Upon entering, the room didn't look like a labyrinth – the definition of a labyrinth being; a place constructed of or filled with confusing intricate passageways… although the sign over the entry door clearly stated The Labyrinth. But it was just a room – a big room I will admit; nicely decorated with ornate white crown molding offsetting the soft grayish walls on three sides, the forth being fully mirrored. There was a handsomely crafted solid oak table in the middle with a shimmering chandelier seeming to hover over it.
Seeing this I realized the room was just called The Labyrinth. But, as the events started to unfold in that room I found myself entering into a mental and emotional labyrinth of sorts - the seeming labyrinth of major symphony orchestra auditions.
Bass Trombone for the San Antonio Symphony was the position being vied for that day. I was feeling pretty good about myself too. It was only three months earlier that I had auditioned for the Houston Symphony Orchestra. So my "chops" were better than ever for this audition. And besides; San Antonio offered only half the salary as Houston so I was sure the competition wasn't going to be near as tough. Oh little did I know.
One person was already in the room as I was lead in by the polite and charming audition volunteer. Seated at the table was a young man in his twenties; as I had presumed by his appearance. Dressed smartly in a causal shirt and slacks; he exuded an air of confidence equal to mine.
We exchanged cordial head nods as I proceeded over to the row of chairs along the mirrored wall – wearing my usual symphony audition garb of white shirt, black pants and this great tie I had found several years earlier. I can still remember seeing it peeking out from all the flamboyant, colorful, bold print ties on the rack. As I pulled out this black and white tie with abstract like swooshes into the light of day I exclaimed, "This is going to be my symphony audition tie from now on. And so it is.
I set my trombone case down on one of the chairs; opened it; assembled the instrument and started blowing deep slow breaths through it. My fellow auditioner, with his trombone out on the table in front of him, sat in an almost trance like state preparing his mind and body for the Oh so few minutes we have on stage to show the audition committee our best.
As I sat down in the chair next to my trombone case I noticed the gentleman starting to stir so I asked him where he was from. He answered Abilene. Ah good, I thought to myself. A very nice town smack dab in the middle of Texas with a good Christian University and an excellent music school. But, in all my college years I studied with the principal trombonist for the Houston Symphony so I thought this shouldn't be too much of a problem. Then he went on to say he was now a graduate student at De Paul University working towards a doctorate. This meant he was currently studying with the bass trombonist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra – probably my most favorite bass trombonist and orchestra of all time. Seeing as how I figured the competition wasn't going to be that much; the confusing intricate passageways started to take shape in my mind with turn of events. The chat tapered off as both of us went into semi meditations preparing our minds to be calm and focused during the upcoming moments of shear terror.
Another trombonist entered; with trombone case slung over his shoulder he exclaimed, "Labyrinth? What the hell." Recognition lit up the face of the fellow at the table as he stood, stretched out his hand and greeted the new comer saying, "Why, I haven't seen you since the Navy Band audition. How are you?" Reminisces then ensued.
The next guy to enter I myself recognized - another twenty something young man who auditioned along with me for the Houston Symphony months earlier. He was the one sent to the second round out of our group. I then had the sensation of water starting to inundate those confusing intricate passageways of my mind.
A big smile came across his face as he saw the other two - naturally, acquaintances all. In fact, three more trombonists followed in close proximity; not only in the time of arrival but their station in life – trombonists who traveled the country from audition to audition. So; gathered in front of me were six trombonists, in their middle twenties, all working on master degrees or doctorates from major universities and studying with the top trombone professor around. Here I was, my college way behind me, lucky to get two to three hours of practice in after working all day at my full time non music day job. By then I was just amazed though. Somehow, I had been placed in the same audition time slot with some of the best young guns in the orchestral auditioning world.
Gleeful chatter filled The Labyrinth. Amongst the cacophony of two to three simultaneous conversations I could pick out statements like, "I made it through the first round of the LA Phil audition last month"; "Yeah, I went all the way up to the final round at the Navy Band audition."; "What's up with the Labyrinth?"; "The guy who won the LA Phil job was a person nobody had ever heard of."
