Say 'Goodbye' to Hollywood: Highlights and Insights of An Interesting Television Experience

"I'd like to build the world a home


And furnish it with love


Grow apple trees and honey bees


And snow-white turtle doves"



Is there a better song than this to be singing at 5:30 in the morning? Not if you were auditioning for the seventh season of American Idol in Atlanta at the Georgia Dome. Like a never-ending cycle, the refrain from "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing" was hammered into our heads by a Production assistant from the fifty-yard line, directing a crowd of hopefuls that eventually filled nearly half of the Dome's first-level capacity. For an hour or so, that is all we did, we sang and clapped half-heartedly as a majority of folks waited for their caffeine to kick in. From the get-go, my brother Nick rolled his eyes; such happy lyrics are not necessarily his flavor of choice, so he rewrote the refrain with every turnaround to include something either more vulgar or suggestive. For the sake of not typing his versions of the song here, we'll just say that he made Mojo Nixon proud. As for me, I just had to stop my self from singing "I'd like to buy the world a Coke"; it seemed fitting considering that Coca-Cola used the song in a classic advertisement and they also just happened to be one of American Idol's biggest sponsors.



We'll fast-forward through a few hours of waiting, though there were even a couple highlights during that time that are worth mentioning:



- While listening to the Fox Music Network over the dome's PA, we heard an interview with Chad Kroeger from Canadian band Nickelback. During the snippet, he talked about how being real and finding inspiration from what you know is the key to writing great songs. He went further to talk about how their audience would be perceptive enough to lose interest if Nickelback if the band were ever to "phone in" a new album. All I can hope is that their audience would be perceptive enough to realize that Nickelback is so generic, that not even I could tell what is "phoned in" and what is sincere. Just because I once said that Chad Kroeger looked like a Hollywood version of Jesus does NOT mean he will ever be the savior of rock and roll.



- In this time of waiting we also learned that public school systems really do fail people, not in grades necessarily as much as basic social and understanding skills. Funny enough, this could also contribute to the reason Nickelback is so popular. Just like in elementary school, everybody auditioning was given a seat assignment via tickets; these tickets were plainly marked with a number to a specific seat in the stands and, more than likely, were handed out in a certain order pertaining to the time at which you registered to audition. This did not stop the numerous Idol hopefuls who happily parked it anywhere they saw fit, which leads us to the fun exchange I witnessed just two rows in front of me. A girl and her mother, both sporting matching bleached blond hair, arrived to find a group of four young ladies that were occupying their assigned seat. When approached by the daughter, these girls stated that they were aware that they were sitting in the wrong seats but were only doing so because yet another group of folks had taken their seats. Much like myself, the mother of the girl, did not care about these four other idiots' situation, she just wanted them to get the hell out of her seat; they refused, citing that they were their first. At which point the furious mother said, "I'll get security," which in a whole new realm of idiocy consisted of her looking at MY brother who was in HIS seat and asking, "Would you please get someone in security?" Hold the phone. You will take the time to argue about your seat with the morons sitting in them, yet you are such a moron yourself that you will not step away from the conflict for just a moment to track down and tag a yellow-shirted guard? Needless to say, I laughed when Nick's response was, "Um, no."



ANYWAY, it was approaching mid-day at the Dome when Mr. Seacrest hit the field. I have to hand it to him, he is nothing if not two things: a hype man of the highest hip-hop standard and a hilarious highlight of Judd Apatow's 'Knocked Up'. When he took to the microphone, the crowd was awakened, and we totally forgot that we had already been up, awake, and waiting for nearly 7 hours at that point. It was what followed that reminded me about the magic of television. Within twenty minutes, Mr. Seacrest filmed the opening and closing sequence of the Atlanta show, during which time we were voluntary extras. During this time, we were instructed to keep silent; we were reminded, [my favorite quote of the day] "Mr. Seacrest's time is very valuable." Following his few minutes of prologue and epilogue crooning, Mr. Seacrest waved goodbye to his hometown crowd, hopped on a flight back to L.A., and probably kissed the ground as soon as he stepped foot back on Hollywood soil. I can't help but respect that. Afterall, if you are Mr. Seacrest, you don't have to deal with idiots battling over their seating assignments.



On with the auditions...



(Let it be noted that though it will appear differently on television, Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson, and Paula Abdul were not at this audition.)



Nick and I stepped on the field to sing at 3:11 PM, roughly ten hours after getting there. we were shuffled into various, random lines of four and sent to one of thirteen tables occupied by members of the production team. The line of four would approach the table, each individual would have roughly thirty seconds to sing, the producers would then discuss amongst themselves, and if anyone was the caliber that they were looking for, they were sent on to fill out further info; those who didn't make it past this table just went home.

