This year's tax return was quite a shock, for a number of reasons. The first (and most important) being that, for the first time since I was a teenager, I owed money. Not just "money," but a substantial amount of money.
So I decided, after consulting with a few "entertainment biz" colleagues, to see if an "accountant" could improve my numbers at all.
I assembled all of my 2010 receipts...laboriously went through my checking account statement...and printed out about 100 pages worth of tax document information from the current and previous year. I was planning on writing off as much as I legally could.
I brought it to the accountant...who was a very unconventional, borderline slovenly older gentleman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He spent about 10 minutes looking at my assembled tax documents:
"I see that you put all of your deductions on your Schedule C."
"Yep." I guess that's the name of the document the HR Block software used.
"Makes sense. That's the only was you're going to get any money back."
He continued flipping through my documents, looking a little nervous. "So, Tyler, are you familiar with the hobby loss rule?"
"Um...no."
"Basically, it's an IRS law that says if you lose money on your business in three of five years, it's considered a hobby, not a job."
"Oh."
Awesome. So this meant I probably wasn't going to do much better on my tax return (shortly after the hobby loss discussion, he said, "I'm going to be brutally honest with you; I can't help you. I'm not going to take your money, but I suggest you just eat the cost.").
But not only that, it also meant that I'm not sure I can call myself a professional actor any more; technically. I mean, I'll still do it...because it sounds cool. but according to the IRS, I currently have a very expensive "acting hobby."
Don't worry -- you haven't stumbled upon a "Woe is me!!! I'm not famooose yet!" blog entry that every actor with a blog posts a minimum of once a year.
On the contrary...I've never wanted, nor expected fame and fortune. I mean, my goal from the moment I moved to Los Angeles was to be a "working actor." It hasn't happened yet, but that's why it's a "goal," not an "expectation." If it never happens...then so be it. I tried, like hundreds of thousands that have come before me, and I didn't quite get there. It's totally fine, and I'm prepared for it.
But ideally, of course, I'd like to be a working actor. I'm trying, sure, but I definitely could be doing more. I think that's one of the great fallacies that actors buy into -- the "I've worked my ass off, and I have nothing to show for it" whine. Not everyone works their ass off as much as they should/could/say they do. It's a lie that actors tell themselves to excuse their lack of success. Most "actors" have day jobs that consume too much of their time...or they watch television...or play video games...or take on a non-acting hobby of some kind...and time gets wasted.
Then again, only crazy people are actually thinking about how to improve their acting careers every waking hour...and crazy people are generally pretty terrible actors (in spite of what you may have heard).
Another lie actors tell themselves is: "It's just a matter of time" (I tell this lie to myself all the time, in an effort to stay positive). I mean...that's true for some people, but for a lot of people it's just another excuse for the inevitable depressing career examination. For most folks, no matter how hard they try, no matter how much effort the into it, and no matter how long they try, they're probably not going to reach the level of success they desire/deserve.
Success is a funny thing. I've been around quite a bit of success...which is what prompted this blog entry, I suppose. I've worked with two Tony winners (one also has a Pulitzer, the other owns a Peabody), an American Idol Runner-Up, six actors that are currently (or will soon be) appearing on Broadway, and countless others with Broadway credits, legitimate film and television credits, and popular voice-over credits (including the voice of Portal's GlaDOS).
If you couldn't tell, I love name dropping.
The point is (is there a point?) I've seen success happen. For the most part, when I knew these people they weren't successful working actors; they were struggling local actors who became successful through hard work, talent, perseverance, and good fortune.
And of course, success was richly deserved by each person.
Now, if I were the jealous type, I'd be pretty disheartened by all of this. "Why not me???" an annoying person might moan. But I'm not that guy (for the most part). I'm proud of all of them, and honored to have known them before they hit it big. I consider them friends, and I think they'd consider me likewise.
But what about my "career?" Personally, I don't think my time has passed, to be delusionally frank (it's just a matter of time!!!), and I don't think I'll ever give up on it. When I look back at my silly little life, even if I don't ultimately become a success in the entertainment industry, I can always be proud of the fact that I moved to Los Angeles, tried to achieve all of my dreams, and came pretty damn close.
