American, Idle

Edition #44 — 16 May 2003

American Idle (A Reality TV Reality Check)

I suspect that a lot of people think that American Idol is a "real" show. They might believe that whoever wins will actually "become" a star. Well, how could they not — with all these important people judging them and hooking them up to the industry? This is their big break, right?

For those who don't know about it, American Idol is another "reality" TV show where people sing songs instead of eating bugs in the Amazon. It's a Survivor-style Karaoke contest for kids. Instead of competing for money, they compete to get recorded and be promoted as singers — pop idols, to be exact.

Their judges are people supposedly with their hands on the pulse of the music industry — even though it's been in a coma for several years and they're obviously too busy sitting in front of cameras, rehearsing for shows and thinking about the ratings to know how to pronounce Avril Lavigne, let alone take a pulse reading...

Ah, to become America's next biggest singing sensation — wouldn't it be wonderful? Why waste years touring across the country, developing your style, talent and endurance when all you have to do is just stand in line at some theatre and audition for the big time as an American Idol?

Fame — What It Takes (Shameless is Famous)

Everybody wants their rightful 15 minutes, whether it's victorious or shameful. Monika Lewinsky, famous for blowing Bill Clinton, is now a star too. Without that famous penis in her mouth, she'd be just another secretary without a boyfriend. Now we might see her at the Emmy's cause she's got her own TV show in the works! As for American Idol contestants, fame must surely be within reach with all those cameras rolling — and Paula Abdul in the house. The dice are loaded, it would seem. Or are they?

But will anyone truly become a star? Maybe star for the day, like that Richard fellow — winner of the first Survivor series. Nowadays the only camera he's in front of is held by family or friends on his birthday. Oh yeah, he did have a non-speaking cameo appearance on the season finale of Survivor last week. But otherwise, he's become anonymous again. The other contestants from that first Survivor show? Anonymous. But that's reality — or more accurately: reality TV.

Look, I don't wanna seem cynical for American Idol bashing — I just wanted to get real; to look at the undercarriage of its premise. I'm not some disgruntled musician bickering about people half my age not knowing "the real world" and what it was like "when I was their age..."

But I do remember that most entertainers put out an album first — and then they got famous. On American Idol they get famous first, and then they have to deal with the consequences, like developing an act, writing songs, and putting out an album. And those are already done for them in advance. So the artist is merely a commerical pawn; a product; a guy who sells ad space for the network by singing other people's famous songs between commercials.

Back in "the old days" we'd be forced by tradition to write our own songs and play our own instruments, then drive for hours just to get to some low paying crummy gig on a cramped stage in some smokey bar in the back woods where everybody's name was Zeke — or should have been (sorry Doug, I know you named one of your kids that...) These guys are starting off at the top of the promotional foodchain and they haven't done anything original, at least not yet. You know that spells trouble. This "prefabrication" syndrome is one of the reasons why the music business is in a coma: they can only bullshit us with big tits and midriffs for so long before we become bored, or wisen up. We're not that gullible, ya know!

The glory of music's attraction is that upon hearing "the real thing" for the first time, it feels like a blissful, frenzied shark attack on your emotions. These American Idols are goldfish; bowl-fed, PH balanced and generically packaged. Where the fuck is Johnny Rotten when you need him most? This is like watching a magician with a see-through curtain.

Whatever Happened To [insert American Idol here]?

Truth is, this is all too much. It's like Jerry Springer meets The Gong Show. Speaking of "ghosts of media past": isn't there already an American Idol anyway? Whatever happened to that "Kelly...Whats-her-name" who won last year's contest, and why haven't they stopped looking for American Idols if they found one last year? Shouldn't they be focussing all their efforts and resources on "the winner"? After all, wasn't that the purpose of searching for an idol in the first place? No? Whadday mean "NO"?

Truth is, Kelly's as disposable as a pair of soggy diapers. It doesn't matter if she can sing well or not — it was never about her in the first place. She's a pawn — the show is the only "idol" that viewers worship. And the only true "stars", if you want to call them that, are that Simon fellow (a big Jerry Springer "boo!" please), that other nice and agreeable black man whose name I don't know, and that famous choreographer hispanic babe who had a couple of hits about 12 years ago or more, Paula Abdul. Kelly What's-her-name may never be seen or heard from again, but we can bank on American Idol and its three stars (or their replacements) coming back next year.

Kelly? The other day I saw her new album advertised at a major record store here in Toronto. Good for her. Except that her promoters tried to make her look like Avril Lavigne. That's the promotional equivalent of singing Karioke and hoping to become well known, and respected, for imitating an original. Sorry, sis.

Little Avril Lavigne already rules the planet with her cool and hip teen vibe — and she writes her own songs, plays a guitar, and probably partakes of several miscellaneous and mandatory rock star proclivites to bolster her well-deserved credibility. She invented her look — she didn't send out for it like a pizza. She does her own hair and makeup - absolutely refuses to let others mess with her look. Now that's an original — a shark. Kelly? You just know she's a goldfish.

Make Enough Noise, They Won't Notice The Silence!

Ah, reality — although the process might have become the event, bamboozling us with its big muddle of noise, "Boy, I can hardly wait"-style voice overs, and ample cleavage, at least the ultimate outcome will never change.

I mean, like — GET REAL! Would you pay $50 bucks or more to watch someone sing Karioke for two hours? Sure, when all the real entertainers have died. The Stones, KISS and Aerosmith will soon pass on from old age, and after Britney Spears retires there will be another major gap left to fill — where her boobs once dwelled. As a musician I truly worry for our collective musical future. Where are the Jim Morrisons and Sid Vicious's and Curt Cobains of tomorrow coming from? These new kids, they can't even spell "overdose". Quite frankly, I'm worried.

Yours — really truly,

Roland Kriewaldt


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