Tessa Vermeulen: Audition Candidate and Now Assistant Principal/2nd Flute

I began taking professional auditions in the last year of my undergraduate degree at Carnegie Mellon University. Prior to winning the ASO position, I had been attending the Juilliard School pursuing my master’s degree, and was taking as many auditions as I possibly could.

So, let’s say I’ve been invited to the audition and now it’s time to prepare…the meat of the whole experience. Auditions are composed of orchestral “excerpts.” These are short passages from relevant orchestral pieces that, when played beautifully, demonstrate your ability to perform specific technical and musical acrobatics on your instrument. For example, it’s crucial for the orchestra to hire someone who can play in time, go from a bombastic to a delicate sound on a whim, and always remain in tune (not letting the pitch go high or low). These are marvelous challenges! One excerpt that covers all the aforementioned points on the flute is Beethoven’s Overture to Leonore. This excerpt has become a close friend of mine, as it’s on nearly every flute list. You’ll likely also be asked for parts from solo pieces for your instrument. The one that frequents flute audition lists is Mozart’s Concerto in G Major or D Major. Both these works expose immediately if the player doesn’t have the fundamental technical skills or the musical spirit to convince the listener.

It’s worth mentioning that unlike a regular performance, in which you perform a whole piece start to finish with all the instruments, you are alone for auditions and playing many unrelated snippets, like a chain of movie scenes out-of-context. Imagine writing a book out of disjunct paragraphs; in one moment, a woman is standing on a tranquil beach, and in the next, there’s a car chase. The only way this story would succeed in translating to anything of meaning is if each mood is crafted and cared about individually. Then, the reader cannot help but be in awe of each specific feeling transmitted. This means that each excerpt must represent the character of the orchestral work as a whole, whether it is raw and jubilant like Bartok, or misty like Debussy.

This ideology is on the forefront of my mind as I begin the fundamental work on the audition list. Practicing involves dedicating several hours a day to the list, so your life revolves around it. On the first day of prep, I play through every excerpt and determine which ones I am the least familiar with. As you gain audition experience, and because there are several excerpts you can expect to encounter on every list, you won’t be starting at square one. But there will always be some oddballs or ones that are simply difficult to execute. I can expect to practice those daily until perhaps a week before the audition day. Then there are some I might only need to look at every other day, and ones that are in my back pocket already, so to speak. My goal is always to cover the entire list in depth in one week. After I categorize them all this way, I create “mock lists” for myself, and I record myself playing them back to back without stopping. I then listen back, take notes on what needs help, and then address those things before recording it again to see the improvement. This is tough, and sometimes feels like you’re listening to a playback of your speaking voice (can anyone be at ease when doing that)? However, it’s crucial to accept whatever art you have created that day, and find the personal touches in it that are authentic to you. Only then can you listen back like a loving parent to your creation instead of becoming a tyrant and scaring the spark away.

A few weeks before the audition, I schedule multiple “mock auditions” with my teachers and peers, because performing for an actual audience feels incredibly surreal. Things will come out of your instrument, both miraculous and horrifying when in the presence of thoughtful listeners. You need to learn your reactions to excitement in order to channel them for the real event. In one mock audition for the Alabama Symphony, I got a group of 5 musician friends to listen to my whole list and give me feedback afterward. What they didn’t tell me is that they had hidden intentions….to try to make me laugh while I was playing. This could be categorized as “adversity training” with a fun spin. As I lifted my flute to play Claude Debussy’s Afternoon of a Faun, the most graceful and soft flute solo, they acted ridiculously to force me to focus. They really didn’t hold back. They played loud music on their phones, talked in weird voices to one another while I played, or got up and slammed doors. I fared pretty well regardless of their antics, so I felt prepared. And guess what? There were no such antics from the actual ASO panel! Thank goodness.

The final stage: the audition. About a week before, I make sure to return to a more “normal” practice routine to remain fresh and energized. I review excerpts regularly, but remind myself not to reinvent the wheel at this late stage. The big day itself is about best presenting the ideas you’ve already formed. As my undergraduate flute teacher once told me, “you’ve made your painting, now it’s time to frame it behind glass and hang it on the wall.” An audition is a rare opportunity for expression because you’re guaranteed the attention of the finest musicians and can share with them a piece of who you are. Auditioning became an integral part of my life and has revealed to me the most beautiful aspects of performing. I couldn’t have been happier to succeed in the ASO audition and be afforded the chance to play with such talented musicians.