Well, i think the world is overcrowded with bands and singers, and all types of music and lyrics, but i still insist on becoming a singer.
every time i hear a power ballad i can only imagine my self-performing it on stage to thousands loving loyal fans, the sweat dribbling over my face, while i unleash those extremely impossible notes, while the fans go crazy, light up their lighters\candles, scream out for me, reach out, as i offer them new refuge and a whole different existence. An existence and a world only possible to exist by the power of music.
But that’s not the case.
I recently had a terrible band experience that ended up by the band parting away due to style preferences, or that’s what they said.
Before that i also auditioned for a band, but they were “looking for a much cleaner face”
And before it, that’s when it all started. I was reading the newspaper, and noticed an ad for auditions. Auditions for an NGO, in order to perform for a gala party and raise money for their cause and, and, and, etc… Oh well, i had nothing to lose, i signed up, and after some emails, the songs were assigned, and the so were the dates and timing. But that’s not how it went. I couldn’t tell people i was auditioning; i don’t like sharing a possibly failing experience with family and friends. i hatched up a plan, a master plan, one so complex, that every time i recall it i have to bow down to my intellectual abilities in planning thing. i won’t go into the detail, for that would take so much typing, and its late, and i am sleepy, and all i want to do now, is get this post done. So the plan went according to plan, and nobody knew that i auditioned. On the day of auditions, i woke up early, i couldn’t sleep in first place, got dressed up, but nothing too fancy, nothing to crapy, i didn’t want them to think i am a slacker, nor an uptight bitch. I put on some rings, then took three of them off, and kept only two. I decided not to show up as the emo\Goth guy, nobody wants to go to a gala to see an emo\Goth weaning about his life. and i didn’t go as the laid back guy as well, slackers aren’t most welcomed, and i had to show i am serious and up to the level. Anyway, i arrived early, the first person actually, but i asked to audition a bit late, i wanted to see the type of people that applied criteria of judging, and so on. I nibbled through my fingers while waiting, and watching people sing. And wow, some people were terrible, others were good. The room got empty shortly, and it was my turn. That’s what i wanted, performing for the judges and the judges only. I took the stage and the microphone. They started whispering. “You look young” one bolted, then more whispers and pencils squealing on papers. “What will you sing today” another hissed. “Heaven and hell, by black Sabbath” my voice was shaking, and fear was terribly evident. The music played, i sang. They stopped me “come closer to the microphone” and some mutters about not being used to stages and microphones were tossed. The music started again, i have practiced the song for a month
sing me a song you’re a singer
do me a wrong you’re a bringer of evil
the devil is never a maker
the less that you give, your taker
so it’s on and on and on, its heaven and hell
But i was too fast; i finished the verse before it was supposed to end.
-okay, stop, here’s your card, give it to the guys on the table outside”
-B? Wtf is a B
-it means you were shortlisted
-short what? Wtf is that?
I thought i fucked up badly.
I went outside, pupils dilated, sweating, shaking, breathing loudly. I took out my instant coffee pack, asked for hot water, drank coffee in a huge sip. “WTF IS A B” i growled quietly. “Don’t worry, most the people that auditioned didn’t make it this far” i still was convinced i messed up badly; i went to the other judges, for another performance. I was supposed to perform another song, but i ended performing heaven and hell one more time. This time, i did it better, and did some air guitar on here and there.
-you should have chosen something by deep purple” said one.
-i know, I had iron maiden and Judas priest in my chosen songs, but had to change them in the last moment, since no instrumental versions of the songs I practiced were found, and the new songs, I don’t think they are crowd friendly
-okay, place the microphone back and…
-when will the results be announced
One day, one week, and another and I stayed waiting for phone call, or email, or anything. But nothing was received. And I kept building higher hopes. The dream got bigger. And tension became unbearable. I finally decided to send an email inquiring about the results. Few days passed, and my inbox received good news, or I thought so. The email had bad news for me. It said that even though I made it to the second level, I didn’t have to the top ranks.
First, it’s struck me. Then it took a different perspective, after I heard my self-singing. It sounded ugly, really ugly, and I said to myself “if something this horrible made it to the second level, then a bit more practice might get me to higher levels”. So I kept dreaming and practicing.
Today, on the date of typing this, I recorded something. It sounded like a hamster being torture, or a cow being hit reputedly with a mace on its knee. I hated everything at that point. I wanted to give up. I gave up hours after.
But I had to know, if it’s me, or if it’s because I have no music literacy, or if hating my own voice was normal. I recorded myself speaking like I usually do. And heard it. And broke the recorder. I heard it, even the video; I looked like a goof just by the way I talked. But if that’s the case, then why did teachers always ask me to read cause “you have a nice voice”.
Some search over the internet, and I figured out that hating my own voice and body movements is something normal. Well, that somehow convinced me, it’s by people wearing lab coats, so it has to be true. Part of the dream was restored, but it got crack in it now, and once something gets cracked, it never goes back the way it was