Toby the Tenor

To be a professional musician, first you have to be a professional auditioner. Having a good technique, a solid musicianship, a pinpoint accurate sense of pitch and an exquisite sense of phrasing is great once a musician gets a job but if they get the jitters at the thought of being judged or, worse, being rejected when it really matters, a performer may never realise their dream. 

When I was a post graduate singing student, tenors were thin on the ground. Getting auditions was easy, even before I had an agent. I would tuck my two arias under my arm, a Mozart and a Rossini, one in German and one in Italian, neither of which I could sing very well, and set out for an unfamiliar audition venue two or three times a week. 

I’d arrive at the audition to be greeted by an assistant who was often stressed about timings or something else beyond my control. It would often occur to me that ensuring calm and controlled conditions around those of us about to audition came second to everything else. 

I’d be seated in a corridor with all the other candidates. A pianist would appear and ask, “How would you like this to go?”

Resisting the temptation to say “Quite well, if possible”, I’d hand over my copy of the two arias and point to various markings I’d made – a breath here, a pause there – and hope their experience and my trust in providence would carry us through.

It wasn’t long before I grew tired of relying on hope and resolved to control as many of the audition vagaries as I could. 

First, my choice of audition pieces shifted to arias I knew I could sing well on any day. Out went Tamino’s difficult portrait aria from the Magic Flute and in came Tamino’s charming second aria with which the prince learns he can tame wild beasts by playing his newly acquired flute, the magic one of the title. Most tenors wouldn’t think of doing this second aria because it’s not the famous one and it ends inconclusively with an interrupted cadence, meaning it doesn’t have a rum-tee-tum ending. I gave the open+ended music a simple rewrite so as not to leave the audition aria hanging in the air like an unanswered question. 

My thinking went the other way. I thought about the audition process from the point of view of those on the audition panel. “They must spend their lives listening to the portrait aria,” I thought to myself, “give them something they don’t hear so often.” 

I ran with the idea of giving them something they didn’t know so well and, with the help of Emanuele Moris, the Italian coach at the Guildhall School, found an aria from Rossini’s late opera seria Elisabetta, Regina d’Inghilterra that was so obscure I had to make a facsimile of a C19th score from the British Library. 

The aria was long but dramatic and it fitted the compass of my voice perfectly. The opening recitative started low and lugubrious, which I hoped would allow me to demonstrate the maturity and gravitas in my singing. I would perform the doom stricken central section as if through gritted teeth and the final fast E minor section allowed me to show off my trumpet-like top B♮, youthful and indefatigable as it was in those days – all these qualities I describe are to be taken with a pinch of salt; I was young. I don’t mean to boast by writing these things, they were simply my strengths and I found an aria that displayed them. 

With the strong aria choices made, the next task was to remove the random element of working with pianists I didn’t know and who were less familiar than me with the music I was presenting, especially the Rossini in its dog-eared and sketchy, movable type, xeroxed edition. I would ask a favour from a pianist friend or pay a pianist to come with me to the audition to give a fully rehearsed rendition of the arias. 

Then came my appearance. I found a dark blue suit that fitted well and paired it with smart shoes and a nice tie that wasn’t too clubby or public school. Back in the mid ‘90s the smart look was apposite for young men in an audition and I reckoned I looked pretty fly, which helped me feel confident. 

And then I thought I would embody that new confidence for the panel, even if I felt nervous. I would walk into the room or onto the stage and say clearly and with assurance “Good afternoon. My name is Toby Spence and this is *name of pianist*. We are going to perform two arias for you. Tamino’s second aria from The Magic Flute and Essex’s aria from Rossini’s Elisabetta, Regina d’Inghilterra. Which one would you like to hear first?” Always hoping they would ask to hear the Mozart first because it’s a good warm-up aria. 

At the end I would thank the panel and thank the pianist, then leave the room. It seems so basic when I write it down like this but I now sit on the other side of the room in auditions from time to time and I see young hopefuls fail to analyse the process from the perspective of the panelist’s over and over again. 

Bel canto arias by Bellini are the Fisher-Price piecemeal of auditions. Please, don’t show me you’re an analogue of an old tradition because I will know whether you can spin a line of music, uninterrupted by consonants, from my own experience and expertise. Show me you are SOMEONE. Show me you have IDEAS. Show me something NEW.

Tomorrow I will tell you about the worst audition I ever did, of which all the aggravating circumstances were entirely my own making.