When I got the call to come in and audition for a regional production of Cabaret, I wanted the job so bad I could taste it.
All of the Kit Kat Girls would also be the band, and that was right up my alley. So I found my old leotard, grabbed my guitar, and headed to 520 8th Avenue for an audition.
When I arrived there was a group of about 10 women of various sizes, wearing out-of-date leotards, cheap character shoes, and clutching their instrument cases. They looked scared to death. Across the small hallway were 20 women who were seriously fit, not carrying instruments, sporting sexy leotards and LaDucas. After I assessed the situation, I quickly clutched my guitar case as well.
We were told that it was an actor/musician movement audition; but the producers had changed their minds. They invited 20 non-musician dancers, who could kick their faces, to audition with us.
This is my idea of hell.
When we learned the combination and they split us into small groups, it went from bad to worse. Awkward musician girls attempting sexy moves while fumbling through the difficult choreography, next to polished dancers. Each one of us looked terrified while the real dancers smiled with confidence.
We performed the combination twice, and the second time was just as bad as the first. I remember one of the moves brought us down to the floor, and we had to stand up without using our hands. I failed that move both times.
After the dance audition, they told all of us musician/actors that we could leave. There would be no further instrument or singing audition for us.
We were all so excited to share our real skills, and instead we looked like a bunch of fools. Silently we walked together toward the elevators, defeated, carrying our instrument cases.
Two weeks later, as I was leaving for a 4 month gig, I received an email asking me to come for callbacks. “You’re joking!” I thought. I had to decline because of another commitment, but to this day I wish I would have been available. I really want to know how all of it ended.