So I'll keep trying...because nothing's stopping me, really. There will be some months where I'm working very hard, and doing a lot. There will be other months where I'm just sorta' sitting on my ass, doing nothing. But I don't see myself ever really stopping. If it's a job, or just a hobby, I don't think I'll ever stop acting.
And if success happens; cool. If not...well damn; at least I tried.
Showing posts with label auditioning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label auditioning. Show all posts
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Coming to Los Angeles Part 2: Preparing to Prepare
Didn't scare you off, did I? Good. I didn't think I would. That's what I like about you -- your determination. Your drive. Hell, you've got spunk, kid...and I think you're really going to make it.
Because I hear you. You've made up your mind. You're going to roll the dice. Awesome. Follow your dreams. Carpe your diem. You won't know if you don't try. Fortune favors the brave. Veni vidi vici. Git 'er done. Only you can prevent forest fires. FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!!!!!
So get your ass over here. How? It's easy. Start heading west. When you hit an ocean, turn left and follow the coast. Before you know it, BOOM! You're in Los Angeles (note -- Hawaii and southern Florida...I'm sorry, it's impossible to get to California from your state. Sorry!).
But before you take that drastic step, let's talk about what you need to do before you leave. Because, believe it or not, some things are much cheaper and easier where you live than they are in Los Angeles, and I really want you to get your crap together before you move.
The first and most important thing you'll probably need is money. Unless you want to start working as soon as you arrive in Los Angeles (and where's the fun in that?), you'll probably want a nice little chunk of "starter cash."
How much? Well, let's break it down.
The first, and biggest chunk of your budget will probably go to rent. Now, I think the best thing to do is move down in a group, for a two reasons.
1) It's cheaper.
B) You've got a built-in support group.
My wife and I moved down with another couple, found a lovely little apartment in Silver Lake, and spent about $600 per month in rent. That was with 4 people, living in a nice two-bedroom apartment (with one bathroom). Another friend of mine found an apartment in a not-as-nice-but-still-fairly-good neighborhood in Glendale with a single roommate, and he spent about $800 a month. Another couple friend of ours found a one bedroom apartment in a not-very-good neighborhood in southern Glendale, and paid about $600 a month in rent.
So, depending on the amenities you need (laundry room, swimming pool, kitchen, refrigerator, running water), plan on spending anywhere from $500 up to $1000 per person for your basic Los Angeles "I'm-an-actor-so-I-live-in-squalor" apartment. You'll also need to plunk down money for a security deposit -- the standard rate is somewhere between one month's rent, up to double that. It's even more if you want to bring your puppy or kitty along for the ride (which I highly recommend -- you'll need all the support you can get).
For utilities, tack on anywhere from $100 to $300 (depending on whether you want internet, TV, land line, etc), $125 for gas (you'll be driving a lot), $300 for food, $20 for website subscriptions (we'll go over those later), and any other silly expenses you brought with you from home (credit cards, auto insurance, cell phones). After all is said and done, plan on spending anywhere from $1,000 to $3,000 per month to live in Los Angeles...again, all depending on how cheap you want to do it.
Not to mention you'll probably need new head shots (those black and white ones that your roommate took last year will not cut it...I don't care how talented he/she is, or how much positive feedback you got. You're going to need new ones), some acting classes, some irritating "enrollment fees" (I'll go over all of those later), and other unexpected expenses (I guarantee your car will break down in the first couple of months -- it's inevitable).
Now, ideally, you'd want to "not have a job" for at least the first six months after you finish your move. We'll go over why I recommend that later, but let's just say, to be safe, you save up about $10,000 to $20,000 for your move down, to comfortably weather the six month "adjustment period."
What that? You don't have that much money? Then you suck. Seriously, you suck. You'll never make it in this town. Might as well not even move if you don't have that much money laying around. Acting is only for the insanely wealthy, and if you're not insanely wealthy, you will fail. I promise.
