I watch Mad Men. I
also watch American Idol.
Well,
that sounds like an unholy combination if there ever was one. But before you
start bombarding me with accusations about how I’m contributing to the pitiful
state of modern-day network TV or whatever, I will say this: I’m as worried as
the next person about the continuing popularity of reality TV as opposed to
scripted programming, and I regularly mourn the fact that more people watch The Bachelor than, say, Fringe or Community. In fact, American
Idol is the only reality show that I have ever watched regularly and
voluntarily, and even then, I watch it fully aware of the fact that, even at
its best, it’s not much more than bizarrely addictive escapism. Still, who am I
to deny people something that they enjoy? Besides, I’m one of those few, loyal
viewers that compelled
Fox to flush logic down the toilet like a dead insect and give Fringe the fifth season it so richly
deserves, so I think I’m entitled to one guilty pleasure.
At least we’re not watching kids murder each other for
entertainment, right?
There was a time, though, when I didn’t feel that guilty
about watching American Idol
(admittedly, even now, I would rather watch it than many scripted shows (*cough*
Glee *cough*), but that’s beside the
point). At the height of its popularity during the mid-‘00s, Idol was a genuine cultural phenomenon,
the kind of show that people talked about at the dinner table or the water
cooler for days afterward. It was dumb and shamelessly gaudy, but somehow, it mattered. Season 5, the show’s most-watched season to
date, averaged 30.6 viewers per episode, an audience that most shows nowadays
can only dream of due to the increasingly fragmented nature of modern
television, and it really felt as though the entire nation watched Taylor Hicks
win the coveted trophy (and subsequently flung their remotes at the TV).
Whether you loved or hated them, the three original judges – Simon Cowell,
Paula Abdul and Randy “The Dawg” Jackson – had an undeniable influence on pop
culture; even people who actively avoided the show knew who they were. And more
to the point, during its heyday, Idol
was actually entertaining to watch, even if it was only as escapist fluff.
My
personal source of nostalgia, the season against which all other seasons are
compared and the one that reminds me why I watched the show in the first place,
is season 7, the year scruffy, soulful rocker David Cook won. It may not have
been the most popular or even the most exciting, but for me, season 7 will most
likely always be the high point of Idol.
How can I forget the wonder of hearing 17 year old runner-up David Archuleta croon John Lennon’s “Imagine”
for the first time? Or the outrage I felt after finding out that Michael
Johns had inexplicably been voted out in eight
place? Or the pure joy of seeing David C. win it all and somehow make a
song that contains the words “magic rainbows” not sound the least bit corny?
And no matter what anyone else says, my favorite Idol duets will always be David
A. and David C.’s “Hero” and Michael Johns and Carly
Smithson’s “The Letter”, both of which were performed
during the season 7 finale. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t started reading online
blogs yet, but for some reason, the 7th season felt more real than the most recent seasons. The
contestants seemed nice, charismatic and honest (just watch this); the judges gave
actual criticism; and most of all, the music mattered more than the politics.
David Cook and David Archuleta became the top 2 because they were both amazing
singers in their own way and deserved to win, not because of their race,
religion, looks or demographic.
Besides, if it was based on looks, he would have
gotten farther than 8th place.
Then, something changed. The problem isn’t that the past four winners have all been WGWG
(White Guys With Guitars), though it is more than a little disturbing that five
years have gone by since a woman or a minority last won; as long as the person
is a good singer and an entertaining performer, I don’t care what gender or
race he is. The real problem is that for the past two (or even three, though
season 9 was so boring and forgettable that it doesn’t merit much consideration)
seasons, contestants have been routinely rewarded for playing it safe and being
as predictable as possible. Maybe it’s
the fault of the contestants themselves: whereas in season 7, the vast majority
of the 12 finalists were over the age of 20, the show has recently skewered
toward younger contestants with such severity that this season’s Elise Testone
has consistently been called a “grandma” despite being the ripe old age of 28. I have nothing against young people
(and it feels weird to be criticizing people for being young when they’re about
my age), but with youth also comes a lack of experience. In season 7, most of
the contestants clearly knew what they were doing and cared deeply about having
a future career in music, but many of the contestants in the past few seasons
seem sadly clueless and, frankly, inept. They’re awkward performers and
lackluster interview subjects, and perhaps most importantly, they have no idea
how to choose a song. Very few contestants bother to try anything new, and when
they do, it’s usually at the judges’ prompting.
Speaking of which, the judges are terrible. Not until I suffered through two seasons of listening to
Randy blabber on about how “you were kinda sorta pitchy, dude”, Steven Tyler
call everyone beautiful and J.Lo forget the names of classic songs, did I
realize how good the original judges were. Paula may have been ditzy and
borderline incoherent, but at least she was entertainingly so, unlike all three
of the current judges, who are just exasperating. Randy actually critiqued
people instead of randomly dropping names of his various celebrity
acquaintances and hollering about people being “in it to win it”. Simon was,
well , Simon. I can’t help but wonder how these past couple of seasons would
have gone if they’d had even an ounce of that judge’s brutal, if occasionally
callous, honesty. I’d like to say that Haley Reinhart or maybe James Durbin
would have won season 10 instead of Scotty McCreery, though Simon clearly
couldn’t stop Lee DeWyze from winning the previous season, and in fact, Simon
went on record saying that Scotty was his favorite contestant of the season (to
which I say, really?).
Even worse than the new judges’ apparent inability to form complete sentences
is their blatant hypocrisy. Time and time again, they urge certain contestants
to “change it up” while they tell others, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”,
which is just about the stupidest advice I’ve ever heard (well, other than criticizing
Elise Testone for choosing “Bold as Love”, a song that “nobody has heard of”,
even though it’s Jimi fucking Hendrix).
At
the end of the day, though, the fact is that if they had been in the current
season, David Cook would probably have risked elimination for talking back to the judges
(apparently, it’s rude to defend yourself), and Michael Johns would have been
criticized for doing “Light My Fire” by The
Doors because the
song is too artsy. And I can’t even imagine someone nowadays giving a performance like this one. Recently,
contestants have been continuously rewarded for safeness and punished for
risk-taking. Last season, Pia Toscano was infamously booted off after following
the judges’ advice and shunning her usual ballads in favor of the up-tempo
“River Deep, Mountain High”, and a couple weeks ago, Colton Dixon, an openly
devout Christian, followed up his impeccable cover of “Love the
Way You Lie” by taking
on Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” and a radically altered version of
Earth, Wind and Fire’s “September” and got subsequently ousted. In a
post-elimination interview, Colton blamed his decision to do Lady Gaga as his
fatal misstep, saying that it alienated his core audience. Normally, I’d
complain about this, but sadly, it’s not hard to believe that he’s right: he dared
to break out of his image as a stereotypical, wholesome Christian, and voters
responded by abandoning him. Essentially, they’re saying that you’re safe as
long as you play the game and don’t stray outside your comfort zone. It’s a
shame because although “Bad Romance” may not be Colton’s technically best
performance, it was ambitious and surprising and made me clap with maniacal glee.
I want to see more of that on Idol (and this).
Screw you, America.
This was awesome.
I can pretty much already predict how this season is
going to turn out: Dave Matthews impersonator Phillip Phillips (another WGWG) is going to win, even though
– to put it bluntly – he can’t sing a melody to save his life, and I’m going to
swear that I’m officially done with the show because what’s the point anymore?
And yet, come January, I’m going to be watching performances on YouTube and
getting invested in yet another contestant who will inevitably fail to live up
to my expectations. Congratulations, Idol.
You win.
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