"Snow White is already here!" The Joys of the Season

Hello merry colleagues! I hope THE SEASON has been kind to you this year (for my non-musician colleagues, this time if year is when musicians don't sleep and barely bathe in order to sock away enough money to cover the next 2 months rent.) I'm sure you're expecting me to expound on some super enlightening spiritual reflection gleaned from an awesome and well-paid gig, but that is not the case this 2011. Not that I haven't been on some meaningful gigs this season, like at a children's hospital. But let's face facts: I have been running around LA dressed like a towns person from an early Disney movie,sming till my cheeks ache and waving at strangers like the crazed non-Angeleno I am. So I thought that the greatest joy we could bring each other this Christmas day is to share stories of comical Season happenings. I'll start:

I show up early to a caroling gig in costume - Victorian costume, which is standard. The contact asks me if I'm Snow White. I say no, and tell him I'm with The Music Companies. He proceeds to tell several patients - and when she gets there, my boss - that Snow White has arrived.

Caroling on the sidewalks of a shopping center during the day. An SUV pulls up, and the 11 (count them, 11) dogs, ranging from tiny terrier to Rottweiler, stare at our quartet out the open windows. A few of them start howling.

Caroling at a private event. Return to the table of a skeptical 3-4 year old boy and his parents. As soon as we come back around, said boy throws his head in his arms and starts bawling inconsolably.

Best Request this year: On Christmas Eve day, Mom in a mall food court requests "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It" by Will Smith, which came out in 1998. I'm proud to say we were able to at least oblige with the chorus, which was warmly received.

I'd love to hear your Season stories, especially your best requests. Hopefully your costumes are still intact and you haven't stomped on, attempted to burn, or otherwise damaged your jingle bells. After all, you'll need them for next year.

Audition Crashers! coming to an NYC studio near you

Ooooooooooh my colleagues, it has been a while! In the upheaval of audition season I fully acknowledge that I have been a sub-par colleague and neglected you.

Right now I am in New York City at the height of this audition season of 2011 (fun fact: I have only ever been in New York for winter auditions. No wonder it kindof makes me nervous flying in), and I have noticed a phenomenon that I have only heard spoken of in passing: audition crashing. Today I witnessed it artfully done by two congenial colleagues in the infamous halls of NOLA studios on West 54th Street, and it made me stop to wonder - just how DO you do it well, and who teaches you?

My guess is that you learn from watching your colleagues, as I did today. These two talented guys (too bad they weren't tenors, that would have made for some great alliteration) had performed with the company they were crashing before, and so waited for the monitor (person keeping track of the appointments list) to come out, greeted him, handed him their resumes and asked "if they were allowing anyone to crash." Although those auditions were getting pretty behind schedule, they both got to sing, and within an hour at that (Sidenote here for our musical theater colleagues who, if non-union, often have to wait up to 8 hours to be heard for 20 seconds: as far as I can tell, you are way more hard core than we are. In my limited experience, I have never seen or heard of a classical singer waiting for that anywhere near that long to audition.) Following my own audition - incidentally after both the crashers had sung - I saw another guy asking the same question of both the monitors in the hallway, without even really knowing what either company was.

I saw this happen in the very same hallway last year. Curiously, all the instances of audition crashing that I have witnessed have been by men. Now, while I truly believe there is a time, place and gig for all of us, it is widely acknowledged that at these long company auditions (notice the avoidance of the tacky term "cattle call" - lets not refer to ourselves as smelly bovines), men are in much shorter supply, and therefore probably in higher demand. Does that mean it just "isn't done" for a woman to crash an audition? Is there any bold and brave div-ette out there who has done it? All of us eavesdropping in the holding room would love to know how!

It seems standard when crashing to bring your resume - much like bringing a gift when crashing a wedding - for the monitor to take in for the directors' review. Showing up in audition attire just seems like common sense - we aren't Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happiness (at least, we'll explore those parallels in a later post). Should one also send in a headshot? Is it very cynical of me to think that might be helpful for a female crasher? A little research always helps beforehand, but unless you've reached a certain professional level do you have to know someone in the company? Your colleagues who have reserved appointments have often paid a fee for the application and/or accompanist - should you bring your checkbook to be fair, but without seeming to bribe anyone?

Dear colleagues, please send me your stories of auditions you've crashed and crashers you've witnessed. Has anyone out there been coached on correct crashing? Lets bring this out of those cramped studio halls and into the open internet air - it might just give some of us a little extra courage to try it ourselves.

Happy hunting and a big hockin TOI TOI* to everyone!


*verbal simulation of the Mediterranean tradition of spitting on someone to give them luck. Yes it's weird. blame the Italians.

Musicians are Mental - or at least we should be

Let me start by saying, I don't really like self-help books. I have a bunch and people always tell me to read dozens of different ones, and I always read like 10 pages and set it aside. They seem too preachy, or just make me feel like I could be doing more than I am, but I don't and that makes me feel even worse. Until I realized THAT was the problem! I, like practically every musician and performer I know, beat myself up pretty much on a daily basis. Shockingly enough, this is not helpful. Especially when one is trying to perform. But I knew I absolutely did not want to read or attempt to read another book about smart musicians who get it together.