Just minutes earlier I had entered The Labyrinth head high and full of confidence. Now I felt like I was having to dog paddle just to keep my head above water. But I did maintain my composure and joined in the conversation as much as I felt comfortable. Even though they were all of an age I wasn't, my conversation was accepted as part of the groups. I guess, in the big picture of things, once a trombonist always a trombonist. But for some reason, I didn't get up and join my fellow trombonists at the table they were gathered around. No… for some reason I steadfastly held to my self appointed position of Old Fart along the Mirrored Wall.
The din diminished as the audition volunteer entered caring a small cardboard box containing seven slips of paper with numbers written on them. We were to draw one slip of paper and the number would determine the order in which we auditioned. As I looked at my slip I saw the big number seven on it. Great, I was to audition after the committee heard all of the young guns play. I thought to myself, "Well, my audition won't take long." But at that point I was just honored at still being invited to auditions such as this. Now, I was there for the experience and simple pleasure of seeing this new generation of trombonists as they start out on their journeys in life.
From what I had heard; the auditions started at 8 am and continued until 6 pm for two days. All musicians were assigned to a certain hour in which to audition. As our hour came close the first trombonist was escorted to a warm up room for his final preparation. As the process started a more serious atmosphere enveloped the room; some playing softly on their instruments; some seated off by them selves in contemplation; some in quiet conversation. About every ten minutes the next auditioner was lead to a practice room as the one who just auditioned re-enter the room to wait until the end of the hour. At which point the winner or winners of this round would be announced.
Relief is usually the first thing noticed on the faces of the people re-entering; sometimes exaltation at knowing they just nailed their audition; sometimes reserve at not being sure how the committee would vote on their performance. In one instance on that day, a trombonist re-entered the room totally flustered, snatched up his trombone case and set it on the table with a thud. Then without a word, packed up his horn and left before the hour was up. We all sat in quiet respect through the ordeal. All of us understood the emotions of being under the gun for just those brief few minutes… minutes in which months of diligent preparation can go haywire in a second. Maybe that is the bond that holds us who put our egos and pride on the chopping block of symphony auditions together – no matter how much distance there might be in our years.
We sat waiting for what seemed like an eternity after the last person in our hour returned… which, if you remember was me. In the next few moments, one person's life was just about to take a step closer to the dream of becoming a full time professional orchestra musician. An almost reverence marked everyone's demeanor as the audition volunteer entered the room. After thanking us for taking the time to audition for the SAS she read the name of the one person that was passed on to the next round.
I looked at the faces of all those who had done so well in big time auditions before; their faces filled with disbelief and confusion. Especially the ones face who just months earlier made it through the first round for an orchestra with twice the annual budget of the SAS. "What do we have to do to win an audition?" seemed to be the general look on everyone's face as they mentally started scurrying through those confusing intricate passageways of the labyrinths in their minds.
As far as I could tell, although very capable and respected, the winner wasn't one of the ones expected to make it. But this seemed to be his day - which he gratefully accepted with a reserved fist pump. Sincere congratulation then spread as everyone adjusted to and accepted the outcome of this hour. We gathered our belongings and made way for the next round of trombonists and their turn in The Labyrinth.
Once in the hallway, on our way to the front door, the six of us now conversed about the future – the immediate future that is. Questions filled the conversations like, "What hotel are you staying at? When are you leaving? Hey, you want to go down to the River Walk later and get something to eat?" I was staying with my son who lives in San Antonio that night so I wasn't able to be a part of the evening's activities. But for those few brief moments though, headed out the front door walked five young guns and one old gun. All had just taken part in one of the most gut wrenching, mind numbing events in professional music – a symphony audition. Now, we were comrades in arms – so to speak.
I don't know, maybe the person who named the room was a bit of a prophet or something; maybe they had a premonition of what would happen one day in that room; or maybe they were just eating one of those funny mushrooms and named the room after what they psychedelically perceived upon entering. Who knows?
All I know is that with the hundreds of highly qualified and talented musicians all competing for just a hand full of positions it can seem like you have to struggle just to keep your head above water. This over all abundance can also make the selection process seem inconsistent and even flawed at times – leaving the musician wondering just exactly what do I have to do to win. My heart does go out to the judges for having to choose just one person out of the scores and scores of people auditioning. With all of this though, it is almost certain that at some point, all musicians reaching for that elusive dream on one day becoming a full time professional orchestra musician will feel as if they too are dog paddling in the Labyrinth of life.
