see the people I’m looking for: The National Umbagollian Orchestra. They are just having a break and I approach Fork Looseliver, the conductor who seems to be practising his conducting; the movements of his arms seem both dangerous and gracious. But before I can say anything to him, one of the orchestra members runs to me. It’s Mabel Sandso, a young man. Sandso: Please, don’t disturb him! Jalàya: Oh, excuse me, I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk to him. Sandso: You may not distract him in any way, miss. Anything you want to say to him can be said to me. Jalàya: Well, in that case... I wanted to interview you. I heard you are a very special orchestra. Sandso: We are probably the only. Are we really special? Jalàya: I was told so. Sandso: Do you believe everything they say to you? Jalàya: No, but... Sandso: You know what’s the problem with you un-musical people? You are not flexible, you can’t communicate and you don’t feel the touch. Jalàya: What touch? Sandso: The touch of the music, the personal contact with the instrument. I mean, do you play an instrument? Jalàya: Well, I sing. Sandso: That’s what I mean, you are completely inflexible. Jalàya: I don’t understand you I’m afraid. Sandso: I’m afraid, too. What I mean with inflexible is: you don’t share your voice. You can’t give it to somebody else to use it as well. Nobody will ever feel what you feel when you sing and so nobody will feel the touch of music. Jalàya: People hear me sing. Isn’t that the same? Sandso: When you see somebody eating, don’t you feel hungry anymore when he or she has finished, too? When somebody falls, do you feel pain? The answer is no, miss. At those moments you don’t have the feeling. Jalàya: Yes, I understand, but what has that to do with your music? Sandso: We share music. Jalàya: So you share your instrument with the audience or something? Sandso: I don’t play an instrument. Jalàya: Well then, what are you doing here? Sandso: Why are you asking me the same questions all the time? Jalàya: Because I’m a bad interviewer? Sandso: Certainly. Jalàya: Please, explain it to me. Sandso: Okay then, one more time. The people you see here are not playing an instrument. We are musicians, no egoistic instrument-players. We have a lot of instruments, but get one every time we practise. So we don’t choose, we get one. We don’t know any notes, we don’t need them, all we need is the contact with the instrument, the communication. We figure out how they want to play us. And then we play, all together. Jalàya: And what about the sharing? Sandso: We share our personal contacts with each other and we are all at our best, we are one. Do you understand that? We share our feelings, our music? Jalàya: But you can’t read notes and you don’t know anything about music? Why is there a conductor then? Sandso: Look at Fork’s gracious motions, do you think we can miss him? He’s the best of us all. Really the best. Jalàya: Uh-huh... Ehm... One more question, do your audience love your music? I think it maybe sound a bit chaotic playing all your own way. Sandso: What do you call chaotic, miss? This is music, real music, if you think it’s chaotic you’re propably a blind instrument-player. And besides, we don’t play because of the audience. The audience is blind too. They clap their hands and say it’s beautiful, but they don’t understand. They who do are only audience for one time. After that they join the group. Everyone who has the feeling is free to join. Before I can ask more, Looseliver turns to his orchestra and says with a deep, warm voice: “Instruments!” The orchestramembers repeat “Instruments!” then begin to cheer and sit down. Slowly the conductor takes one of the instruments and gives it to a member who says: “Oh, it’s so beautiful.” When everyone has an instrument, there is a while of silence. The orchestra members all look at their instruments, kiss them or talk to them. At last, Fork raises his hand and the orchestra begins to play. It sounds wonderful. After the performance Sandso approaches me, showing me his instrument. It’s something that looks like a branch with a few holes made in it and decorated with ribbons. Sandso: It’s a lovely, isn’t it? Jalàya: What is it, a flute? Sandso: No, it’s a she. It costed me some time to understand her. What do you think you have to do with this lovely when you saw her for the first time? Jalàya: I don’t know. I would think it’s a kind of drumstick. Sandso: No, no, how aggresive. Listen to her. Blow here (he blows in one of the holes and a low “beep” can be heard) Such a lovely voice! Oh, it was such a wonderful afternoon, don’t you think. I hope I can hold her for a few more minutes. Touch her, she’s so soft. Jalàya: (I touch the branch) Yeah, quite soft. While Sandso turns around and walks away, with the branch close to him, I turn around to leave the Forest. I’m a bit puzzled and asking myself if it’s normal that interviewers are asked more questions then they can ask.