Have you ever found out about an audition for an orchestra spot you really wanted one day before the audition? If not, I’ll tell you what that feels like in a minute. But first, let’s go back to the beginning of the story, which started about nine months ago in Vienna.
I have long ago given up pretending that my decisions are in any way rational. They are not. I knew Goldsmiths was an outstanding institution before I applied, but what really convinced me that it was the right institution for me was the fact that the website said they had an orchestra. A non-auditioning orchestra. The other thing I’ve given up pretending long ago is that I would have a shot at getting into an orchestra that I had to audition for. I don’t. I am just not good enough a player and when I have to play a solo in front of people, I simultaneously want to cry and throw up, which, as you can guess, makes for rather shaky playing. Summing up, it is justified to say that one of the main reasons for choosing Goldsmiths was the fact that it has the Goldsmiths Sinfonia, an orchestra that was going to accept me without me having to go through the whole audition (Don’t throw up! Don’t cry!) – rejection (It’s okay to throw up, honey! It’s okay to cry!) process.
The catastrophe happened on Thursday. During our induction to the music department I duly raised my hand and asked about joining the Sinfonia and was told that auditions were taking place on Thursday (the same day) and Friday. Yes, auditions! I was welcome to sign up for an audition and try to get a spot. That was the closest I had come to crying since I moved to London. The constant threat of homelessness was a matter I could handle. Not getting into the orchestra was a tragedy of a completely different order. Nevertheless, I made my way to the music department and signed up for an audition the next day. If I was going down, I would be going down with my head held high. Next thing, I treated myself to a chocolate bar in order to calm myself, but when I opened it, a part of it came off and fell on the pavement. Without batting an eye, I picked up the part, looked at it, AND PUT IT RIGHT IN MY MOUTH. Such was the state I was in. However, I seem to have eaten enough dirt as a child to be immune to it because so far, my chocolate bar with dirt has had no adverse effects on my health and is going to be excellent preparation for my next life, in which I am planning to be a pigeon.
Next thing, I needed to decide which piece I was going to play and to get myself some sheet music (you guessed it – I left all my sheet music at home and yes, you might have noticed that chasing things I decided to leave at home is a recurring theme in this narrative). After having settled on Thais’ Meditation because it was the only piece I would be able to play with little preparation, I went on a little trip to Schott’s Music in Central London. Because I know that everything takes ages here, I gave myself two hours for the trip. Two hours and a half later, I was back home with some sheet music of the piece that looked nothing like the sheet music I was used to and a Sound of Music songbook I just had to buy (that old patriotism of mine again). Then I started practicing.
After a sleepless night, I walked to my audition on Friday like a death-row inmate walking to the executioner. It didn’t help that the violist who auditioned before me played some amazing Bruch. However, her wonderful playing did not surprise me either, because already the day before she had revealed herself to be a being of superior intelligence when I tried to tell her why I loved the viola but felt I could never play it and she looked at me knowingly and said, ‘I know. The viola is just too much violin, really!’ The cellist who was to audition after me told me he had brought along ‘a couple of pieces he felt confident with’ because he did not quite know what the panel would want to hear. Meanwhile, I heard the violist swiftly and elegantly move through a series of double stops. I tried to stay strong. I told myself I would just do it to be brave. I’d just do it for the experience. Nobody important was going to be there. Everybody important was there. The panel I had to play before consisted of the head of the music department, one composer/violinist and guy whose background I don’t remember but who took and awful lot of notes which would save me later.
When I was invited into the room and the head of the music department had to dash out for a moment, I used the time to state my case, which is basically that I started playing at age 26, have been trying to prove everyone who told me that it was impossible to learn to play the violin so late wrong, was not sure if it was a good idea to audition in the first place, but felt I needed to be brave and to give things a shot. ‘Good for you’, one person of the panel said, eagerly scribbling down notes about what I had just announced. ‘The violin is a difficult instrument to start at age 26’, the composer/violinist said. I was not going to give him that one. ‘I think the violin is a difficult instrument to pick up at any age’, I retorted, wondering if it was a good idea to contradict the panel before the audition. ‘Do you have much orchestral experience then?’, the guy with the many notes asked. These were good people. They were trying to help me out. ‘Not really’, I answered in an exaggerated pout of honesty. ‘Well, I played the piano as a child (not sure where I’m going with this), and ahm…the recorder (still not sure where I’m going with this) and well (You can turn this around! Tell them about the orchestra camp!) I have played in orchestras occasionally (keep going!) but really not that much (You tried girl! You’ll do better next time!)’.
Needless to say, I played badly, even by my own low standards. But it was just what I had expected. If you have a tendency to crumble when you play in front of other people and have to audition with no preparation, new sheet music and during a period in which you’ve neglected your practicing, that is what happens. The head of the music department looked like he wanted to cry. Suddenly, the guy with the many notes showed him his notes and the head of the music department looked a tiny bit less like he wanted to cry. To my great surprise, they did not throw me out immediately afterwards but gave me some sheet music to sight read. That did not go much better. When I was done, feeling all proud for not having cried and not having thrown up, the head of the department said the words I had least of all expected to hear, ‘Welcome to the Sinfonia!’ And I said what I am sure every good player who has just won an audition says. ‘Really??? That is so amazing!’ And if that was not great enough already, the composer/violinist said one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about my playing. ‘I believe you’ve done a great job at proving everybody wrong’, he announced and completely made my day.
So, it seems that every now and then it pays off to do thing just for the experience. I was 100% sure I did not have the slightest chance when I walked into this audition, but it turned out to be one of the most empowering experiences I’ve had in the past months. Also, I am beginning to re-think my attitude towards auditions, because if it has worked one time, it might work again. However, I’ll firmly stick with all my unreasonable decisions. They might get you into trouble every now and then but also make sure you get do to things you never knew you could do.