Seeing this I realized the room was just called The Labyrinth. But, as the events started to unfold in that room I found myself entering into a mental and emotional labyrinth of sorts - the seeming labyrinth of major symphony orchestra auditions.
Bass Trombone for the San Antonio Symphony was the position being vied for that day. I was feeling pretty good about myself too. It was only three months earlier that I had auditioned for the Houston Symphony Orchestra. So my "chops" were better than ever for this audition. And besides; San Antonio offered only half the salary as Houston so I was sure the competition wasn't going to be near as tough. Oh little did I know.
One person was already in the room as I was lead in by the polite and charming audition volunteer. Seated at the table was a young man in his twenties; as I had presumed by his appearance. Dressed smartly in a causal shirt and slacks; he exuded an air of confidence equal to mine.
We exchanged cordial head nods as I proceeded over to the row of chairs along the mirrored wall – wearing my usual symphony audition garb of white shirt, black pants and this great tie I had found several years earlier. I can still remember seeing it peeking out from all the flamboyant, colorful, bold print ties on the rack. As I pulled out this black and white tie with abstract like swooshes into the light of day I exclaimed, "This is going to be my symphony audition tie from now on. And so it is.
I set my trombone case down on one of the chairs; opened it; assembled the instrument and started blowing deep slow breaths through it. My fellow auditioner, with his trombone out on the table in front of him, sat in an almost trance like state preparing his mind and body for the Oh so few minutes we have on stage to show the audition committee our best.
As I sat down in the chair next to my trombone case I noticed the gentleman starting to stir so I asked him where he was from. He answered Abilene. Ah good, I thought to myself. A very nice town smack dab in the middle of Texas with a good Christian University and an excellent music school. But, in all my college years I studied with the principal trombonist for the Houston Symphony so I thought this shouldn't be too much of a problem. Then he went on to say he was now a graduate student at De Paul University working towards a doctorate. This meant he was currently studying with the bass trombonist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra – probably my most favorite bass trombonist and orchestra of all time. Seeing as how I figured the competition wasn't going to be that much; the confusing intricate passageways started to take shape in my mind with turn of events. The chat tapered off as both of us went into semi meditations preparing our minds to be calm and focused during the upcoming moments of shear terror.
Another trombonist entered; with trombone case slung over his shoulder he exclaimed, "Labyrinth? What the hell." Recognition lit up the face of the fellow at the table as he stood, stretched out his hand and greeted the new comer saying, "Why, I haven't seen you since the Navy Band audition. How are you?" Reminisces then ensued.
The next guy to enter I myself recognized - another twenty something young man who auditioned along with me for the Houston Symphony months earlier. He was the one sent to the second round out of our group. I then had the sensation of water starting to inundate those confusing intricate passageways of my mind.
A big smile came across his face as he saw the other two - naturally, acquaintances all. In fact, three more trombonists followed in close proximity; not only in the time of arrival but their station in life – trombonists who traveled the country from audition to audition. So; gathered in front of me were six trombonists, in their middle twenties, all working on master degrees or doctorates from major universities and studying with the top trombone professor around. Here I was, my college way behind me, lucky to get two to three hours of practice in after working all day at my full time non music day job. By then I was just amazed though. Somehow, I had been placed in the same audition time slot with some of the best young guns in the orchestral auditioning world.
Gleeful chatter filled The Labyrinth. Amongst the cacophony of two to three simultaneous conversations I could pick out statements like, "I made it through the first round of the LA Phil audition last month"; "Yeah, I went all the way up to the final round at the Navy Band audition."; "What's up with the Labyrinth?"; "The guy who won the LA Phil job was a person nobody had ever heard of."
Just minutes earlier I had entered The Labyrinth head high and full of confidence. Now I felt like I was having to dog paddle just to keep my head above water. But I did maintain my composure and joined in the conversation as much as I felt comfortable. Even though they were all of an age I wasn't, my conversation was accepted as part of the groups. I guess, in the big picture of things, once a trombonist always a trombonist. But for some reason, I didn't get up and join my fellow trombonists at the table they were gathered around. No… for some reason I steadfastly held to my self appointed position of Old Fart along the Mirrored Wall.
