The Long Game

I had set some goals.  Check-in time.

I think the one that'll get the most mileage as far as interesting reading goes is my audition.  

It's no secret I'm a pianist.  I talk about it a lot.  It's a key part of my personality and a skill I'm pretty proud of.  I play keyboards in a band, but I sometimes find myself a little musically unfulfilled by being the keyboardist/back-up singer in a cover band.  That's not to say that I don't enjoy it or appreciate the unique challenges presented by being a part-time rockstar (just in case any of my band-mates are reading and think I want to jump ship).  It's just that being in a band is different from other types of piano playing and I miss that part of myself.  

So why audition for a musical?  Well, generally musical theatre music is pretty challenging; learning how to play new songs is always awesome.  Usually, you're supposed to be playing from sheet music, which is what I'm best at.  Being in a band often means simplifying the written music or improvising which is just not where I'm most talented.  I don't play by ear very well and there is something shameful about being the person on stage with a binder or tablet full of sheet music in front of her while everyone else has it memorized.  It would be really nice to be somewhere where the thing I'm most comfortable being is also the thing I'm supposed to be.  Finally, it's about duration.  In a band, you (should) play the stuff that gets people moving.  If something works, you keep playing it.  What this means is that you play your most popular songs over and over and over again.  Forever.  Until they're not popular anymore.  But trust me, you stop loving them WAY before the crowd does.  The great thing about working on a musical is that you're hitting performance time at just about the point where the songs are starting to lose their magic for you.  Then you're done with them.  And you can move on to the next bunch of songs.  It's perfect.  I would have to say that my most favourite place to be a pianist is in an orchestra pit.  So I want to get back there.

So why audition for a chorus role in a musical you don't really like?  Well, here's the thing.  In amateur musical theatre, nobody "auditions" for a position in the orchestra pit.  Someone just knows you can do it, and then you're the one doing it.  Which means that someone has to know I can do it.  Which means that I have to make people know who I am.  And while I could find out who the local directors are, set up my keyboard in front of their house, and rock out on my Les Miserables score, I feel like that is more likely to result in a disturbing the peace-type of violation than a job in the orchestra pit.  No, it's a much longer game.  First, you get into the community.  Then you advertise your previous experience by talking about yourself a lot.  Then the usual person can't do it for whatever reason (definitely not because you pushed them off a roof...actually, that's not a good example...I really did fill in once for someone who fell off a roof...which I had NOTHING to do with).  Then someone decides to give you a shot.  Then you blow them away with the talent they never knew you had because you were just the world's okay-est chorus/ensemble member.  

So, am I on my way?  Short answer: Probably not.

Long answer: My singing voice is quite low and more-or-less untrained.  I have a pretty good knowledge of musical theory, though, so I can find music to suit my unnaturally low singing voice.  This later bites me in the ass when they ask me to sing music from the show which is usually written for a human woman's voice which mine is not.  I chose to sing a Carole King song about 4 notes lower than its original key and I think I blew them away.  Then I was asked to do a cold reading, which didn't go well because I was told that ensemble auditions wouldn't involve a cold reading and I was already pretty freaking nervous.  I left, thinking it was a "thanks but no thanks but we really like your singing voice" and then was followed out of the room by the Assistant Producer asking me to come back the next day for a call-back.  That gave me hope. So I came back the next day, shiniest smile on, having spent the evening researching the role I thought they were calling me back for, only to find myself in a room chock-a-block with other hopefuls waiting for their callbacks too.  The room was literally vibrating with assumptions and hearsay about what was actually going on in the audition room, which was upset the butterflies in my stomach who do not like to be disturbed by gossip.  People would be called into the room one or two at a time.  Some would come back out and wait some more, some would leave, and some would stay in the room.  Finally, just one other girl and I were in the waiting room.  Some of the production team came out to talk to us.  They apologized for the wait.  Then apologized again.  Because they had just too many people and they wouldn't be able to use us in the show this time around...except maybe there would be some drop-outs and they'd call us if they needed us.  I felt really bad for the other girl because she received that news, then had to wait for her Dad who did get a role to be finished with whatever celebration was going on inside.  I heard applause from inside the room as they announced who would be taking each role as I was leaving.  I went home and I cried.  I wasn't really crying because I didn't get a role.  I knew hearing no would be a very real possibility.

I was crying for two reasons.  The first reason was because instead of having the courtesy to rip off the band-aid and just say "thanks but no thanks," some complete strangers thought it was totally ok to ask me to spend two and a half hours of my time getting more and more nervous for an audition that never happened on a really beautiful Sunday afternoon in August.  Their complete lack of regard for my time and feelings made me feel like a piece of garbage.  The second reason was that I was still remembering my long game.  As enraged as I was about being treated like a piece of garbage, and as much as I relished the idea of flipping them the bird if they did call and ask me to fill in for a drop-out, I knew that to achieve my end-game of being in their pit band one day I would have to accept the consolation offer in order to prove that I am a hard worker who wants to be involved in their productions.  That made me feel like worse garbage.  Like...squishy, drippy garbage with the sweet vinegar smell of rotten fruit.

So that was shit.

But I still feel the need to work on my musical portfolio.  So I have other plans.  They involve taking singing and/or piano lessons.  This is an equally convoluted long game.  I miss living in a small pond.

I still need to work on my other goals.  One of them was to start a gratitude journal, which I did not do.  I'll start now:

I am grateful for the friend who asked me how the audition went, was apologetic about it, and then worked really hard to get me an audition for another show.  It really meant a lot to have someone vouch for me and my willingness to put in the work.  I didn't get that part either, I suspect because I do not have the voice of a human woman, but they were at least kind enough to just say, "Thanks for auditioning, but we can't use you.  We'd maybe like to work with you in the future, though."  Which was maybe not genuine, but at least it was decisive and still nice, and gave me hope in a way that didn't string me along.

I am also grateful for the friend who brought wine and brownies over to my house to sing some songs.  My second favourite thing to do is accompany soloists.  They have voices that do sound like human women (or men...or whatever), and people have written music for them.  I help to make them shine.  

I am grateful for other things, but that's a start, anyway.