A vocal jury is one of the most anti-climactic things to ever exist. Lots of things are anti-climactic for those of us who romanticize and idealize and plan and analyze analyze analyze, but juries are currently at the top of my list. As a student who is studying voice at a university with a prestigious music program, I have finally begun to understand the gravity of juries. For those of you who are not familiar with the term,
vo·cal ju·ry (voh-cul juh-ree)-- noun. A 5-7 minute session at the end of each semester when music students are given one chance to prove that they 1. have improved over the past 4 months 2. are better than all the other students of the given instrument and age group 3. possess some sort of personality/ personal interpretation of classical pieces which may or may not actually have meaning 4. are physically attractive 5. if female, can walk confidently in high heels 6. ... can sing well.
6 voice professors (all of whom possess both doctorates in voice and extensive successful performance careers) and 2 vocal coaches (with specialized language training) recline in the padded seats of a small performance hall, while grad students, waiting singers, friends, other random people sit directly outside the room and listen to each jury. By "listen to," I actually mean "judge and compare." Everyone wants to receive the highest mark; despite the fact that the juries claim to be "un-biased," we all know that they aren't. Each professor takes into account interactions he or she has had with the student, and even his or her relationship with the student's professor. Bill (my voice teacher) told me that after his own senior recital, a professor gave him an F simply because he didn't like Bill's teacher. Whaa...?
Anyway, hours and hours of practice and performance mean little to nothing during a jury. Every time I walk on stage, I forget most of what I've been drilling for the last hour. It just sort of flies away. Those 5 to 7 minutes are hinged mostly on muscle memory and luck. I always end up doing some strange thing that I've never done before, like an awkward hand motion or random breath in the middle of a word or flying spit across the stage.
After the first song (chosen by the student), one of the faculty members chooses a song from the remaining list (of 4 or so options). This year, they chose "Clair de Lune," the song Bill assured me they would not select. I was so thrown off that I sort of took my own tempo and made up a bunch of phrasings. Oops.
5 minutes later, you exit the stage and the next student walks in. All of those hours and rehearsals and score studies and acting lessons and coachings have ended. The next student has already begun to sing as you gather your wits and quell your adrenaline.
Basically, it's a huge smack to my ego, which I often need. It's good to be reminded that I am not the shiz.
vo·cal ju·ry (voh-cul juh-ree)-- noun. A 5-7 minute session at the end of each semester when music students are given one chance to prove that they 1. have improved over the past 4 months 2. are better than all the other students of the given instrument and age group 3. possess some sort of personality/ personal interpretation of classical pieces which may or may not actually have meaning 4. are physically attractive 5. if female, can walk confidently in high heels 6. ... can sing well.
6 voice professors (all of whom possess both doctorates in voice and extensive successful performance careers) and 2 vocal coaches (with specialized language training) recline in the padded seats of a small performance hall, while grad students, waiting singers, friends, other random people sit directly outside the room and listen to each jury. By "listen to," I actually mean "judge and compare." Everyone wants to receive the highest mark; despite the fact that the juries claim to be "un-biased," we all know that they aren't. Each professor takes into account interactions he or she has had with the student, and even his or her relationship with the student's professor. Bill (my voice teacher) told me that after his own senior recital, a professor gave him an F simply because he didn't like Bill's teacher. Whaa...?
Anyway, hours and hours of practice and performance mean little to nothing during a jury. Every time I walk on stage, I forget most of what I've been drilling for the last hour. It just sort of flies away. Those 5 to 7 minutes are hinged mostly on muscle memory and luck. I always end up doing some strange thing that I've never done before, like an awkward hand motion or random breath in the middle of a word or flying spit across the stage.
After the first song (chosen by the student), one of the faculty members chooses a song from the remaining list (of 4 or so options). This year, they chose "Clair de Lune," the song Bill assured me they would not select. I was so thrown off that I sort of took my own tempo and made up a bunch of phrasings. Oops.
5 minutes later, you exit the stage and the next student walks in. All of those hours and rehearsals and score studies and acting lessons and coachings have ended. The next student has already begun to sing as you gather your wits and quell your adrenaline.
Basically, it's a huge smack to my ego, which I often need. It's good to be reminded that I am not the shiz.
After reading your archive, you make me feel so much better. Girl, I just had a Jury couple days ago (not my first) and the same thing happened to me. Out of the 7 songs I prepared for them, I sang my choice. Out of the 6 left, they chose the one I least likely had under my belt. Oh it was awful... I felt like shit. SO I FeeL YOU, however, I still like to think I'm one of the best, LOL. It was a pleasure reading this. *jEe*
Quality post. I adore you. Juries are for stuffy people.
A jury should be made up of the singer's friends.
Organ juries were so bad