The din diminished as the audition volunteer entered caring a small cardboard box containing seven slips of paper with numbers written on them. We were to draw one slip of paper and the number would determine the order in which we auditioned. As I looked at my slip I saw the big number seven on it. Great, I was to audition after the committee heard all of the young guns play. I thought to myself, "Well, my audition won't take long." But at that point I was just honored at still being invited to auditions such as this. Now, I was there for the experience and simple pleasure of seeing this new generation of trombonists as they start out on their journeys in life.
From what I had heard; the auditions started at 8 am and continued until 6 pm for two days. All musicians were assigned to a certain hour in which to audition. As our hour came close the first trombonist was escorted to a warm up room for his final preparation. As the process started a more serious atmosphere enveloped the room; some playing softly on their instruments; some seated off by them selves in contemplation; some in quiet conversation. About every ten minutes the next auditioner was lead to a practice room as the one who just auditioned re-enter the room to wait until the end of the hour. At which point the winner or winners of this round would be announced.
Relief is usually the first thing noticed on the faces of the people re-entering; sometimes exaltation at knowing they just nailed their audition; sometimes reserve at not being sure how the committee would vote on their performance. In one instance on that day, a trombonist re-entered the room totally flustered, snatched up his trombone case and set it on the table with a thud. Then without a word, packed up his horn and left before the hour was up. We all sat in quiet respect through the ordeal. All of us understood the emotions of being under the gun for just those brief few minutes… minutes in which months of diligent preparation can go haywire in a second. Maybe that is the bond that holds us who put our egos and pride on the chopping block of symphony auditions together – no matter how much distance there might be in our years.
We sat waiting for what seemed like an eternity after the last person in our hour returned… which, if you remember was me. In the next few moments, one person's life was just about to take a step closer to the dream of becoming a full time professional orchestra musician. An almost reverence marked everyone's demeanor as the audition volunteer entered the room. After thanking us for taking the time to audition for the SAS she read the name of the one person that was passed on to the next round.
I looked at the faces of all those who had done so well in big time auditions before; their faces filled with disbelief and confusion. Especially the ones face who just months earlier made it through the first round for an orchestra with twice the annual budget of the SAS. "What do we have to do to win an audition?" seemed to be the general look on everyone's face as they mentally started scurrying through those confusing intricate passageways of the labyrinths in their minds.
As far as I could tell, although very capable and respected, the winner wasn't one of the ones expected to make it. But this seemed to be his day - which he gratefully accepted with a reserved fist pump. Sincere congratulation then spread as everyone adjusted to and accepted the outcome of this hour. We gathered our belongings and made way for the next round of trombonists and their turn in The Labyrinth.
Once in the hallway, on our way to the front door, the six of us now conversed about the future – the immediate future that is. Questions filled the conversations like, "What hotel are you staying at? When are you leaving? Hey, you want to go down to the River Walk later and get something to eat?" I was staying with my son who lives in San Antonio that night so I wasn't able to be a part of the evening's activities. But for those few brief moments though, headed out the front door walked five young guns and one old gun. All had just taken part in one of the most gut wrenching, mind numbing events in professional music – a symphony audition. Now, we were comrades in arms – so to speak.
I don't know, maybe the person who named the room was a bit of a prophet or something; maybe they had a premonition of what would happen one day in that room; or maybe they were just eating one of those funny mushrooms and named the room after what they psychedelically perceived upon entering. Who knows?
All I know is that with the hundreds of highly qualified and talented musicians all competing for just a hand full of positions it can seem like you have to struggle just to keep your head above water. This over all abundance can also make the selection process seem inconsistent and even flawed at times – leaving the musician wondering just exactly what do I have to do to win. My heart does go out to the judges for having to choose just one person out of the scores and scores of people auditioning. With all of this though, it is almost certain that at some point, all musicians reaching for that elusive dream on one day becoming a full time professional orchestra musician will feel as if they too are dog paddling in the Labyrinth of life.
Jim
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