This morning I am serving on the committee that will decide who the KSO's next principal 2nd violinist will be. (Nobody is leaving at the end of this season. Due to a musician returning after a leave of absence and the late resignation of our former principal second violinist, we're faced with shaking things up in the violin sections somewhat.) The road to landing a job with a symphony orchestra is a process unlike that in any other profession, and, in my opinion, has little to do with skills needed for the actual job.
At an audition, musicians generally draw lots to determine the order in which they will play. The committee hears candidates in rounds, listening to everyone in the first round and then eliminating more and more people in subsequent rounds until a winner is chosen. In early rounds great lengths are taken to make sure the identity of the candidates is kept anonymous. The committee sits behind a screen so that the musicians can be heard but the committee cannot see who is playing. If the musician has a question they ask the proctor who relays the information to the committee. In many orchestras candidates are disqualified for speaking directly to the committee or even coughing excessively during the screened rounds. Some orchestras even lay a carpet down so that it isn't possible for the committee to identify a man from a woman based on footsteps.
Why all the trouble? A few reasons. For a long time orchestras were made up entirely of white men. That era has passed, especially in the U.S., but the screen does help to eliminate any other bias that might pop up. The classical music world is a small one. The screen polices committee members from passing their friends on to future rounds or holding back people they don't like from advancing. It also serves as a privacy fence for candidates who may not wish to advertise they are shopping for a different job or who have a bad day and botch the audition. In the final round the screen comes down, we are allowed to speak with the finalists, and can see their resumes.
When the votes are in and the winner has been picked we have listened to the winning candidate play for a total of 20 to 30 minutes over the course of a day or two. The winner is the musician who managed to play the most perfectly that day. Sometimes they happen to be the best musician present at the audition and sometimes they aren't. Most of the time we get lucky and they fit nicely within the section but sometimes they don't.
My biggest beef with the audition process is that it doesn't test how someone will do in the thick of the orchestra. Sure they can play Don Juan perfectly, but how do they do in the section? Can they blend? Are they prepared for rehearsal? Are they easy to get along with? How do they react to correction? Conversely, I fear that many players who would be great assets to any orchestra are eliminated far too easily because they simply do not audition well. Auditioning is a skill in itself that is very much separate from being able to fit into an orchestra. Some orchestras invite a few finalists to spend a week in residence rehearsing and performing, before making their final decision. This is helpful, but also quite expensive for the orchestra and it doesn't help the musicians who are eliminated early in the process.
The audition process as I described it is industry-wide and I don't see it changing any time soon. For now I'm just happy to be on the listening side of the screen.
Showing posts with label things they didn't teach in music school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things they didn't teach in music school. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Smile!
Holly Mulcahy of The Partial Observer recently posted a somewhat tongue-in-cheek blog entitled How to Alienate Your Audience in 10 Easy Steps: Musicians. (We are not the only ones who sin. She penned a similar post aimed at music directors. Next month she promises to take on management. Joy.) Among the sins mentioned are looking bored, never smiling, wearing soiled and wrinkled concert attire, and deflecting post-concert compliments. Ouch. She pretty much hit the nail on the head in her observations of musicians. The offensive behaviors she mentioned are present everywhere in the classical music world, and Knoxville is no exception.
If a musician went to a play where the actors glowered at the audience and chatted through the curtain call they would, rightly, be appalled and come away with a sour taste in their mouth. Somehow, though, we just don't think the same way about our performances. I've been thinking about why this is the case since I first read Mulcahy's post. I think a big part of the problem is that, despite years of intense training, musicians are rarely taught how to be performers. In music school, technical and musical perfection is the emphasis of training. Stage presence is rarely mentioned. When I was in school my instruction on stage presence was limited to my viola teacher urging me to practice in the shoes I planned to perform in, to make sure that I would “maintain my modesty” when I bowed in my somewhat low-cut recital dress, and to give me a quick lesson on the order of hand shaking / bows when I soloed with an orchestra. I was never told that it was important to wear black undergarments because stage lighting can render seemingly opaque fabric see-through, or that there are audience members equipped with binoculars so even if you sit in the very back it is important to be neatly dressed, smile and look engaged. I learned these lessons the hard way.
