The piano begins the intro to your best aria. You prepare for that all-important first note. It’s good. You sing the first phrase knowing you’re off to a good start.
Then: “That was really good—why aren’t they looking up? Why are they shuffling papers? Who just walked across the back of the room? I wouldn’t have worn these clothes, if I had known it was going to be so hot in here. Aargh! Now I’m not paying attention. I’m blowing this!”
What’s more, that inner monologue is the luxury of the singers who actually have auditions. When it’s finally our turn, will we be ready?
Danielle Nice of Los Angeles decided not to be a victim of chance, circumstance and rude auditors. She organized a group that has no name, but she calls their time together “Singer Sessions.”
Danielle calls and e-mails her singer friends, makes fliers, and generally puts out the word that several singers are going to be getting together to sing for each other in what’s supposed to be a no-pressure environment. She finds a neutral space, asks the singers who participate to contribute to the pianist fees, then hires an accompanist. The sessions are two hours long, once a week, for an utterly digestible eight-week period.
There are no attendance rules, and tardiness doesn’t exist, since every singer is free to come and go as she pleases. (I’m not being politically correct here. Yours truly is the only man.) No one critiques anyone else, unless a singer specifically requests opinions. And finally, there are no restrictions on what is sung.
Do you just want to try out that recitative sans aria? That’s fine with everyone. Do you want to sing that certain aria over, and over, and over again in a single session? I’ve been know to take that approach. And. . .well. . .no one has complained—to me, anyway.
Most colleges and conservatories, including Juilliard, have some sort of performance class. The object is simply to do a little performance without teachers or coaches. It’s a chance to sing without stopping. It’s a chance to sing as though you were giving an audition.
Danielle tells an inspirational story about why she created, and why she sustains, this group that emulates those conservatory sessions. When she lived in another city, she attended similar sessions, organized by a coach. She was conquering that second queen of the night aria that nearly every one of us has heard countless times. It’s devilishly difficult, but oh so thrilling.
She could sing it. She could sing it at her lessons. She could sing it at home. But could she sing it when she was tired? She said she wanted to be able to sing that aria anytime, regardless of circumstances. She said she even wanted to nail those high “F”s when she had PMS.
So, she went and she sang. Every week she sang. Even if she had sung it well the week before, even it was raining, even if she wasn’t feeling 100 percent. By the end of those sessions, she knew she could count on herself—regardless of external influences or her personal constitution—to give a good performance of that aria. She would never be a victim of a bad day or a terrible audition environment.
It all sounds pretty simple. How hard can it be to sing for a group of people who aren’t able to help or hurt your career? But it is hard. Singing is how we define ourselves. Whatever else we do or don’t do well, we can at least sing well. And the other singers in these sessions may not be able to affect your career—not immediately, anyway—but they do know good singing. They know every word you fumble over, every note that’s under pitch and even every interpolated high note you omit. Your confidence can easily be shaken.
Each singer brings her own individual problems to the sessions. It might be not being able to hear your own voice come back to you. It might be singing with an accompanist you’ve never used, memorization, technique that only works under ideal situations, or just run-of-the-mill stage fright.
The most common problem seems to be just getting through the aria. Practicing at home, with a teacher or even with a coach, is inevitably a start-and-stop situation. How often do most teachers or coaches blissfully smile as you slog through aria after aria?
Of course, the problems that you know you have and intend to work on are only half the story. The real benefits come from working on the problems you didn’t know you had, the ones that only show up in front of a crowd. Suddenly, those phrases for which you always have plenty of breath now seem soooo long, the words to that piece that you have memorized backward and forward just evaporate: pfft.
Those are just the singing problems. Singers also need to deal with the psychological problems. Universally, we all seem to share a want of the discipline required just to attend every week: There’s very little motivation to go, especially when there will always be next week.
If you don’t show up every week, however, you’re forced to examine your actions. Are you going to say, “I’m not going to beat myself up about this?” Or are you going to say, “Hmm. Am I really doing everything that I can to have this career I claim to want so badly?” After all, if you can’t or won’t spend two hours a week perfecting your audition material, consciously or subconsciously you’re probably retarding your journey to success.
Yikes. You can believe me when I tell you that when I first heard of Singer Sessions I thought it would be an innocuous way to try out some new pieces. I had no idea that I would discover so many obstacles that detract from my actually making music.
There are networking benefits as well. Although singers generally aren’t forthcoming with information about opportunities, everyone at the sessions eventually knows about all the auditions that are coming up. There have even been non-music related opportunities.
One of the toughest hurdles to overcome when starting a group is finding a rent-free space in which to sing. Here are some suggestions:
A church. Almost all churches have a hall with a piano. If you or one of your group has a good relationship with the church office, this is a great venue.
A school. This is not so easy. Schools often have security and insurance issues. But when I called the schools in my neighborhood, it was clear that, although a hassle, a school was a possibility.
Someone’s home.
A community meeting space. This is the best of all. In our case, I called City Hall and began asking questions. We finally found a great space with a stage.
This last venue is not for the faint of heart though. We all know how City Hall can be. It took several phone calls, sometimes to the same people, before we were able to obtain permission to use this space.
You can be pretty sure that the first person you talk to will simply tell you that there is no space with a piano. Keep going. You have to make a human connection. If you’re just another citizen who wants something, you’re not going to have much luck. Tell everyone you talk to what you intend to do. Unless you have the money to rent a hall, explain how you have no option but to find a rent-free space.
Keep a list of everyone you talk to. When someone is sure there’s nothing to be done, ask if they have any ideas on who else might have ideas. When you call the next person, mention the people who have been helpful already when they suggested other people to contact.
The first person you call should be someone high up in the hierarchy. Call the mayor’s office. Don’t ask the mayor’s office to do anything except point you in the right direction. Ask if you can call back if you reach a dead end. Most people really are nice and willing to help if they can just distinguish you from the hundreds of needy calls they get each day. Don’t forget your thank-you notes.
We just finished our first eight weeks at this new venue. We’re asking to have the space again. Danielle suggested we do a free community recital to give back to the neighborhood. Since we’re taking from the community, we really want to be part of the community. This may be one way.
With hard work and practice, practice, practice, the next time you hear the intro to your aria, you’ll have the confidence of knowing that you’re going to make it to the end without flubbing a note. And ultimately, confidence may be the one element in an audition that gets more jobs than good singing.
