Need to tell an epic story from your wind-playing days? Post'em here!
I'll go ahead and start.
In high school, I was the best low brass musician in the school. Maybe not the most popular, but I knew the music well and helped out other sections blend better together. My teachers were excited to see so many of us (including myself) get involved with the music at a higher level.
Then I went off to college.
For four years, people often wondered what business I had being in the top band. I was ridiculed behind my back for my "lack of ability" and "how other people deserved my spot". Naturally, when I found out about this, I was upset. However, I never really let it get to me. Put simply, it was just petty BS that I didn't want to bother with.
Still...you can only ignore that for so long before it gets taxing.
So senior year rolls around, and I hear the same old crap as always, though now its a bit more vocal. Only this time, I was preparing to blow plenty of people out of the water.
Before I go on, I should mention that starting the summer of my sophmore year of college, I began studying Vladimir Cosma's Euphonium Concerto, and decided that I would play the Third Movement, which is arguably the most difficult piece of solo euphonium repertoire out there. I talked to my professor about it, and while hesitant he let me practice and play the piece. If you haven't heard it, go have a listen (
Here).
So, armed with that piece, I decided I would audition for the senior soloist position on my band's tour (we had one every year). This was met with, of course, much scoffing, and plenty of people informing me that it would be open auditions and that they would leave after two minutes of my playing. I told them that its on them if they want to leave, but they'd be missing out on great music.
The day rolls around and I'm set. Not 100% confident that I would get the spot, but 100% confident that I'd get the response that I wanted.
Roughly an hour before I was supposed to go on, I met with my accompanist just to fine tune a few things here and there. I mentioned that maybe for some flare, we speed up near the end (starting at about 6:06 on the recording), and progressively get faster and faster. She wasn't sure if that would go over well, but she wanted a challenge as well. So we're in agreement, and my plans came in for sure.
So I go out and tune. I look out and see my entire ensemble sitting there (was optional, but highly encouraged) as well as the band director, the low brass professor, and the orchestra conductor, as well as a few professors who came to watch. Those first few seconds where I wasn't playing I was incredibly nervous...
...Then I hit that first note...
...And no one left their seats...ever. Even the people who said they would stayed put.
It was incredible; passages I normally didn't get I was hitting with incredible accuracy, notes were as clear as ever, and I was breathing at healthy and appropriate places. So it gets to be around that time to speed up, and everyone is already leaning in their seats (at least from what I could see), and I was able to execute it flawlessly...well, a few choppy parts here and there, but otherwise decent enough. And on that day, I finally hit that high D at the end that drove me insane.
It was silent for a good 5 seconds...then all the applause...good lord there was so much.
Long story short, I didn't end up getting the soloist position. I was bummed, but it didn't bother me. I went there to make a statement, that I earned my spot because I'm that good.
So if there's a moral to this long essay, its that you should never let anyone tell you you're not good enough to be in a great ensemble. You're there for a reason; because you're an incredible player and you offer something to the group that no one else can. You don't even have to do what I did to make it known just why you got in; just know that you belong and that anyone that says otherwise is simply shallow.
...
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So yeah...now its your guys' turn.
sweatdrop 
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