Then someone very dear to me, who has been a classical musician a lot longer than I have, recommended the book Golf Is Not a Game of Perfect by Dr. Bob Rotella, one of the most successful sports psychologists ever, who specializes in working with golfers. Yes I know, golfers are definitely not musicians - whether they are even artists, as the book sometimes suggests, is highly debatable. But think about it: golfers are obsessed with their technique, just like we are. They are forced to compete directly against other individuals, just as we are in auditions. During tournaments golfers are performing in high pressure situations in front of an audience, and while the elements may thwart them (windy day on a course=singing in a dead hall) at the end of the day they have no teammates or referees to blame if they screw up.

The point Dr. Rotella makes is that practicing technique will only get you so far -we all sound great in the practice room. The difference, he says, between those who succeed when it's time to perform and those who choke is the mental side of things - how well we have disciplined our minds not to screw us over with negative  or distracting thoughts. How important it is to be comfortable performing with the technique you have, and to remember that you cannot give yourself a lesson during a performance.

This last thought is one of the things that struck me the most. How many times have I been auditioning or performing and listening so intently to myself, trying to immediately correct my technique in the middle of singing? It's ridiculous to think about, but I do it all the time, and I know many musicians who do. He reminds us that "golf is not a game of perfect" - no one plays it perfectly, but by preparing yourself mentally to perform  up to your greatest potential, you are much likely to get closer to perfect. We think that the only kind of self-discipline is being hard on yourself, but it takes much greater will-power and a lot more work to be kind to yourself. This is the work that we most neglect, but is so essential to performing our best.

So this is my attempt to be a good colleague this week: if you're tough on yourself and spend a lot of time beating yourself up, check out the book. You won't be able to say "well, I'm not like that singer he worked with, so this won't work for me" because they aren't singers! You will however be shocked at the parallels. You do need a rudimentary knowledge of golf terminology, but a Wikipedia article will tell you all you need to know. Have fun making yourself mental - in a good way.

I GOT IN!!!...(<----jerk?)

Let me start by saying, I love my singer friends. It took a while; there were many semesters in undergrad when I would only associate with jazz majors because singers drove me crazy. Now most of my all-time favorite people and some of the best colleagues I know are singers. I love when they do well, love LOVE it! I also work in managing classical singers, so I really do love spreading the gigs around.

HOWEVER, am I alone in wondering how tasteful/considerate it is to broadcast your acceptance news IN ALL CAPS ON YOUR FACEBOOK WALL???!!!! seriously. I can't make up my mind on how I feel about this. I love knowing how my friends and colleagues are doing. I love going to their shows - more often than my significant other would like, in fact. But is it a little insensitive to use social media this way? Especially for things that you know lots of your other colleagues probably got rejection letters from?

Should we not care? Should we proudly claim our accomplishments and know that our true friends and supporters will be thrilled and that everyone else will get over it or unfriend us? Is there a happy medium? Is there a tasteful, humble, grateful way to acknowledge one's hard-earned success? Is there a backlash for people who do this kind of thing? I know I tend to think that people who are constantly BROADCASTING THEIR SUCESS!!!! don't need any more gigs and so aren't the first on my list to call. Am I an inadvertent hater/....bad colleague? (dun dun DUNNNNNNN!!!)

I think in this age of social media, this is applicable to many non-music related events: getting into a prestigious college, or job, country club, I dunno. Should we care that people, maybe people we know/are friends with, got rejected for that same position? Not all of us can have newsletters - maybe we should, but let's face it, we don't. I kindof think that an email list would be a more effective way to be nice, but perhaps not the best advertising for your accomplishments. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm, what are the other options?

- Post a more formal announcement "I am proud to announce that I ________" and leave it at that.
- reserve these ecstatic posts for your musician/band Facebook page, website, email list, etc.
- post a formal press release/flyer/announcement from the company that has your name on it - that way  they're doing the bragging for you, right?
- leave the ecstatic bragging for your mom/significant other, because you know they'll be posting it everywhere.

Actors, musicians, competitive performers/athletes of any kind, I'd love to know your thoughts. Do we proudly and loudly gush about our achievements, or tone it down a notch to spare others' feelings. 

That S is burning a hole in your dress...

I recently learned - from one of the (ahem) awesome followers of this blog - of a true instance not only of being an amazing colleague, but of a really effective audition/performance prep technique. I have (un-creatively) dubbed it: The Superman Effect.

Apparently the talented guys of the Presidio Brass ensemble have a routine before they perform at showcase or a show that pretty much makes them some of the most awesome colleagues I've ever heard of. They pump each other up right before the show by telling each other that they are...Superman. No, really. That's the routine. It goes a little something like this:

Trumpet A : Dude, your cape is showing, it's totally flowing right out of your back
Trumpet B : Yeah man, I feel it, it's kindof heavy but it's blowing in the wind and feels awesome. You better be careful, that Superman S is burning right through your shirt, do you see it? Cuz I see it
Trumpet A: Yeah, I see it, its freakin huge today (sketches big S with finger across his own chest)
Trumpet B: You're gonna have to by a new shirt, it's that strong, its actually blinding me
Trumpet A: Your cape is totally going to knock something over and may blow us all off the stage
Trumpet B: We are totally going to rock this
Trumpet A: **** yeah we are!

