This title is based on a true story. The glamour is all an illusion.
"But Jessica, opera singers get to travel, see the world, and
sing all day!"
"Oh, but opera singers are
so glamorous. The travelling, the gowns, the venues!"
"But...ANNA!"
I know.
Sigh.
The glitz, the sparkle, the overwhelming feeling that being an opera singer will be sheer elegance. From the outside, I still see this. I have been developing in this field for 9 years and every time I hear someone say,
The Met. I see the Prima Donna and the gowns, the jewelry and the town cars and chandeliers and I drift off into my day dreams.
My little heart flutters with excitement and a gnawing desire to
be that image to have
that life and yet, I know that this is simply not the true life of these world class singers. I know because I am living the audition circuit. I am watching colleagues live the audition circuit and you know what? It just doesn't seem to get more glamorous as the years go by.
Sometimes I find myself hoping that maybe I just haven't reached the height of things yet or that maybe its just the location and if I move somewhere wonderful, I won't feel so normal and tired and positively
un-glamorous.
Here is a little insight the the average life of an opera singer: it isn't that thrilling. It is a lot of hard work. It is exhausting, disappointing, draining and yet, for the few moments we are on the stage, it makes up for everything. That's why we keep at it. We wait around like a junkie for our next hit and once we get it we can't help but go out and search for the next. It's a deep-rooted passion that makes it clear to us that if we do not keep performing, our souls will whither.
If you are unfamiliar with the underbelly of the opera world, I am going to give you a little tour of audition season (September - December) so that you, too, may know what we are living.
SEPTEMBER
Freshly home from summer programs (which, since you were away, you missed your best friends and your cousins wedding and your grandma's 90th birthday). It cost upwards of $3000 and not working for money all summer because of said program causes you to arrive home completely broke and exhausted.
Filled with inspiration from a month of lessons, masterclasses, Alexander technique, acting, yoga and performances, you are determined to continue with the work you were doing on your craft.
You think to yourself, "yes, I have to get back to work, but I am really going to keep at it this year! I am going to audition for everything! I am definitely ready!"
You just got home from a program but the applications for next year are due next week.
You start researching and realize that every. single. application. is now going through YAP Tracker. You're a little annoyed since you haven't gone back to work yet and it's going to cost $50 but you do it anyway.
As you filter through notices, you realize 90% of them are community organizations looking for volunteer ushers (really, YAP Tracker?!)
Finally, you find the programs you were looking for and realize:
OMG. THESE APPLICATIONS ARE DUE NEXT WEEK.
Looking down the list of supplementary materials, you notice that you will to need to send a recording.
Company A wants: 4 arias, one in English, 2 references, $50 application fee, no guaranteed live audition
Company B wants: 2 arias, one English and a musical theatre piece (oh, no probs.), 3 references $75 application fee and proof you can acquire an American Visa ($300), recording pre-screen, no guaranteed live audition, no plastic CD case
Company C wants: 5 arias, one Handel or Mozart, one English and at least 4 languages, 2 references $60 application fee and $20 cash for the provided pianist, guaranteed live audition
Company D wants: 2 arias, one in English, 1 oratorio, 2 art songs (one orchestrated), 1 musical theatre, a monologue and a note from your mom (kidding). $20 application fee and a free pianist, pre-screen recorded audition, no guarantee of live audition, application must be post marked October 20th, include a self-addressed stamped envelope and a black and white glossy 8x10 (?!)
OK. You definitely have enough arias; the Mozart feels like garbage but it will have to do. Maybe you should get a new French piece but you'll have to ask your teacher ($80-$150) whom you haven't seen in 3 months, coach it at least once ($50 - $75) and then it might not even be quite right. Oh God. You might still remember your orchestrated song you did in Vocal Rep in 2nd year masters, and something from the Messiah or Elijah should be ok, right?
You haven't sung musical theatre since high school but you think you can remember all the words to something from Les Mis, so that's pretty good. You can work with that. Maybe it can double as a monologue. Just do it out of context, they probably won't ask for it anyway.
Ok. The recording guy can come ($300) so hopefully the pianist ($100) and the church space you are renting ($80) will all be available at the same time. You are back to work this week so the options for times are slim and all the pianists are busy with undergrads. It's fine. It will work out.
You get all the applications in on the required date (the day of, obviously) and then you wait.
OCTOBER
You checked all the boxes. You sent everything in on time. You managed to practice once this week. You found enough references.
You have waited at least 2 weeks and, finally, the results are in!
Congratulations, you have received live audition times in NYC in November!
2 auditions in 2 days.
Ok, Porter Airlines, show me a deal! Hotels.com, be a pal.
You find some ok-ish deals but decide maybe you'd better take the bus. It's fine. What's 12 hours overnight? Both ways? For that price, totally worth it!
Find a couch to crash on. Awesome. Or, at least a decent hotel deal (under $150/night, shared bathroom, it's fine.), 7 minute walk from audition #2, 4 starts on Google Reviews! Sweet.
Plan ahead at work so they don't have a coronary that you will be absent most of November. Spend PA Days teaching 8 hours between 3 studios so you don't lose out on too much income or have angry parents emailing that their child does not want a sub no matter how wonderful, personally recommended and qualified they may be.
Your teacher can fit you in once the week before you leave and tells you your Mozart will be fine.
You practiced once this week.
Your students have colds. They coughed on you. You have a sore throat. It must be in your head since you ate enough garlic this week to repel 100 years worth of vampires.
NOVEMBER
It was not in your head. You haven't been able to sing in 2 weeks because you are coughing your lungs out. You can barely teach for fear of losing the only voice you have left. You'll get it together. It's fine. NyQuil was on sale at Shoppers.