Kidding. There are other, relatively easy ways of making a little bit of money that don't involve a full-time job (catering, background work, prostitution) that can supplement that initial investment without seriously cramping your availability for actual legitimate acting stuff...so not to fear. If you want to seriously rough it, you can probably make your move work for about $2,000 or so, but I wouldn't go much lower than that because you'd be making it very hard on yourself (hee hee). Los Angeles has enough lovely homeless folks roaming about the freeway off-ramps...we don't need any more.
But enough talk about money. We didn't become actors "for the money," did we? This is about ART dammit! Craft! Passion! We want to move people, make them weep, change the world through our elaborate game of "professional make-believe." Tell us what else we need to prepare!
Couple of things. First, if you can, try to get your SAG Eligibility (that stands for "Screen Actor's Guild", and it's an actor's union...in case you didn't know). Don't know what SAG Eligibility is? Don't worry...we can take care of that when you move down. But whatever you do:
DO NOT JOIN SAG
Did I get your attention? Did you see the big pretty red letter? No? Then I'll reiterate: do not join SAG. I'll explain why later, but basically, you'll be massively hampering your ability to get gigs when you move here, and since you're inexperienced, you're unlikely to book the sweet "union" jobs anyway. By all means, become "Eligible" to join SAG, but do not pay that $2,000+ enrollment until you absolutely have to.
Another thing to do before you leave is: learn how to act. I know, seems like a no-brainer...but it's honestly not as important as people might think, which is why I moved it down the list. Personally, I spent my whole first year in Los Angeles trying to get my head around the concept of "not acting." This was after having spent the previous 2 years as an honest-to-God professional stage actor in Seattle.
"Pish," you say. "Acting is acting is acting." Good. I said the same thing. But do me a favor. Take a single "reaction" that you gave on stage (the bigger the house, the better)...maybe something you did that got a laugh every night...or moved audience members to tears. Now, take that same reaction and film it -- you don't even have to do it in a super close-up. Just a normal, medium shot. Then watch it back. You see? You didn't do it, did you? Well...you've been warned.
If any of your "acting reactions" are the least bit presentational, they will look incredibly forced on camera, and you'll be exposed as the novice you are. If you "project" with your voice, you'll blow out the audio and it'll sound terrible. Anything you do that would get a laugh from someone 50 feet away will look horribly fake when put on film.
But that's not to say "You're fine. You don't need to know how to act. Just wing it." Because you really ought to know something about acting before you go. If you can, find a local, reputable acting school and take a few classes (but be fully prepared to dismiss a good portion of the instruction you receive, since not all acting teachers are actually good at their job).
As for what classes to take...if you know the difference between Stanislavski and Strasburg, then I'd recommend taking some specialized "film acting" classes. If you don't know the difference between Meisner and Method Acting, then you should take some regular old "acting classes."
Of course, you don't have to go crazy -- like I say, learning to act is not totally essential before you go, because there are lots of classes here, and some of the classes in your home town might be terrible, as well as a waste of time and money. But it helps to have an understanding of the basics so you're not totally clueless when you get here.
I mean, you wouldn't be the first person to watch someone on TV and think "Eh, that's not so hard. I could do that." There 7 billion people on earth who think the same thing; and they're not wrong. Thinking "I could do that" is not a revelation, so please don't ever say it. "Doing that" is not the hard part; "booking that" is the hard part. Anyone could deliver a single line in a movie convincingly, given enough coaching and takes, but very few people could go out and actually book that bastard based on their acting merits alone.
But I don't want to go into that too much now -- I'll cover "what classes to take" and "what to do when you book something" later on. You can worry about that when you get here.
Other preparations? I don't know...you'll probably want a car (public transportation is doable, but it's still really crappy compared to every other big city in the US). Think about where you want to live (that'll be the subject of my next blog), and who you want to live with.
And finally, just think about it. You sure you want to do this? I mean, you're probably not going to be successful, and even if you are, it'll probably take years of you earning no money, and just sitting on your ass waiting for the phone to ring (and it won't).
So, I'll ask again, are absolutely you're sure you want to do this?
Yes?
