Hubertus squinted, his eyes half-shut, like that would somehow help him keep the noise out while he waited for Jürgen to stop blowing. “Okay, okay,” he said once Jürgen had lowered his instrument. “You’re angry, I get it. But if you just let me—”
BAAAAAWW
“Very funny. But we won’t—”
BWAAAAAAAW
“Jürgen!!”
Oomp oomp oomp baaaaaaaaaaw
A redness that wasn’t from the cold spread across Hubertus’s face. In an irate movement, he yanked his own tuba up and started blowing into it full force, lips trembling to produce a sound even deeper and louder than Jürgen’s.
Jürgen moved closer, oomping furiously. For a while they stood like that, barely a hand’s breadth away from each other, the terrifying sounds from their tubas overpowering all others. As they started to get more breathless, and the notes they produced were getting shorter and shorter, I thought I noticed a kind of rhythm creeping in, almost as if they were playing with instead of against one another.
Tarratt tarratt tarrattattatt
I turned to my side. Susanne, who had clearly had a similar thought, had started up an accompanying beat on her snare drum. It sounded good – not like any particular piece, or even style, but it was catchy. I could feel my whole body starting to nod along. Before I knew what I was doing, my trumpet was up against my lips, releasing notes I’d never played before. Vaguely amazed at my own boldness, I let them flow as they came, carried by the assured rattattatt of the drum, the oomp oomp of the two tubas. I felt like all my anxieties about going on my first New Year’s greeting, all the tension that had been created by the Rottbergers’ stunt, were being released with the music, like it was quite literally clearing the air.
I stopped when the tune seemed to reach its natural end. It was only when I noticed people lowering their instruments all around that I realized Susanne and I hadn’t been alone: by the time we finished, a whole orchestra, composed of musicians from both sides, had been playing together, improvising what at least to me had sounded like a wonderful and unique piece of freestyle marching music.
It took a moment for everyone to snap out of their revelry – and for our combative leaders to stop panting. Eventually, one of the Rottberg saxophones stepped forward to address Hubertus: “Hubert, can we go home now, please? My fingers are starting to freeze off.”
Hubertus only nodded, too winded to reply. The whole group slowly turned and walked away, shooting us the occasional backward glance like they thought we might come after them.
Way too exhausted to stop them, Jürgen gathered up just enough breath to shout after them: “Oi, Hubertus! This isn’t over!”
“Leave it be now.” Verena slipped her arm through his. “Let’s all go home; I think we could all do with some rest and some hot cocoa. – Or something a bit stronger,” she added under her breath.
Watching them plod away like soldiers from a battle, I found myself surrounded by a few of the other wind instruments with Susanne.
“That was totally super, what you played just there,” Susanne said appreciatively. The others made concurring noises.
I scratched my head underneath my woolly hat, feeling a little awkward. “Nah, come on, I was only following you.”
“Well, both of you,” the tenor horn said. “What are you, some kind of secret jazz duo?”
The flugelhorn put his hand on the tenor horn’s shoulder. “You know, Gustl, you’ve said stupider things before. This gives me an idea…”
The inaugurating spring concert of the newly founded Felddorf-Rottberg Jazz Orchestra was a huge success. They had to play three encores, then improvise a fourth because the audience kept demanding more. Their young trumpet soloist Walter was celebrated like a pop star, and several people even asked him for his autograph. In the weeks that followed, there were pictures of him all over social media, as well as one in the April edition of the Felddorfer Pfarrblatt – right underneath a big one of the two Kapellmeister, Jürgen and Hubertus. In their similar red uniform vests and with mirroring toothy grins on their faces, they almost looked like slightly manic brothers as they shook hands above a caption reading, “Two become one: former rivals join as new project turns feud into partnership.” The proceeds from the concert were enough for the Rottbergers to fully compensate the Felddorfers for the loss of their donations the previous December and still make a good amount for their own Musikverein. According to the two Kapellmeister, the next concert was already being planned, though there were rumors that the Orchestra’s star musician might not be participating, having (so it was said) recently started a side project of his own: a freestyle marching music duo made up of only him and a drummer.
(…the end…)
Transadaptation Volume 7 – Via Ellipsis – Continuation of Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted
January: An Unexpected Trip Down Memory Lane – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)
February: Blow-up – Veronika Groke (Austria)
March: Futuros Murguistas – Alejandra Baccino (Uruguay)
April: The Nomenclature Man – Paulius Limantas (Lithuania)
May: Amanecerá y veremos – Adriana Uribe (Columbia)
June: Finding Light in Yerevan – Armine Asryan (Armenia)
July: The Last Judgement – Nadia Silva Castro (Brazil)
August: Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Worm? – Narantsogt (Natso) Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)
September: Second Steps – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)
October: New Normality – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)
November: Pandemic Love – Li Xiakun (China)
December: Beyond Comprehension – Rahaf Konbaz (Syria)
Background – Context
Transadaptation Volume 6: Meaning? – Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2025)
Transadaptation Volume 5: Of Flowing Vicissitudes – Life Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2024)
Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)
Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)
Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)
Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)
Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)
The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)
L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)
From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)
Emblems and stories on the international community
Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world
Credits
Top left to top right: 1. Hallstaat, Austria – After snowfall – Dahee Son (Unsplash); 2. Nassereith, Austria – In the valley – Robin Dessens (Shutterstock)
Bottom left to bottom right: 1. Austria – An Alp village – pymata (Shutterstock); 2. Salzkammergut, Austria – In the village – Canadastock (Shutterstock)
Inner group (top left to top right): 1. Hittisau, Austria – On the periphery – Ulrich Knoll (Unsplash); 2. Austria – The village – Sven D (Unsplash)
Inner group (bottom left to bottom right): 1. Hallstatt, Austria – The mountain homes – Radek Kozak (Unsplash); 2. Brixen im Thale, Austria – The valley villages – Stephan Seeber (Unsplash)