Auditions

Yesterday, we had school ensemble auditions. The number of trombonists we have is small: I believe it's six. There are three bands, which each require three trombones (or more, depending on the piece). It's safe to say we'll all be in demand.

As I entered the room, the committee is behind a barrier. Everything is silent, which is strange for a music school (not for an audition, though). People haven't gotten into the habit of practicing in every room and all the hallways yet, but give them time. The proctor leads me to the stand and tells me which three of seven excerpts they want to hear.

The general rule in auditions is silence. The committee is not visable for a reason, basically it helps to control bias. As a auditionee, I take this seriously. While I should probably be thinking about other things (like music), I always control the sound of my footsteps in a situation like that. I make them lighter and more rapid. I am conscious never to clear my throat or cough, because it's amazing how much of your individual vocal qualities both of those sounds carry. It's not just me. One of the trombonist removed his particularly squeeky shoes for his audition, prompting all the remaining cantidates to assume he had some strange performance practices until he explained himself.

The first requested piece is a famous part of Rossini's overture to La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie). It's articulated, linear but jumbled enough to be difficult, and moves by much faster when you're sweating in an audition than when you're practicing. Nothing is a stranger feeling than introducing a trombone sound to a silent room when you know that behind the curtain, three or more people are waiting for you to start so they can evaulate you. The first breath you take is the last moment when you have all potential types of performance available to you (good, bad, ugly).

The second excerpt is the famous soft section from Schumann's Symphony No. 3 ("Rhenish"). It's slow. R E A L L Y slow. Indicated tempo is quarter = 54, but in an audition, it's easy to mistakenly take it faster or slower(!). This excerpt really shines when played with a section, because you can watch the principal trombonist's body language as he holds an always-beautiful high E-flat for three quarter notes.

Right before I started this Schumann excerpt, someone violated the "now's not the time nor place" statue of silence that had been in effect. As I was taking my breath to begin, one of the committee members put down a pencil and said something in a perfectly audible "stage whisper." I'm not sure whether or not it was intentional that he be completely understood by EVERYONE in the room, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't know that sound travels easily both directions in a silent room.

As I was inhaling, I heard a pencil placed on a table and "You know, I never really liked Schumann."

So I exhaled, rehaled, and did my thing. I wish I could tell you that I was fighting for the spirit of Schumann, trying to make his piece understood by everyone in the room, but I wasn't. Right then, I was thinking, "Oh no, I've started too slowly." Thus began an epic journey through "Rhenish." It's not too bad until near the end of the first part, when one must crescendo to forte and then park on a low E-flat for 6 beats. At my chosen tempo of about 44 beats per minute, that was a serious test of how much air could I squeeze out of my lungs, my stomach, fingertips, and red blood cells. Also, to top it off, I think their copy of the piece contained some erroneous dynamic markings. One more thing to think about.

The last piece was from Haydn's Die Schöpfung. (The Creation) It's from a section titled "Achieved is the Glorious Work." I've played this section at a few trombonist weddings, simply because it's a great tune for clearing people out of the sanctuary at the end. Something about this tune makes people say, "Gosh, I'm hungry! Let's get to the reception."

The audition packet contained only two pages of the standard all-three-parts version, so there wasn't a whole lot of music. I reached the end of the second page and tried to put a note of finality on it (since it ended in the middle of a phrase). The committee said "Thank you, that's enough." Gosh, I hope so, because you didn't give me anything else.

Which brings me to an excellent point: when you have auditions, make sure the parts of the music you want to hear are clearly, even ridiculously, defined. Your auditionee's [I originally typed the non-sequitor "auctioneers"] will thank you.