Okay. Good. You passed the test. I said it before, and I meant it; I like you, kid. You've definitely got "it." Now, get down here, and parlay that "it" into massive fame and fortune, you lucky little bastard. Damn straight -- this is you, buddy:
Because I hear you. You've made up your mind. You're going to roll the dice. Awesome. Follow your dreams. Carpe your diem. You won't know if you don't try. Fortune favors the brave. Veni vidi vici. Git 'er done. Only you can prevent forest fires. FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!!!!!
So get your ass over here. How? It's easy. Start heading west. When you hit an ocean, turn left and follow the coast. Before you know it, BOOM! You're in Los Angeles (note -- Hawaii and southern Florida...I'm sorry, it's impossible to get to California from your state. Sorry!).
But before you take that drastic step, let's talk about what you need to do before you leave. Because, believe it or not, some things are much cheaper and easier where you live than they are in Los Angeles, and I really want you to get your crap together before you move.
The first and most important thing you'll probably need is money. Unless you want to start working as soon as you arrive in Los Angeles (and where's the fun in that?), you'll probably want a nice little chunk of "starter cash."
How much? Well, let's break it down.
The first, and biggest chunk of your budget will probably go to rent. Now, I think the best thing to do is move down in a group, for a two reasons.
1) It's cheaper.
B) You've got a built-in support group.
My wife and I moved down with another couple, found a lovely little apartment in Silver Lake, and spent about $600 per month in rent. That was with 4 people, living in a nice two-bedroom apartment (with one bathroom). Another friend of mine found an apartment in a not-as-nice-but-still-fairly-good neighborhood in Glendale with a single roommate, and he spent about $800 a month. Another couple friend of ours found a one bedroom apartment in a not-very-good neighborhood in southern Glendale, and paid about $600 a month in rent.
So, depending on the amenities you need (laundry room, swimming pool, kitchen, refrigerator, running water), plan on spending anywhere from $500 up to $1000 per person for your basic Los Angeles "I'm-an-actor-so-I-live-in-squalor" apartment. You'll also need to plunk down money for a security deposit -- the standard rate is somewhere between one month's rent, up to double that. It's even more if you want to bring your puppy or kitty along for the ride (which I highly recommend -- you'll need all the support you can get).
For utilities, tack on anywhere from $100 to $300 (depending on whether you want internet, TV, land line, etc), $125 for gas (you'll be driving a lot), $300 for food, $20 for website subscriptions (we'll go over those later), and any other silly expenses you brought with you from home (credit cards, auto insurance, cell phones). After all is said and done, plan on spending anywhere from $1,000 to $3,000 per month to live in Los Angeles...again, all depending on how cheap you want to do it.
Not to mention you'll probably need new head shots (those black and white ones that your roommate took last year will not cut it...I don't care how talented he/she is, or how much positive feedback you got. You're going to need new ones), some acting classes, some irritating "enrollment fees" (I'll go over all of those later), and other unexpected expenses (I guarantee your car will break down in the first couple of months -- it's inevitable).
Now, ideally, you'd want to "not have a job" for at least the first six months after you finish your move. We'll go over why I recommend that later, but let's just say, to be safe, you save up about $10,000 to $20,000 for your move down, to comfortably weather the six month "adjustment period."
What that? You don't have that much money? Then you suck. Seriously, you suck. You'll never make it in this town. Might as well not even move if you don't have that much money laying around. Acting is only for the insanely wealthy, and if you're not insanely wealthy, you will fail. I promise.
Kidding. There are other, relatively easy ways of making a little bit of money that don't involve a full-time job (catering, background work, prostitution) that can supplement that initial investment without seriously cramping your availability for actual legitimate acting stuff...so not to fear. If you want to seriously rough it, you can probably make your move work for about $2,000 or so, but I wouldn't go much lower than that because you'd be making it very hard on yourself (hee hee). Los Angeles has enough lovely homeless folks roaming about the freeway off-ramps...we don't need any more.
But enough talk about money. We didn't become actors "for the money," did we? This is about ART dammit! Craft! Passion! We want to move people, make them weep, change the world through our elaborate game of "professional make-believe." Tell us what else we need to prepare!
