I got there right on time at 6:30 and was ushered to a frigid room where the other hopeful cast members-to-be talked among themselves about the shows they had done together, how so few female roles are in Joseph, and how cold the room is.

7:00 passed.  So did 8:00.  I waited patiently, knowing that I was number 33 on the list.  Jesus’ age — lucky, right?  Except for the crucifixion thing, I guess.  Rotten luck, that.

Finally the other 4 in my group and I were called to the gym for the singing audition.  The gym was even colder.  I was the third to perform.  I watched as two women each sang their tunes to 4 people.  Without sheet music.  Check.  With some acting.  Check.  Apparently that’s how these things are done.

No problem, I thought.  I’ve sung this a hundred times in my car.  I know this tune.  I walked over to the pianist and pointed out the 32 bars I had chosen.  I walked to the free throw line and faced the table.

“Find…”

“Sorry, can I start that again?”  (that was in key, but the wrong note)  Hmm, starting at the second verse is proving tougher than I thought.  I jumped back over to the piano.  He gave me the cue note, and I hurried back to the hotseat.  Floor.  Whatever.

“Find glory in a song that rings true, truth like a blazing fire.  An eternal flame.”
“Find one song, a song about love…”

“…”

Ok, no big deal.  I’ll just jump back in.  Hearing piano accompaniment instead of guitar is proving to be more distracting than I had anticipated.

“a young man.  Find one song before the virus takes hold.  Glory before the sun sets.”

Ok, those are the wrong words.  By this time I was doing my absolute finest deer-in-headlights look.  Something tells me that’s not the way Roger is blocked in that show.

“One song to redeem this empty life…”

He stopped me.  I didn’t even get to do the money line.  The high note, the grit, the passion.  Denied.

Instead, he asked me to grab a score for Joseph and quickly learn the first few lines of One More Angel In Heaven.  This request came amid a flourish of apologies.  I noticed that no one else in my group was asked to sight read, something I do with the skill of a drunken ape.

I made it through, but there it was, written right in the score…”BROTHERS.”  By this point I figured my destiny was assured.  Brother.  One of 11.  Otherwise known as a chorus.

And why not?  I choked.  I would have been better off singing the climax of Close Every Door, although I thought that might have seemed a bit pretentious.  The truth of the matter is that I wasn’t prepared to sing anything from memory.  Actually, I could have used C’est Moi.  But Lancelot is a baritone.  Joseph is a tenor.  I’m trying to capitalize on the new notes I’ve found in my range over the last year or so.  I was totally going to do the Donny Osmond thing.  Uh huh.  What was I thinking?

I could have prepared a bit more carefully, but I was trying to go into it with a relatively carefree attitude.  It would have been nice if I had been honest with myself about what I was hoping for.  I felt something after that performance, for sure, but it definitely wasn’t carefree.

Callbacks are tomorrow.  Everyone will hear about the casting, yea or nay, by the end of the week.  I really wish I would have represented myself better.  I needed my A game.  I pinched off a C-.

And now I’m starving.  Maybe I can at least find some comfort in the pieces of Mediterranean Cylinder Beast that will be playing the lead role in My Big Fat Greek Sandwich.  That is, if I can hack my way through all this self pity to reach the door of my apartment.