Germany Audition

Last week was a completely new level of audition insanity when I fled Amsterdam to Munich for an audition in the midst of Bavaria. Like you do...

This is where performing becomes a little bit of a contradiction to the rest of my life so far: I have never loved to leave my comfort zone for anything. Suddenly, that is changing by leaps and bounds; nothing ever stays the same. One day I'm running around with toddlers, dancing to the Mulan soundtrack and baking three-ingredient cookies (these are some of my favorite days), the next I am on a train, a plane, another train and a cab to an audition in a country I've never even visited before.

It's by no means a complaint, but just a wee bit different.

So last Thursday I had an audition in Germany. I was one of four sopranos that day, which was terrifying and wonderful because not a single one of us was the same fach. There was a Despina soprano, a Wagnerian soprano, a full lyric (Governess) soprano, and me - a crazy one, who decided to bring Zerbinetta that day. For those of you who are not opera people, and therefore have no clue what any of this means, it basically just means we were not competing for any roles even though we were all technically sopranos. There are many reasons for this, but it took the pressure off a great deal and we were able to just support one another, no knives in backs (as far as I could tell).

I flew into Munich on Wednesday night, heart pounding through my chest, and checked into an amazingly swanky hotel (a recommendation from a friend of mine who is from Germany). I had originally "hemmed and hawed" over the price of this hotel, but had decided that my emotional stability was more important than attempting to navigate my way to a town an hour away from Munich at midnight after my flight. In hindsight, I'm glad I threw a little money at the situation for this place. I settled in, texted everyone that I was safe, put on the big white fluffy robe in my room, poured a glass of red wine (I don't normally drink before an audition), took a long-ass shower and then passed out in the king-sized bed. Obviously not one part of that was outside of my comfort zone.

I slept way TOO well that night, and woke up an hour later than I intended to (still early enough, thankfully), with an imprint of the pillowcase embedded in my cheek. I frantically got ready for life, anxious about the train schedule from the airport, and buzzing and warming up quietly in the room. Another cab ride and then two amazingly simple train rides later, I was in Augsburg, a city that resembled a beautiful New England town to me, and at the same time reminded me of absolutely nowhere I'd been before. It was a perfect fall day - every tree was orange or yellow, and it was warm enough to barely need a coat over my audition dress. But, now came the fun part: I knew I needed to speak German in this house. I've studied enough German to comprehend it easily, but formulating coherent sentences is not as natural to me just yet. I've been told many times that this is a deal breaker for most companies in Germany, so I had prepared what I'd say.

When I finally figured out where the stage door was, I walked in boldly stating "Ich habe ein vorsingen!" ("I have an audition", I think). The guy kinda blinked at me and then said "Wie heisst du?" I gave him my name, proud that he responded in German instead of switching straight to English (I must have sounded sooo German!) Then he handed me two lengthy documents to fill in... with every field in German.

Crap.

I started texting Philip, (said friend from earlier who is from Germany), random questions like "What does 'geb.' mean!??!!" (Geburtstag. Birthday. Duh). I launched Google translate from my phone, shielding what I was doing from everyone around me so they would not catch on...

Another soprano walked in and spoke a flurry of excellent German to the same guy, then sat down beside me. "If you need any help with this, let me know" she said, kindly. My impulse was to laugh and be all "ohh totally unnecessary, but thanks!" But instead I sighed in relief and pointed to three fields I needed her help with.

The rest of the time was amazingly pleasant. I'm used to the New York City audition circuit: everyone sizing you up, a feeling of emotional warfare in the waiting areas where everyone is mumbling to themselves or doing jaw/arm stretches and making burbling, squealing noises like an infant. I'm accustomed to feeling like cattle, being shoved into the audition room, singing for five minutes without saying anything about myself to the judges, and then being brusquely cut off and sent out again. Generally, it's a chilly, insensitive world I've gotten used to. This was nothing like that.

We rehearsed with the accompanists shortly before, reviewing tempi and discussing moments of artistic schmultz we wanted added in. I kept trying to speak German to these people, to which they responded in English, so I finally gave up on the mission (hey, if they're going to opt for English who am I to stop 'em??). Then, it was audition time, and I was last of the four.

I hate being last to go on in an audition setting with. a. passion. I stood back stage watching the three before me, enjoying their performances, while overthinking absolutely everything about my upcoming 15 minutes of fame on that stage. Was starting with the aria from Baby Doe really the way to go? My Mozart was much stronger that day... shouldn't I do that instead? But the pianist had said I should stick with Baby Doe, so I should do that... But then they're going to definitely ask for Zerbinetta, and we hardly had time to go over that...

Zo calm.

Then it was my turn. I was excited and filled with dread all at once (a common problem for me). Hopping on the stage and looking out over the dusty, guilded, gorgeous hall, I saw about four little heads out in the audience. "Ich heisse - " "Julie Norman? Shall we conduct your audition in English?" "Uhm... Okay! If that is comfortable for everyone!"

And so, all prepared German phrases out the window, we began. One thing I noticed was that the pianist was in the pit, where the orchestra normally is. This was troubling because I was way up on stage, singing out over his sound, hearing my own voice as LOUDLY AS POSSIBLE. The piano sounded very far away, and there was a delay. I'm sure this was on purpose, to see how the singers could handle the quirk. But, since we had hardly rehearsed and I was still not fully in my body in the space yet, it was more than a little strange. Still, I loved the space, and I felt as solid as I could in that moment.

As predicted, however, they asked for Zerbinetta's aria next. For those of you unfamiliar with this piece, it is a rhythmically, mentally, musically challenging role that requires you to be very tight with the accompaniment. It doesn't work if that isn't there. So, right off the bat, not being able to really hear the pianist was a ... challenge. We got off twice, at least, and then it was over. They thanked me, I left, breathed a sigh of relief, and then headed to the train.

There is never any way of knowing how these things go. So often the emotion or feeling behind the day is what you are left with as a singer, rather than any feedback or result. For me, I just felt glad to have done it, proud of myself for not getting lost in Germany or showing up hours late, and beyond grateful that this is my life lately. I found a little Bavarian restaurant near the train, got some sausage, a pretzel and a beer (of course), and then was off to my plane tipsy and happy. (And exhausted).

Oh hi, Bavarian food. Get in mah belly.

I look forward to more of this type of experience, but I think what sticks out most to me about this current phase of life is how much it is forcing me to loosen up. It would have been easy at any moment last week, for me to completely fall apart over the details. Finances are tight, I am very far from home, and I miss my voice teacher some days more than anyone else. But, then, at the end of the day, it is just another experience. Whatever comes of these things, what matters most is that I got to sing - something I love more than almost anything else - and I got to witness a whole new way of life in a totally new place. And that, for me, is the number 1 reason to tackle this profession if you have a dream to.