Couple of things. First, if you can, try to get your SAG Eligibility (that stands for "Screen Actor's Guild", and it's an actor's union...in case you didn't know). Don't know what SAG Eligibility is? Don't worry...we can take care of that when you move down. But whatever you do:
DO NOT JOIN SAG
Did I get your attention? Did you see the big pretty red letter? No? Then I'll reiterate: do not join SAG. I'll explain why later, but basically, you'll be massively hampering your ability to get gigs when you move here, and since you're inexperienced, you're unlikely to book the sweet "union" jobs anyway. By all means, become "Eligible" to join SAG, but do not pay that $2,000+ enrollment until you absolutely have to.
Another thing to do before you leave is: learn how to act. I know, seems like a no-brainer...but it's honestly not as important as people might think, which is why I moved it down the list. Personally, I spent my whole first year in Los Angeles trying to get my head around the concept of "not acting." This was after having spent the previous 2 years as an honest-to-God professional stage actor in Seattle.
"Pish," you say. "Acting is acting is acting." Good. I said the same thing. But do me a favor. Take a single "reaction" that you gave on stage (the bigger the house, the better)...maybe something you did that got a laugh every night...or moved audience members to tears. Now, take that same reaction and film it -- you don't even have to do it in a super close-up. Just a normal, medium shot. Then watch it back. You see? You didn't do it, did you? Well...you've been warned.
If any of your "acting reactions" are the least bit presentational, they will look incredibly forced on camera, and you'll be exposed as the novice you are. If you "project" with your voice, you'll blow out the audio and it'll sound terrible. Anything you do that would get a laugh from someone 50 feet away will look horribly fake when put on film.
But that's not to say "You're fine. You don't need to know how to act. Just wing it." Because you really ought to know something about acting before you go. If you can, find a local, reputable acting school and take a few classes (but be fully prepared to dismiss a good portion of the instruction you receive, since not all acting teachers are actually good at their job).
As for what classes to take...if you know the difference between Stanislavski and Strasburg, then I'd recommend taking some specialized "film acting" classes. If you don't know the difference between Meisner and Method Acting, then you should take some regular old "acting classes."
Of course, you don't have to go crazy -- like I say, learning to act is not totally essential before you go, because there are lots of classes here, and some of the classes in your home town might be terrible, as well as a waste of time and money. But it helps to have an understanding of the basics so you're not totally clueless when you get here.
I mean, you wouldn't be the first person to watch someone on TV and think "Eh, that's not so hard. I could do that." There 7 billion people on earth who think the same thing; and they're not wrong. Thinking "I could do that" is not a revelation, so please don't ever say it. "Doing that" is not the hard part; "booking that" is the hard part. Anyone could deliver a single line in a movie convincingly, given enough coaching and takes, but very few people could go out and actually book that bastard based on their acting merits alone.
But I don't want to go into that too much now -- I'll cover "what classes to take" and "what to do when you book something" later on. You can worry about that when you get here.
Other preparations? I don't know...you'll probably want a car (public transportation is doable, but it's still really crappy compared to every other big city in the US). Think about where you want to live (that'll be the subject of my next blog), and who you want to live with.
And finally, just think about it. You sure you want to do this? I mean, you're probably not going to be successful, and even if you are, it'll probably take years of you earning no money, and just sitting on your ass waiting for the phone to ring (and it won't).
So, I'll ask again, are absolutely you're sure you want to do this?
Yes?
Okay. Good. You passed the test. I said it before, and I meant it; I like you, kid. You've definitely got "it." Now, get down here, and parlay that "it" into massive fame and fortune, you lucky little bastard. Damn straight -- this is you, buddy:
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Time I was Almost on a Game Show: Part 1
When I moved to L.A., I had a fool-proof plan.
I was going to audition for "every game show" out there. And I was going to get on those game shows, because I think I'm smart (I'm not), and people generally like me (they don't). If I could just get on one...one tiny little show, I'd be set (to the tune of, at least, several thousand dollars).
It was foolproof.
And I got close a couple of times. I auditioned for "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader." Apparently, I'm not (fifth graders know that "yellow" plus "red" equals "orange," not "purple").
I also tried out for the show "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Apparently, my audition was pretty damn forgettable (they made fun of me for wanting to give most of my money away to my family...jerks).
