I always forget...
Tue, Nov. 22nd, 2005 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scarlettina...about the nerves. I never remember that although I'm terrific when it comes time for performance, auditions freak me out. So there I am at chorus rehearsal, sitting with all the other folks, ready to audition for a solo, and the nerves kick in. I've been prepared for this audition for weeks, and now when it's time to just let go, I'm all tied up instead. I'm so freaked out that I can't get up the nerve to sing the first audition piece the director asks us to do. I was glued to my seat. (Sondheim! F*ck! And I wanted to try that one!)
The second audition piece was the song I've been preparing ("For Good," from Wicked). The other thing I always forget is that it's one thing to sing by oneself or with a disc; it's another thing entirely to sing with an accompanist. So though I feel I sang well on this one, I was consciously trying to sing with the piano, rather than just singing and letting the accompanist follow me, which is what a good accompanist will do. I finally let go about halfway through, and while I didn't sing it the best I ever have, I sang it about as reasonably well as I could given how my body was about to sieze up on me . . .
. . . because, you see, when I was done singing, I sat down and began to tremble. And then I began to shake. Violently. In waves. The shaking didn't stop for the rest of the auditions. I shook through the other two or three pieces we sang. (I tried out for the Bohemian Rhapsody solo but God knows I'm no Freddie Mercury). At one point my throat closed up, but I managed to open it again for a big note. I shook as I put on my coat. I was shaking all the way to the restaurant where a group of us stopped for a bite afterwards. Now, as I type, the shaking is almost gone . . . 3.5 hours after it began.
This, my friends, is what they call nerves.
And now comes the inevitable comparison to writing. Auditioning is like putting a story in the mail. Once it's done, you have to just forget about it until you either get a rejection or make the sale.
And now, I'm for bed, feeling as sore as I have sometimes after a really tough work out.
Oy.
The second audition piece was the song I've been preparing ("For Good," from Wicked). The other thing I always forget is that it's one thing to sing by oneself or with a disc; it's another thing entirely to sing with an accompanist. So though I feel I sang well on this one, I was consciously trying to sing with the piano, rather than just singing and letting the accompanist follow me, which is what a good accompanist will do. I finally let go about halfway through, and while I didn't sing it the best I ever have, I sang it about as reasonably well as I could given how my body was about to sieze up on me . . .
. . . because, you see, when I was done singing, I sat down and began to tremble. And then I began to shake. Violently. In waves. The shaking didn't stop for the rest of the auditions. I shook through the other two or three pieces we sang. (I tried out for the Bohemian Rhapsody solo but God knows I'm no Freddie Mercury). At one point my throat closed up, but I managed to open it again for a big note. I shook as I put on my coat. I was shaking all the way to the restaurant where a group of us stopped for a bite afterwards. Now, as I type, the shaking is almost gone . . . 3.5 hours after it began.
This, my friends, is what they call nerves.
And now comes the inevitable comparison to writing. Auditioning is like putting a story in the mail. Once it's done, you have to just forget about it until you either get a rejection or make the sale.
And now, I'm for bed, feeling as sore as I have sometimes after a really tough work out.
Oy.