Every night I tap away at the keyboard, I've finished work for the day but it's time to create a post for Blog on the Tracks. I may have been to a gig so it's particularly late, or I may have time to dash out the blog-post before I go to a gig. In the weekends I write too. That's my choice. But it's also something I have to do. I'm compelled to. Sometimes I'm commissioned so the choice of it is less of an option. But you have to keep trying. You have to punch the clock. Sometimes you really do want to punch it.
The audition process was not always like this. The word audition did not have its current connotation until the late nineteenth century. Prior to this, if a young man was interested in acting, he arranged an interview with a company manager, not an audition. Young Mr. Prescott would arrive at his appointment with the august Mr. Postlethwaite who was waiting in a book-filled office, a warm fire burning in the fireplace. Over tea, the company manager would ask questions about young Prescott’s intentions and interests, summing up the boy’s moral character and judging his suitability for the troupe. If all went smoothly, Prescott would be engaged as the company’s newest apprentice. He would start by playing Spear Carrier before graduating to a small speaking role—“Yes, my liege”—in another show. The grand actors of the company would perform their best Hamlets and Cleopatras, and Prescott would absorb all the training he needed through osmosis. After a number of seasons, his name would be on the bill playing a leading role. Mr. Prescott appearing as Romeo. Quaint. Genteel. Encouraging.
My favorite auditioner was a young woman who sang Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”Just the choice of song was an invitation to ridicule. That poor girl was probably no older than I was when I auditioned for The Sound of Music. But I let her sing the whole song, not because I was kind or because I thought the theater would hire her. No, I let her sing because I was so entertained that someone would earnestly sing this rock-and-roll song a cappella, swaying to the music that only she heard in her head. She was a rock star in a private universe, complete with imaginary microphone and spotlight. I let that kid think she was doing well, that I liked her, that she might have a chance. Oh, I liked her alright. That night I had my friends roaring with laughter: “This girl with leg warmers screeched out a Pat Benatar song! You'll die!”
I worked as a casting director for three years and had to give it up. There is something wrong with a job where you judge 99.9% of people as wrong. I came to view the world through ugly glasses. When I would meet anyone anywhere, shortcomings and quirks became grotesquely magnified. “It’s so nice to meet you,” I would say to a new acquaintance while thinking, “Those jeans are two sizes too small. You should sue your hairdresser. Is that a nose job?”
After I got out of the casting biz, I was hired to direct a play at a smaller theater, a company with no casting director. I had to run my own auditions. Luckily, some good actors appeared and I swallowed any impulse to laugh at them. Toward the end, I had cast the entire show in my head. All but one role. I still needed someone to play the minor, comic role of the loud-mouthed, over-bearing waitress.
The last actor walked in for her audition. She was tiny, not the powerhouse I wanted. She read from the script tentatively, messing up lines. I mentally dismissed her. But instead of cowing to the pressure and turning red or crying—she laughed. Hard and long. At herself. “It’s the worst audition ever!” she screamed. She started again, fumbled words, paused and laughed again. “Forget it! I’m nervous. I’m terrible! Thanks anyway.” She exited.
I was excited to hear the news that Lil' Band O' Gold is returning to New Zealand. I saw the band 18 months ago, just after they had released The Promised Land and were touring in support of both that and a superb documentary film, The Promised Land: A Swamp Pop Journey (click on that link to see the trailer). I've watched that film a few times now and I'll be returning to it before the show. It's heart-warming. And it gives a context for so much of the music - for the players in the band too.