However, eventually I did appear on a game show.
Well, kinda'.
I'll explain.
A little over a year ago I saw a "audition notice" for a show called "The Singing Bee." I was all, "Hey, I can sing! And I frigging LOVE bees!" So, I sent in my details, and promptly forgot about it.
Lo and behold, a week later, some casting intern wrote back, asking me if I'd be available to come and audition...at beautiful CBS Radford Studios (a place I'd been, probably, about a dozen times already, for background work).
So I show up, sign in, and take a seat in a vast "underground cafeteria-looking room." It was filled with tables and chairs -- in front of each chair was a nice little "release form," and a free pen (free-ish). I took a seat next to a scary-looking young couple who smelled like cigarettes, gasoline fumes, and meth lab.
It was here that I found out that the show was being produced by the Country Music Channel, and that the song-mix was going to be about 60% country, 40% everything else.
Shit.
I hate country music.
Oh well. I'll gave it the ol' "sporting try." I figured, maybe there'd be a lot of Johnny Cash and Dixie Chicks.
Did I say "Dixie Chicks?" I meant Merle Haggard. Yeah.
So, the concept of the show was basically "Don't Forget the Lyrics," except, instead of Wayne Brady, there was some woman from the show Reba. And instead of "good music," there was a bunch of crappy country music.
My task was to take a "lyrics test." This is...exactly what you think it is. A bunch of song lyrics, with "blanks" to be filled in.
I did my level best, and handed over my sheet of paper. There were, maybe, about 90 people in this first room...and I thought that maybe a third of them were "country music fans," so that was the third that was going to be kept...while I'd be given a "better luck next time" by the 20-somethings who seemed to be in charge of casting the show.
True to their word, there was a lot of "good music" mixed in with the country...and a lot of the country songs were things that I'd heard. But there was also a crap-ton of wild guessing.
After everyone had completed the test, we sat around as the the tests were graded. They read off the list of those who'd be advancing to the next round of the interview process (a group of 24).
They started reading the names...and...well, because you're reading this blog entry, you probably guessed that I was one of those 24 names.
Cool.
What now?
Well, I'll tell you.
They split us into three groups (of 8) for a camera test, where we'd get to play a pared-down version of the show. I was in group #1, which was nice, because I was hungry...and going first meant I could get something to eat sooner.
The casting folks took us into another room, lined us up against the wall, and executed each of us with a single bullet to the back of the head.
Wait, whoops. Sorry. Let me try that again. They lined us up against a wall and asked us a series of questions, drawing information from one of the sheets that we filled out earlier. That's right. Sorry, I got confused.
My turn came up.
"Hi, what's your name?"
"Tyler Rhoades."
"And Tyler, do you listen to country music?"
"All the time."
"Who is your favorite country singer?"
Pause.
"Oh, y'know. Johnny Cash. He's incredible."
"It says here that you're a Paula Abdul fan?"
"Yes. I frigging love Paula Abdul." (I don't, but I thought it'd be funny)
"Could we just get you to say that directly into the camera?" Apparently they'd been talking over the part where I said that...so they made me dance like a monkey. I was happy to oblige.
"I...frigging....love....Paula....Abdul."
"What do you like about her?"
Pause.
"I had her poster on the wall," (another lie). "It was the one where she was wearing a kind of leather cap, and..." (I imitated the imaginary poster, to the delight of the interviewers) "Just all the metal and leather. It was a pretty amazing poster."
"And can you tell us one interesting thing about you?"
Pause.
"I've been using Rogaine for the last three years, and my scalp has never been more luscious and full than it is now."
Laughter. Couldn't tell if it was polite or not. But...laughter is laughter, right? Self-deprecation FTW.
Anyways, they worked their way down the line, interviewing those other poor saps, and then the "game show" part of the interview started.
They had a laptop set up, preloaded with songs. They'd play a bit of the song, then stop it. If you knew the lyrics, you'd raise your hand. They'd call on you. Then you'd step forward and "sing the hell out of the missing lyrics," whether you were accurate or not. Because they reminded us, you don't have to be a great singer, just really animated and interesting.