This month, the one professional gig you got is preparing to take its production out to the middle of nowhere. You move your students around to be able to make it to Saturday and Sunday rehearsals, you pick up a sub job at a church on Sunday mornings to help pay for your auditions. You are now working 7 days a week. With a cold and big, impending auditions.
You make it out alive and well enough to sing just in time to get to New York. You arrive at a strange time of day because that was the best deal you could get and sign into your hotel/drop your bag off at in a friends living room. Everything looks pretty good and you are psyched to be in NYC.
NYC. Must. Try. And. See. Everything. In 2 Days. And audition twice.
Seeing the MoMA and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the same day was a poor decision. Utterly overwhelming and you are experiencing big time sensory overload. Audition tomorrow morning. Should get to bed. The Chipotle you ate thinking it was a safe bet in both the budget and dietary restrictions category isn't sitting quite right, but you'll live.
Next morning, wake up. Nervous. New city. Must find Jamba Juice. Call the audition venue to book a practice space; booked solid. Rats. Have a smoothie, shower, sing very quietly in the shared bathroom so as not to disturb other guests and realize this is the only warm up you are going to get because there is a warm-up ban in the audition space.
You get your hair and make-up right (after managing to dodge the puddles left in the bathroom by the stranger down the hall like a champ), only for it to be destroyed by the wind as you lug your garment and book bags 20 blocks.
Arrive at the venue,
they're running ahead of schedule. NO PRESSURE. Go to the bathroom to get dressed and fix the mascara that is running down your face because your eye watered the whole walk over. Scare the girl who is trying to put on nylons in the bathroom, she falls over, you both laugh and laugh and even though she doesn't speak English, you both understand the travesty of both nylons and trying to get ready in tiny theatre bathrooms.
You get yourself pulled together, try to hum very quietly so that you don't get kicked out. Make sure your binder is in the correct order and you have everything you were supposed to bring.
The audition slot is five minutes, everyone before you only got to sing one piece. You walk in, smile, introduce yourself, nod to the pianist and breathe.
The pianist doesn't know the piece. The tempo is wrong. It's ok. You were trained for this. Just keep singing, they will find you. Half way through the piece, you're finally together, all the while acting like there is no issue.
You're finished singing. There is a pause.
You smile.
"Thank you. We'll be in touch."
No second piece? Ok. That's cool. Just smile, thank them and go.
The person waiting to go in next asks you what the room is like. You say, "it's fine, a little dead, you might feel like over singing but don't worry. It sounds better out here than it feels in there!"
Go into the bathroom, put your comfies back on. Look at yourself in the mirror. The hair, the make-up and the casual clothes. Perfect.
Spend the day sightseeing but call it an early night and go back to the hotel to watch Netflix because you still have to sing tomorrow.
Get to the next audition, smaller venue, more singers, running way behind schedule. People are name dropping and resume bolstering and putting on their biggest, fakest selves to colleagues. You wait in the hallway, trying not to engage for 40 - 60 minutes as person after person goes in and sings your identical repertoire. Try not to listen. You're different. They will see that.
Right before you go in, the assistant goes in to tell them their dinner break won't be as scheduled and they still have 2 more auditions to hear and they send you in.
Oh no. Hungry panel. They've been here for 8 hours. It's ok. Make them happy they're not eating and that they're here listening to the same aria for the 30th time this hour.
After you sing, they ask, "What else are you working on?"
This is the place that sent an email the night before with extremely specific instructions and requirements. They want to hear something you didn't pack.
"Sorry, I didn't bring that with me," you smile.
"Just a piece of advice, always bring more than what we've asked for," they look at you like they've never been so exhausted with anyone.
"Oh. Ok, thank you!" you manage a grin.
As you leave the space, you begin to shake.
How could I be so dumb? Why didn't I pack everything I have ever learned?!
And then you remind yourself that this is the company that said:
Please do not bring anything we did not specify on the application.
I cannot win.
It's ok. It's over. You did it. Home tomorrow.
First, you have to call the home office of the first audition and if your name appears on their recorded message after 6 pm. You call 3 times before the message has been refreshed. They took 8 singers for call backs after 200 that auditioned that week (out of 3 weeks). Your name was not on the list so you ask the hotel where to find the best pub and they send you down the street.
You're not supposed to drink alcohol because the naturopath said but what does she know about audition season? You have 3 glasses of wine, followed by 2 slices of New York cheese pizza (whatever, you already over did it with the wine) and a donut.
The next morning you're so swollen from allergens that you can't get your boots on.
3 more auditions in your home city and then you're done. And back to work. And a travelling production on the weekends and it's advent so that's always good.
No but really. It's going to be fine.
DECEMBER
2 auditions left. You've got this. One of them doesn't even stress you out because they only ever take one voice type and it's not yours but it was a free audition so you may as well do it for the experience. Because the pressure is off you nail it. But it doesn't matter. Because they were never going to take you. And they don't.
You go on tour with the production you worked on and miss your student's recitals because of it.
The next morning, you wake up covered in tiny, itchy water blisters. You leave it a week hoping it will go away. When they don't, you go to the doctor who sends you to a specialist who tells you it's scabies.
Scabies.
From the hotel in NYC.
The cream costs $30 a tube and your partner has them, too so you end up spending $60 on cream and $40 on laundry because everything has to be washed and dried. Everything.
A week later and they're still not gone so you must treat a second time. 2 tubes of cream and another full day of laundry.
You have also missed 4 Christmas parties scheduled on the same day in 3 cities.You are still working 6 days a week and have your first Sunday off in 8 weeks halfway through December. Because it's your first day off, you get groceries, do laundry, watch a Christmas special and the day is over.
Suddenly it's Christmas. You've received PFO's (Please F*&$ Off's) from nearly every company.
It's then you realize:
I went to New York and all I got was scabies.
