When I moved to Nashville, my theatrical friends told me that the quality of the vocal competition would increase significantly—not that being able to tear up a song ever got me a part in Memphis, but in a city where the music industry is actually an industry, there’s a sizable contingent of folks who dream of becoming the next Carrie Underwood or Ke$ha or Garth Brooks. It’s telling that a few weeks ago the local Groupon was for vocal coaching sessions with somebody who’d worked with somebody famous.
Last night I went to auditions for Jekyll & Hyde, a play better known for its stunt casting (Sebastian Bach, David Hasselhoff) and hairpieces than for its musical or emotional heft (although it was composed by Leslie Bricusse, who boasts a number or certifiably awesome songs). There I discovered that my friends were right. Every single person at the audition, without exception, had impressive singing ability—although some of them were clearly used to singing more in front of a microphone than in an auditorium, and some of them broke the first rule of auditioning: Don’t sing anything from Les Miserables.
Fortunately, I’d picked an easy song, the dance audition was within my capablities (for once—they usually make dance auditions harder than anything in the actual show), my glands decided to squirt a good dose of adrenaline into my system for the final sing-off (having fight-or-flight endorphines in your system is remarkably useful when you’re auditioning for a role of a guy who gets hopped up on brane drugs and changes into a monster), and I go back Tuesday for callbacks