If you were right, they'd ding a bell. If you were wrong, they'd push the button on a buzzer.
The game started. Nobody scored on the first song. Probably just early jitters. I didn't even try.
Next song started:
My heroes had the heart
To lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember
Is thinking, I want to be like them...
Uh oh. Gnarles Barkley. Crap. I can't understand the guy most of the time, but I like the song. Maybe I can snag this one.
Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little
It looked like fun
And the music stopped.
I raised my hand.
They called on me.
I stepped forward.
I was told to wait until the camera got a close-up of me. Then I was supposed to say my name.
"Tyler Rhoades."
"Okay. Go ahead."
"And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"
DING!!!
Thank God that happened...because that part of the song always confused me. It doesn't really make sense grammatically. Though, who am I to criticize the great Gnarles?
And luckily for me, this part kinda' played to my strength as a singer -- I could give 'er a little "rock growl," without having to get too high, or sound too pretty. The casting folks looked sufficiently surprised, and impressed.
We continued on. I think I got two or three more songs right (pretty sure one of them was a Phil Collins song). Which, among the group of 8, made me the highest scorer.
Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that second part of the audition. I mean...I think they sensed that I wasn't quite the "country music" fan that I pretended to be...but I have what my wife likes to call "A Surprisingly Good Voice." Which sounds like a back-handed compliment until you get a good look at me...then it makes sense.
So a week or two later, I got a call from one of the casting folks. They wanted me to come in to do a "trial run" of the show for producers, writers, network execs, and the host of the show (that woman from Reba).
I agreed. And thought, "Aw, dammit. I've got to listen to a bunch of country music now, don't I?" So, I logged into CMT.com and forced myself to sit through the worst genre of music ever conceived -- young country.
Ick.
TO BE CONTINUED (and hyper-linked...eventually) IN PART 2!!!
I was going to audition for "every game show" out there. And I was going to get on those game shows, because I think I'm smart (I'm not), and people generally like me (they don't). If I could just get on one...one tiny little show, I'd be set (to the tune of, at least, several thousand dollars).
It was foolproof.
And I got close a couple of times. I auditioned for "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader." Apparently, I'm not (fifth graders know that "yellow" plus "red" equals "orange," not "purple").
I also tried out for the show "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Apparently, my audition was pretty damn forgettable (they made fun of me for wanting to give most of my money away to my family...jerks).
However, eventually I did appear on a game show.
Well, kinda'.
I'll explain.
A little over a year ago I saw a "audition notice" for a show called "The Singing Bee." I was all, "Hey, I can sing! And I frigging LOVE bees!" So, I sent in my details, and promptly forgot about it.
Lo and behold, a week later, some casting intern wrote back, asking me if I'd be available to come and audition...at beautiful CBS Radford Studios (a place I'd been, probably, about a dozen times already, for background work).
So I show up, sign in, and take a seat in a vast "underground cafeteria-looking room." It was filled with tables and chairs -- in front of each chair was a nice little "release form," and a free pen (free-ish). I took a seat next to a scary-looking young couple who smelled like cigarettes, gasoline fumes, and meth lab.
It was here that I found out that the show was being produced by the Country Music Channel, and that the song-mix was going to be about 60% country, 40% everything else.
Shit.
I hate country music.
Oh well. I'll gave it the ol' "sporting try." I figured, maybe there'd be a lot of Johnny Cash and Dixie Chicks.
Did I say "Dixie Chicks?" I meant Merle Haggard. Yeah.
So, the concept of the show was basically "Don't Forget the Lyrics," except, instead of Wayne Brady, there was some woman from the show Reba. And instead of "good music," there was a bunch of crappy country music.
My task was to take a "lyrics test." This is...exactly what you think it is. A bunch of song lyrics, with "blanks" to be filled in.
I did my level best, and handed over my sheet of paper. There were, maybe, about 90 people in this first room...and I thought that maybe a third of them were "country music fans," so that was the third that was going to be kept...while I'd be given a "better luck next time" by the 20-somethings who seemed to be in charge of casting the show.
True to their word, there was a lot of "good music" mixed in with the country...and a lot of the country songs were things that I'd heard. But there was also a crap-ton of wild guessing.
