Picture of Nicole Martín Medina

Nicole Martín Medina

Gestora Cultural – Abogada/MBA

The Fairy Tale of the Trumpet Player o What is an orchestra for? – Part 4

Work carried out during the

Master’s Degree in Management of Cultural and Creative Industries 

Universidad Europea Miguel de Cervantes, 2020-2021

Subject “Theoretical Foundations of the Cultural and Creative Industries”.
Spanish mark: 10

Reduced text (without the theoretical-academic part)

Special Christmas 2023 entry, in 6 parts

El cuento del trompetista o ¿Para qué sirve una orquesta? – Parte 4
That had to be a joke in bad taste. A threat? What were the semihemidemisemiquavers saying? It was very difficult to understand because their speech at the same time caused a huge murmur. In the midst of all this, the gazes of the maestro and the trumpeter met, and, at that precise moment, they both knew that theyhad seen and heard the same thing. The maestro realized that he had no choice but to vacate the room until further notice. But it was a strain on him, for he did not understand at all the reason for this action.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please vacate the room immediately and go home. We have an imminent danger to all of you in the room, but we don’t know what it is. Until further notice, please remain in your homes. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
The musicians looked at each other in astonishment, but the maestro’s voice had conveyed such firmness and urgency that no one hesitated to contradict him. On the other hand, he was the maestro; who could object to a conductor? Everyone got up and slowly began to leave the hall and the building. The trumpeter got up too, suspicious, looking at his companions when the treble clef said again: “Go home and don’t come back until you are told. And watch. I’ll wait for you here at the next rehearsal. Be confident.”
And so they all went home. What nobody had imagined at this point was that they were going to stay at home for a long, long time. The National Orchestra remained commanded by the semihemidemisemiquavers that kept buzzing all over the place. In this way, time passed. It vanished.
At first, the musicians thought it was a paid holiday, but as the days, weeks and months went by, this involuntary confinement at home lost its grace. Social relations had been completely cut off by this astonishing measure. Musicians were forced to rehearse alone at home. It was not possible to play in groups or with the full orchestra. There was no contact with the public either. There was nothing. Without the orchestra, they felt overwhelmed with so much spare time. Time they had not appreciated before and had not shown due respect for.
It was impossible to communicate beyond a whistle regno vivaceval [1], which served for communication over long distances, for the most urgent. For the rest, they all found themselves isolated from each other.
They started to get bored and feel lonely. Some showed signs of depression; others became ill. Some began to play alone on their balconies to at least communicate with their neighbors through music. On very rare occasions, it was the case that some musicians of the National Orchestra lived close enough to each other and were able to play, each on their own balcony, but together. These were the happiest in these dark days of the Semihemidemisemiquavers.

∞ ∞


However, this would not be a fairy tale if it did not lead to the solution of the problem. One fine, sunny and fragrant morning, the whistle of the National Orchestra’s headquarters was heard, summoning all the musicians back to work. Dear readers of this story, you can’t imagine the joy and relief that everyone felt.
They got up very early to enjoy a hearty breakfast and prepare themselves as if for a significant concert. They took out their best clothes and carefully dressed up. On their way to work, they enjoyed the sunshine and the green meadows of the kingdom. When they arrived at the noble golden building where the National Orchestra resided, they were amazed, as our trumpeter had been on his first day of work.
They entered with light steps, greeted each other, kissed and embraced. With an almost unknown lightness, they prepared their instruments and scores for the first rehearsal after the inexplicable event. Our trumpeter, too, was cheerful and happy. Unlike on his first day, everyone now radiated excitement and enthusiasm, so he felt free to let his happiness out as well. Once everyone had taken their seats, the maestro entered the rehearsal room and greeted them attentively and gratefully.
“I give you the warmest welcome in the history of the orchestra. I am deeply happy to see you again and to continue our common project that we love so much”, the maestro began, beaming with joy on his face. Everyone returned the greetings and good wishes and happily awaited his instructions.
The trumpeter opened his score and, of course, suddenly jumped up, …. plisch, plasch….. Mister treble clef out of it and welcomed him: “Welcome home. Nice to see us here again.”
Our hero should have anticipated this, but once again he was startled to see the big eyes of the treble clef. “Good morning; it certainly is a great joy to be back. My heart is full of joy and about to burst. Thank goodness the semihemidemisemiquavers are gone,” he remarked.
“So, Mr. Trumpet, what are the conclusions you have reached?” asked the treble clef.
“Conclusions? I was locked up at home for half a century, and now I’m going back to work. What conclusions do you mean?” replied the trumpeter.
“I can’t believe it, All Mighty God?” questioned the treble clef. “Have you already forgotten that all that was an experiment we had agreed on about the sense or nonsense of an orchestra?”.
“Wait a second?” asked the trumpeter. “The semihemidemisemiquavers were a philosophical experiment?”. “Of course, my dear, but I see you haven’t figured it out yet. Let’s see if I can help you some more.”
“Jesus Christ, what will it do now?” thought the trumpeter, knowing that with the treble clef, you never knew how things would turn out. He stood absolutely still, waiting for a new surprise. And it was not long in coming.
From the flute player’s score, as if by magic, came a large fermata with which a note is normally lengthened according to the performer’s will. Anyway, what was now elongated was not a musical note, but suddenly, out of nowhere, out of thin air, the thoughts of the other musicians were elongated and reached the ears of our hero.
… To be continued on January 1…

Nicole Martín Medina

Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

Christmas 2023

(Original Spanish/Translation Deepl/Revision NMM)


[1]  Allegory of the gomero whistle which is a whistled language used mainly by the inhabitants of the island of La Gomera. (Islas Canarias) to communicate through ravines.


Esta web utiliza cookies propias para su correcto funcionamiento. Contiene enlaces a sitios web de terceros con políticas de privacidad ajenas que podrás aceptar o no cuando accedas a ellos. Al hacer clic en el botón Aceptar, acepta el uso de estas tecnologías y el procesamiento de tus datos para estos propósitos. Configurar y más información