The Conductor and the Audition of Shame
All I ever wanted was to have the Conductor invite me to play in his orchestra. He never did.
All I ever wanted was to have the Conductor invite me to play in his orchestra. He never did.
The Conductor exposed me to the demands and requirements of joining his musicians at an early age. I would listen to the different instruments that he directed and controlled and thought that if I could pick an instrument that he did not have in his group, then my chances of being invited to join were greater.
As a youngster, I considered several instruments. I wanted to pick the right one to master as I was determined to surprise the Conductor with my ingenuity and competency. The first instrument I gravitated to was the harmonica, and after much contemplation, I toiled endlessly to produce the best sound and tone.
I was nervous about auditioning for the Conductor so in between the hours I set aside for practice, I would listen to the musicians outside the concert hall to learn what I could from this elite group. Watching from the wings, I saw that the Conductor’s face was intense and his musicians had a stilted posture that was limiting. I also knew that I did not have the expertise that the Conductor had and therefore, I shouldn’t question this observation.
The day came when I felt I had the courage and confidence to audition for the Conductor. My heart pounded, my skin broke out in a sweat, and my hands shook when I discovered that the Conductor required that auditions take place with all the members of his orchestra present. Somehow, I lifted the harmonica to my lips and beautifully played the beginning notes of the piece I had prepared for this occasion.
After playing only six measures, the Conductor yelled out, “That’s enough! What were you thinking when you chose this instrument? The music you’re playing will never be suitable for my orchestra! Come back when you can play something different and with competency.”
Leaving the Conductor’s presence in shame, I wept. I thought I had chosen my instrument wisely and that I produced music worthy of his orchestra. I know better now.
Even after this horrible experience, my desire to join the Conductor’s symphony still churned in my soul. I decided that I needed to observe and emulate the current members. I crept as close as I could so I could scrutinize their performance. The music the members produced was pleasant, but I still questioned the lack of range that all of them possessed.
As I leaned forward to understand this limitation, the Conductor noticed me and announced, “Look everyone! Here’s the girl who thought that playing a harmonica was a good idea. Isn’t that funny?” After a slight pause, all the members of the orchestra laughed along with him. In humiliation, I retreated quickly.
After much contemplation, I eliminated other instruments one by one as a substitute for the one that I had chosen and come to love. In time, I resolved to master the art of harmonica playing. As the months passed, I developed my unique style and the notes and sound that I produced made me proud of the musician I was becoming.
I thought, “Now the Conductor will have to invite me to join his orchestra because I have worked so hard.”
I picked up my harmonica and made my way to the Conductor’s concert hall and, this time I played just outside of the door when there was a lull in the music his symphony was playing. I chose a piece that had a wide range of notes, and one that communicated deep emotion. With joy and anxiety mixed within, I played. The music poured out of my harmonica, and when I finished the piece, happiness burst from within, knowing I had represented my talent well.
I looked over at the Conductor, and his orchestra and everyone was silent. The individuals and their instruments seemed frozen as they stared at me. They had never heard music with such a wide range and emotion.
The Conductor stepped off his platform and rushed my way. I held my harmonica in my hand and beamed at him. I knew that I had excelled in my music and I expected the warm invitation he would offer me, allowing membership in his orchestra.
The Conductor towered over me and fury spewed out of his mouth. “That is not how a professional should play music. I have a strict repertoire for my musicians, and you are not interested in conforming to my musical requirements. I am embarrassed that my orchestra had to listen to your performance. Your style and range are extreme, meant only to draw attention to yourself rather than me and my orchestra. I will never invite you to take part in this symphony as long as you refuse to conform to my musical requirements!”
I took my harmonica, placed it in its box and resolved not to play it again.
At that moment, the joy I had felt playing my instrument dimmed and anguish moved into my soul. I took my harmonica, placed it in its box and resolved not to play it again.
I moved through time in a cloud of sorrow. Despite this, I could not avoid the hall where the Conductor continued directing his orchestra causing the music they produced to echo within me. As I absorbed the notes the symphony played, their stilted movements and range exasperated me because I knew what joy could result without these limitations.
In time, the anguish in my soul subsided. I pondered the musical restrictions I heard from these musicians and speculated over why the Conductor inhibited the talent of his symphony.
This realization frustrated me, and the desire to play music with unlimited fervor dominated my being. I took out the box and lifted out my harmonica. I played it in my style and range. All the joy that my music produced returned and I resolved to continue to play even if I never was invited to join the Conductor’s orchestra.
The years passed and I mastered the art of harmonica playing. It no longer bothered me that my genre of music did not qualify for the Conductor’s orchestra; I was content with my scope and technique. It delighted me that my music also brought happiness to those around me. Shame no longer grew within my soul; I played every song my spirit could produce.
One day, I was near the hall where the Conductor worked with his orchestra. I thought it would interest me to observe him and listen to the music he was creating without feeling like I had to conform. As his orchestra’s music found my ears, I wondered again what the Conductor’s motivation was for limiting their range of notes.
Something caught my eye, and I shook as I understood, after all these years, the horrid reason the Conductor’s musicians played with such limitations. I gaped in astonishment when I saw, for the first time, that each member of the Conductor’s orchestra wore chains that assured complete conformation to his style and tastes. In horror and relief, I realized, at that moment, that it was good that my father, the Conductor, never invited me to join his orchestra. I was free!
👏 Enjoyed this piece? I’d really appreciate your applause!
👇 Leave a comment below with your thoughts