You get the idea. Silly? Absolutely, and that's the beauty of it. Right when you're the most nervous, it makes you laugh. But you don't feel that stupid, because someone else is pumping you up, and relying on you to do it for them. Like football players doing ridiculous grunty chants before a game - because it works. And while you want to scoff at your colleague because it sounds so dumb, the smarter part of you knows that participating in this goofy back and forth is a lot better for your morale and mindset than all the negative self-talk and self-doubt you would otherwise be indulging in.

This past weekend I had an audition, and the talented second trumpet player from Presidio happened to be on hand to give me the Superman/woman treatment firsthand. I wanted to scoff, to brush it off, but instead when he told me my S was burning through my dress, I smiled and emphatically outlined it with my finger from shoulder to shoulder. Later, while I was singing my audition, I felt the nasty critical thoughts creeping in, and instead I felt my cape billowing out from my shoulders, and away they ran like comic book villains, to return yes, but only to be vanquished again by the superpowers blasting through my carefully selected audition attire.

So on October 22nd and 23rd, when my stalwart and awesome cast is performing The Yeoman of the Guard at Opera San Luis Obispo, I know what I'll be saying to them: "Girl, the costume designer is going to kill you because that S is burning a hole right through that dress."

Pianists: Our partners in crime

TO STOP OR NOT TO STOP, THAT IS THE QUESTION!!

We've all been there. You have given the pianist your tempo at an audition or masterclass. Suddenly however, they are 3 bars behind. Or someone has just added some benzadrine to their water and presto is their new favorite marking. Or they just....stop playing...for a couple of bars...or play so many wrong notes that Schoenberg is calling them from the grave for new ideas while you search for your key.

You breathe. You try your hardest NOT to look panicked. You resist the urge to conduct. You keep going, but all the while your mind is yelling at you "Just Stop!! Just stop and start over!!" but you know it is DEATH to stop. What do you do??

While you're performing/auditioning: Try to give cues without conducting. Angle yourself to the side so the pianist can see you breathe. If they've stopped playing, keep going, they'll catch you. BREATHE. this sounds ridiculous, but try to laugh at it - this is one of those moments when they can see how truly awesome you are as you work it out despite accompaniment issues. Avoid all dirty looks and knee-jerk reactions to stare down the pianist with that "what's going on?? expression".

After you're done: remind yourself that you LOVE pianists, and of all the coaches and accompanists that have made you sound great. Remind yourself to take your time next time with a pianist to really show them the tempo - especially if your union, like Equity or SAG, grants you a certain amount of time onstage no matter what. I have one bold friend who asked the piano to demonstrate a few bars for her before she started singing, since she had heard the tempi were a little off that day. This is only for the fearless, but if you really need your tempo, ask nicely and be clear.

SMILE at them, even if you secretly want to cut their throats afterwards. Chances are they are very embarrassed at any mistakes they've made, and even if they aren't, you'll look so gracious. Remember, pianists are most often the colleagues we work most intimately with. If you have fun and are nice, how can they resist you? Surely a smile will cause them to hang on your every syllable, to breathe with you and create the most perfect accompaniment ever. And if it doesn't, well, at least you'll look good. Thank them anyway, theirs is a thankless job, and we couldn't do ours without them

Colleague? Really?

So here it goes yall!

Welcome to The Good Colleague, my brand spanking new blog about working with other musicians in professional settings of all sorts, no matter how - ahem - "professional" (or otherwise) the situation may seem.

So why the word colleague? Who even uses that word? I had a music history professor in undergrad that we all thought was very stuffy and out of touch with what we needed to learn. Many of us learned later when working with her one on one that she was actually very helpful, and for me personally later on in grad school she was actually one of my former professors with whom I kept most in touch. ANYWAY, in lectures she used to refer to all of us collectively as "colleagues." At the time it just seemed stuffy, pretentious and old fashioned. We were cool kids coming back from Katrina to save New Orleans - we didn't know what we were, but we weren't "colleagues."

In recent years however, the word, like the musicologist, has really grown on me. In professional situations, we aren't always bandmates, and we're usually contracted so we're not co-workers. As musicians for hire, we often wear so many different hats: accompanist, soloist, ensemble member, backup, leader, supporting role, hired gun - how do you refer to the people you perform and work with? What about the crew, the stage hands, the sound guys, the costume and makeup staff, the drivers and all the other people that go into making a performance happen? I mean, you could consider yourself the only REAL musician and refer to everyone else as "The Others," "Those cats," or just "people". That would definitely be the basis of a reputation for being incredibly eccentric....or just a colossal jerk.

And isn't that what we're all trying to avoid? That's why we're here, or at least, that's why I'm here. This blog is about asking questions and looking for answers on trying not to be a jerk to the people you work and perform with. For starters, try referring or maybe even thinking of them as colleagues. Don't you feel smarter and more professional already?