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On a popular morning show recently, the hosts asked, “What song would you sing if you were to audition for American Idol? I knew the answer right away. I would sing, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” — Gordon Lightfoot’s six-minute droning tale of the sunken merchant ship from decades ago. When the judges asked me to “Stop. Please stop,” I would continue singing until security threw me out.
Unfortunately, I am far too old to appear on American Idol, but when Senior Idol comes along, I’ll be right there singing, “Who Put the Bomp (in the Bomp, Bomp, Bomp)” or possibly an operatic number from Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Last year, as part of a writing project, I went to go see several American Idol shows as they were performed live at CBS Television City in Hollywood, and I also attended the seventh season auditions in San Diego. Now that I’ve gone public with this, I’m told that I now have to file an application to have my manhood reinstated. But, hey, pride is overrated. One of the things that I learned at the auditions is that part what you see on TV during the auditions is a big fat lie. The show gives you the impression that the stadiums of people who show up all get to audition in front of Randy, Paula, and Simon. The truth is, only about two to three hundred of those thousands of people get to do that. They don’t even get to do it on the weekend when everyone shows up at the stadium. It happens at a smaller venue later, at a time and place of the producer’s choosing. Everyone else is eliminated beforehand by a staff of hired music professionals, by the producers of the show, and by a monkey named Bobo. Incidentally, Bobo also does Ryan Seacrest’s hair and writes lines for Paula Abdul. What I learned when watching the show live, as well as seeing some of the dress rehearsals that take place shortly before the live broadcast, is that the kids (I’m old, remember?) on the show really to have tremendous talent. They’re even better in person. They also have to deal with a billion distractions, a number of technical aspects, and the non-stop judgment of the American public, which can be as harsh and unforgiving as a non-aloe based soap on my tender skin (I’m old, remember?). Veterans of the show often refer to American Idol as a bootcamp for stardom, which is in no way similar to how I refer to appetizers as a bootcamp for dinner. It’s entirely different. You may be wondering how I managed to attend all these shows. It turns out that, when my wife was taking night classes, I had a lot of free time. So while she was sitting in classes listening to lectures and getting homework assignments, I was seeing live performances by Pink, Maroon Five, and Elliot Yamin. We are still attending counseling sessions for the damage this caused, but don’t worry, we’re working through it. Another thing I learned while doing this is that there’s no gum chewing on the American Idol set. They make a big deal out of this. CBS pages actually walk the audience with paper cups and collect the gum from people. It’s true. When I was there, I saw one of the pages approach the row in front of me and have a girl spit her gum into the cup. I looked away nonchalantly. “Sir,” the page said to me, a sly smile on his face, “I assume you swallowed the gum you were chewing?” Suddenly I was in third grade again. I nodded my head guiltily and waited until the page left before I actually gulped it down. Attending American Idol shows taught me something about myself, which is that I am a liar. The last show I went to was the one on which Melinda Doolittle was eliminated, leaving Blake Lewis and Jordin Sparks as the final two contestants. I was at the front of the line for the show, and sitting next to me was Melinda Doolittle’s grandpa. He asked, “So, who are you voting for?” Seeing that I already knew who he was, I said, “Melinda Doolittle.” “She’s my granddaughter,” he explained with understandable pride. I know, I thought. That’s why I just lied to you. Actually, I’m rooting for Jordin Sparks. It’s probably one of the most justified white lies I ever told. What I actually should have done is said, “I’m voting for Kelly Clarkson!” and then faked a seizure so he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. But you never think of these things until it’s too late. So the next time you’re watching American Idol, or you’re watching American Idol reruns, or you see a commercial for American Idol, or you come across a promotional campaign that has an American Idol tie-in, or you hear somebody talking about American Idol, think of me. Ah heck, you might as well just think about me non-stop and be done with it. It’s not as tough as you might think; I do it all the time… |
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