After everyone had completed the test, we sat around as the the tests were graded. They read off the list of those who'd be advancing to the next round of the interview process (a group of 24).
They started reading the names...and...well, because you're reading this blog entry, you probably guessed that I was one of those 24 names.
Cool.
What now?
Well, I'll tell you.
They split us into three groups (of 8) for a camera test, where we'd get to play a pared-down version of the show. I was in group #1, which was nice, because I was hungry...and going first meant I could get something to eat sooner.
The casting folks took us into another room, lined us up against the wall, and executed each of us with a single bullet to the back of the head.
Wait, whoops. Sorry. Let me try that again. They lined us up against a wall and asked us a series of questions, drawing information from one of the sheets that we filled out earlier. That's right. Sorry, I got confused.
My turn came up.
"Hi, what's your name?"
"Tyler Rhoades."
"And Tyler, do you listen to country music?"
"All the time."
"Who is your favorite country singer?"
Pause.
"Oh, y'know. Johnny Cash. He's incredible."
"It says here that you're a Paula Abdul fan?"
"Yes. I frigging love Paula Abdul." (I don't, but I thought it'd be funny)
"Could we just get you to say that directly into the camera?" Apparently they'd been talking over the part where I said that...so they made me dance like a monkey. I was happy to oblige.
"I...frigging....love....Paula....Abdul."
"What do you like about her?"
Pause.
"I had her poster on the wall," (another lie). "It was the one where she was wearing a kind of leather cap, and..." (I imitated the imaginary poster, to the delight of the interviewers) "Just all the metal and leather. It was a pretty amazing poster."
"And can you tell us one interesting thing about you?"
Pause.
"I've been using Rogaine for the last three years, and my scalp has never been more luscious and full than it is now."
Laughter. Couldn't tell if it was polite or not. But...laughter is laughter, right? Self-deprecation FTW.
Anyways, they worked their way down the line, interviewing those other poor saps, and then the "game show" part of the interview started.
They had a laptop set up, preloaded with songs. They'd play a bit of the song, then stop it. If you knew the lyrics, you'd raise your hand. They'd call on you. Then you'd step forward and "sing the hell out of the missing lyrics," whether you were accurate or not. Because they reminded us, you don't have to be a great singer, just really animated and interesting.
If you were right, they'd ding a bell. If you were wrong, they'd push the button on a buzzer.
The game started. Nobody scored on the first song. Probably just early jitters. I didn't even try.
Next song started:
My heroes had the heart
To lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember
Is thinking, I want to be like them...
Uh oh. Gnarles Barkley. Crap. I can't understand the guy most of the time, but I like the song. Maybe I can snag this one.
Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little
It looked like fun
And the music stopped.
I raised my hand.
They called on me.
I stepped forward.
I was told to wait until the camera got a close-up of me. Then I was supposed to say my name.
"Tyler Rhoades."
"Okay. Go ahead."
"And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"
DING!!!
Thank God that happened...because that part of the song always confused me. It doesn't really make sense grammatically. Though, who am I to criticize the great Gnarles?
And luckily for me, this part kinda' played to my strength as a singer -- I could give 'er a little "rock growl," without having to get too high, or sound too pretty. The casting folks looked sufficiently surprised, and impressed.
We continued on. I think I got two or three more songs right (pretty sure one of them was a Phil Collins song). Which, among the group of 8, made me the highest scorer.
Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that second part of the audition. I mean...I think they sensed that I wasn't quite the "country music" fan that I pretended to be...but I have what my wife likes to call "A Surprisingly Good Voice." Which sounds like a back-handed compliment until you get a good look at me...then it makes sense.
So a week or two later, I got a call from one of the casting folks. They wanted me to come in to do a "trial run" of the show for producers, writers, network execs, and the host of the show (that woman from Reba).
I agreed. And thought, "Aw, dammit. I've got to listen to a bunch of country music now, don't I?" So, I logged into CMT.com and forced myself to sit through the worst genre of music ever conceived -- young country.
Ick.
TO BE CONTINUED (and hyper-linked...eventually) IN PART 2!!!
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