I don't know what it will take to solve the disconnect musicians have between performing and being performers. It would help if the art of performing were emphasized more in training, but I don't think that would cure the problem. This has been an unfortunate tradition for many, many years. My feeling is that unless the issue is appropriately and persistently addressed by management at the professional level, no amount of training in youth orchestras and colleges will make much of a dent. In my years of performing the issue of stage deportment has rarely been addressed until orchestra management or the music director is so irritated that they explode at the unsuspecting players with a rant of, “would it hurt you to smile once in awhile?!?!” Usually the rant is where the instruction ends and nothing really changes. A notable exception to this happened a few seasons ago here at the KSO. The string players were asked to turn to face the audience when we stand for applause instead of standing in front of our chairs with our profile to the audience. Did people moan and groan about it? Yes. Did we do it? Of course. I don't know any musicians who deliberately set out to be rude and disrespectful to the audience. When we are given specific direction we are willing to change (even while grumbling). Now, several seasons later, turning to face the audience during applause is something most players do automatically. Similar direction would most definitely bring the grumbling and resistance that goes on whenever a group of people is asked to change their behavior. Ultimately, though, I expect we would all toe the line and become better performers for it.
If a musician went to a play where the actors glowered at the audience and chatted through the curtain call they would, rightly, be appalled and come away with a sour taste in their mouth. Somehow, though, we just don't think the same way about our performances. I've been thinking about why this is the case since I first read Mulcahy's post. I think a big part of the problem is that, despite years of intense training, musicians are rarely taught how to be performers. In music school, technical and musical perfection is the emphasis of training. Stage presence is rarely mentioned. When I was in school my instruction on stage presence was limited to my viola teacher urging me to practice in the shoes I planned to perform in, to make sure that I would “maintain my modesty” when I bowed in my somewhat low-cut recital dress, and to give me a quick lesson on the order of hand shaking / bows when I soloed with an orchestra. I was never told that it was important to wear black undergarments because stage lighting can render seemingly opaque fabric see-through, or that there are audience members equipped with binoculars so even if you sit in the very back it is important to be neatly dressed, smile and look engaged. I learned these lessons the hard way.
I don't know what it will take to solve the disconnect musicians have between performing and being performers. It would help if the art of performing were emphasized more in training, but I don't think that would cure the problem. This has been an unfortunate tradition for many, many years. My feeling is that unless the issue is appropriately and persistently addressed by management at the professional level, no amount of training in youth orchestras and colleges will make much of a dent. In my years of performing the issue of stage deportment has rarely been addressed until orchestra management or the music director is so irritated that they explode at the unsuspecting players with a rant of, “would it hurt you to smile once in awhile?!?!” Usually the rant is where the instruction ends and nothing really changes. A notable exception to this happened a few seasons ago here at the KSO. The string players were asked to turn to face the audience when we stand for applause instead of standing in front of our chairs with our profile to the audience. Did people moan and groan about it? Yes. Did we do it? Of course. I don't know any musicians who deliberately set out to be rude and disrespectful to the audience. When we are given specific direction we are willing to change (even while grumbling). Now, several seasons later, turning to face the audience during applause is something most players do automatically. Similar direction would most definitely bring the grumbling and resistance that goes on whenever a group of people is asked to change their behavior. Ultimately, though, I expect we would all toe the line and become better performers for it.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Have a Nice Trip...
With December just about over, my thoughts and attention have turned to the January chamber program. I am playing a concerto with the orchestra on that concert and I have already started having nightmares.
I'm not terribly worried about the performance itself. (Yet. Those nightmares won't start until a few days before the performance.) I'm excited to be playing a lesser-known work written by a great composer. The thing that scares me is getting on and off the stage without tripping. I know it sounds ridiculous, but this has always been the aspect of performing that causes me the most anxiety.
When I'm in a situation where I will be making an entrance, I have to make a plan. As the sole female member of the Principal Quartet, I have the honor of walking out first when we perform. Last season I was so flustered by walking on stage that I nearly missed my chair when I sat down. This season we practiced walking on stage several times before our first concert. I'm sure the boys thought I had completely lost my mind but they indulged me anyway.
My philosophy that shoes should not be painful to wear, along with my above-average height, means that I don't wear high heels on a regular basis. I hardly ever stand in them for extended periods of time. I am not comfortable in them. Actually, I think I'd be steadier on roller skates. For this upcoming concert, I have started practicing in the shoes I plan to wear to lessen my odds of doing a face-plant on my way on and off the stage. I don't know, though. The roller skates are sounding like a safer option every day.
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