Inspiration+at+Allstate+by+Emily+Anderson

Emily Anderson Mr. Bouton Composition 4/16/09 Inspiration at Allstate As I walked into the audition room, my heart was racing. It was my first year auditioning for the high school Allstate music festival and I was just praying that I did not forget how to play the violin in all my nervousness. I felt prepared, but who really knows what they’re looking for at these things. Since it was my first year, I was the rookie, forging into the unknown, while other returning players waiting in the practice room knew what to expect. As I took deep breaths to try to ease my nerves, I was reminded of my first experience with the violin. At the young age of five, I began this journey. I pleaded to my parents to let me play an instrument, any instrument. They saw a small violin on the shelf at the music store and decided that was what I would play. I laughed to myself at this memory of my childlike simplicity in decision making. It now seemed like a fluke, like I just picked up the violin for no real reason. Who knew that from the moment I placed my bow on the string in the Allstate audition room, my idea of playing the violin would change forever. Disciplined, focused, uptight: these are the words that I described violinists as before my Allstate experience. It’s all about technique and skill and to be the best is to play every note exactly as it is written. A mistake when playing the violin is unforgivable in high-level orchestras because violins often play the melody and the audience can hear if someone is out of tune. If an orchestra was a play, the violinists would be the lead actor and the rest of the orchestra would be the backstage crew; the other instruments in an orchestra lay the groundwork for the violinists to play on top. There is also an aspect of competition when playing the violin, as there are so many violinists in the world that a simple audition soon becomes a ranking among players of who’s better than who. These stereotypes became a reality when I first decided that I was going to audition for the Allstate orchestra. This audition consisted of three parts: performing a solo piece, playing about twelve three-octave scales, and sight-reading a piece that was unknown to us. I began practicing right away so that I would have plenty of time to make everything sound absolutely perfect. The discipline and focus that is commonly associated with being a violinist came into play for me because it is necessary to play the notes and rhythms accurately if one wants to do well in the audition. With many hours of practice and thought and worry put into this audition, I headed off on the Derryfield bus with about ten other students, each in nervous anticipation. Every student had to audition and wait for the judges to decide their fate without knowing how much they were hoping and wishing to do well enough to make the cut. When I arrived, I did not have much time to practice before I was whisked away to the room where I would audition. I came out of the room with a smile on my face, relieved that all my hard work had paid off and that it was over. Excitement welled up inside me when I awoke a few days later to a text message from my band teacher saying that I was accepted to Allstate! I couldn’t believe that I would be playing among all the best violinists in the state! Looking forward to sharing my excitement, I headed off to my weekly symphony orchestra practice, excited to find out who else would be sharing this experience. To me, being in this just orchestra seemed like a great feat in itself; it took me many years of playing in orchestras and moving up to finally be in the highest level symphony orchestra at the music school. This was the best of the best as far as I knew. When I arrived, rather than my fellow violinists conversing about school or music, all I could hear was them asking each other what their score was to see how they compared. It was this moment that I realized how unnecessarily competitive this was. Rather than thinking of how great it will be just to be there with so many other great players, they were making this “festival” into a competition about themselves where all they cared about was who did better than who. It seemed unproductive to care so much about being 0.2 points lower than someone else, when a single audition is no true measure of someone’s playing ability, because of nervousness and other factors. Annoying as it is, this competitiveness does not go away and must be accepted as a part of the musical world. Although competition is apparent when playing any musical instrument, this aspect is even more apparent in violinists because of the physical precision it takes to make a good sound; a slight twist of the wrist can make the bow go lopsided and make the sound scratchy. Unlike the clarinet or the trumpet, it takes an amazing amount of practice to perfect just the movement of playing alone, and violinists are always trying to show just how much time they spend. Auditioning brings out this underlying sense of competition because it is a clear ranking of how others view you comparatively to the rest of the group and people are always wanting to move up, even if the position they received is something to be proud of. For me, I was just honored to be a part of it and although I didn’t do the best of the people I knew, I was content with my score. However, I was not happy about the way people had changed the idea of this three-day music festival that was supposed to be enjoyable into something more stressful than fun. When the weekend of Allstate had arrived, I was nervous that the competitive nature of my fellow orchestra members would be the same in this orchestra. I arrived to a large room filled with musicians, practicing their music like their life depended on it to prepare for yet another round of auditions to determine where everyone would sit. Ridiculous as it is, violinists must often go through multiple auditions for the same concert. Although I missed the extra high C in The Cowboys Overture and ended up sitting in the back, it was an honor for me just to be there. Returning to the practice room was like walking into a circus; people were playing all different types of songs as loud as they could to try to show up the person sitting next to them. After continuing to practice for a few minutes, the conductor walked in. It was like a wave of calmness came over everyone as a director announced his name and Mr. Maiello walked to the front of the orchestra. He had such a presence about him and when he began to talk, we had to strain to hear because he was so soft-spoken. When we began to play, he transformed; he became bigger and louder and more emotional. The music brought out a different side of him that I had never seen in anyone. He loved every part of every song and took care of them like a mother takes care of a child. He was able to communicate this passion to us every day during rehearsal. I will never forget one quote he told us that I now think about every time I pick up my violin. “To play a wrong note is insignificant, to play without passion is inexcusable” - Ludwig van Beethoven. This had gone against everything that I thought playing the violin was--to play songs just to be able to play every note right and reach what I thought was the ultimate goal of technical perfection. When I threw these previous ideas out the window and stopped worrying about playing the song perfectly but rather playing it with passion, something magical happened. It felt like we, as a violin section, were on top of a cloud, drifting higher into the sky. My previous opinion of the symphony orchestra I participate in at home was completely reversed, as it now seemed incomparable to the level of the Allstate orchestra. It was amazing. I looked down at my violin in shock, for I could not believe the sound that had just come out. It was at that moment that the definition of being a violinist changed for me. It was no longer about how to place my fingers so that the sound from my instrument matches the black marks on a piece of paper; it was not about the competition of being the best. It was about the feeling it gave me to play like nothing mattered - to play for myself and not for the judges in the audition room. I will take this experience with me for the rest of my life.