I got to watch Nick audition at the table next to mine; he was singing Sam Cooke and singing it well. Sadly, I watched as all four possibilities, including Nick, took the walk towards the "Non-Winners' Exit" [because on American Idol, there is never a loser]. At the time, it qwas tough to judge his feelings on the matter, or to even know how it all went down. I come to find out later that his production lady was a real piece of work, telling all four hopefuls that their voices were "interesting" in the way that translates to the sensitive ear as "not good". As my group of four approached the table, it was obvious that all the stops were needing to be pulled, as I had been toying with what song to sing for days. In the end, I felt my karaoke brethren would at least smile upon me with a dignified loss if I was keeping it real, so I chose the immortal "I'd Do Anything for Love" by Meat Loaf. It was interesting to sing while also watching the reactions of these two producers, one of whom was a hipster-looking guy and the other a synthetic smile of a lady. He looked like he wanted to laugh and she just looked terrified, both of which are reactions that I can live with and look back on fondly. As they brought the four of us to the table they thanked us for coming, and said they were on the fence in regards to my performance. They called another producer via walkie talkie and said something I couldn't hear, but I would love to have heard, "Chuck, do we need a fat guy who sings Meat Loaf for this season? I've got a live one here." Apparently, the answer was "No."

My final mental picture of this American Idol audition captures another rejected hopeful who walked the long path to the parking deck. She was just a few strides ahead of me, but as we passed Georgia Dome personell and security making our way out, she seemed to be in high spirits. She was smiling and glowing all the way to the final staircase that ascended to street level. When we reached the top of the steps, an older woman waved, and this stunning girl collapsed into tears in her mother's arms. As I walked towards the car where Nick was waiting with his girlfriend Laura and our dear friend Kat, I heard her scream out amidst the tears, "They didn't want me!" I can't necessarily explain why I started laughing; it probably has something to do with the fact that while the statement was factual in this context, it was still overly dramatic [especially considering that at this point, there were no cameras rolling].

In hindsight, it was a fun, interesting, failed experiment. Of all people, I have been the first to say that I don't really see myself as Idol material. What I learned was that a lot of people DO see themselves that way. This was more than living the dream, this was the fast track to what they envisioned for the dream. In their minds, it is all completely logical:

I have a great singing voice. I will sing and they will like it because it sounds good. I will go to Hollywood. I will win over the hearts of America with my charm and wit; my friends and family have always told me that I am charming and witty. I will win American Idol. I will tour and promote my first album. I will be invited to parties. I will have a brief fling with a B-list celebrity that will lead to magazine cover glory. I will be a household name. I will be a legend. I will be happy, for once by God. I will be complete.

When the reality that these folks are competing with thousands of other folks who share this vision creeps in, usually after they have not won, they are totally crushed. The fact is, they shouldn't be. The producers were not Simon Cowell; they may not have liked your voice, but that doesn't mean they flat-out told you to never sing again. Keep singing if that is your passion. In the end, this is merely a television show that revolves around singing. Singing in reality has very little to do with Hollywood, Coca-Cola, endorsements, record deals, tabloids, money. My God, Chad Kroeger was right! Even if you suck, you just may be doing what you love and doing what you know. I know that I love music, and just because I don't get two cents from a record company big-whig, a former Lakers cheerleader, and a bass player for Journey will not change that. Afterall, keeping a firm grasp on reality is what makes a dream worthwhile.

A Moment Like This?: Thoughts on the Eve of American Idol Registration

Why am I auditioning for 'American Idol'? Perhaps it should do all of you good to know that I am totally aware of what I am up against in the next few days. 'American Idol' is more than a reality TV show; to millions of viewers, it is the reality TV show when it comes around every year. It attracts all of the ratings with a perfect twist of the bizarre (namely the audition episodes), the uncomfortable (every season has one person that shouldn't have made it that far), and the overall talented (usually the top 12), along with a loveable ringmaster in Ryan Seacrest and the ever-entertaing judges Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul, and Simon Cowell. Though a money-making juggernaut, the essence of the show does what most in the record company would never dream of doing these days, breaking down the wall between the passionate music lover and the business of which they are a consumer, thereby giving any John Q. Viewer with a voice the opportunity to further themselves in a music career. That seems easy enough, right? No pressure whatsoever.

I don't fully know what to expect of the auditions. I suppose that in my mind's eye it would be the biggest excercise in controlled chaos ever. Occupying the Georgia Dome will be thousands of everyday people, ranging in vocal styles anywhere between Mariah Carey and a 2 year-old toddler singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". I would imagine that the producers of this show must be some of the most patient and skilled in the business, carefully sifting through the mediocre casual crooners to grab onto the handful of honest possible contenders and another handful of crazies that are just as inspired. How many times do you think they will hear "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban? Could you ever listen to anything by Whitney Houston again after being paid to sit through a few thousand off-key renditions of "Saving All My Love"? They will sit through as many as necessary so that we as viewers can enjoy the very few that were easily the most ridiculous, most enjoyable, or both in front of the panel of judges (sometimes even both). These producers give the final program a stroke of genious that no writer could invent; God bless them, every one.

As for me, as I have already stated, I am a longshot and a half. For starters, I am hardly genre-specific when it comes to singing. Daughtry was a rocker, Fantasia sings R & B, Carrie Underwood was always a country girl (as was Bucky), Clay was a crooner, and Ruben was all about soul. I enjoy singing a little bit of it all, which is tough to sell in a format-based radio market. Second, I have no style. Sure, once you are on the show, they set you up with the stylists that give you a look for the show, but beyond that I have absolutely no fashion sense. However, I should also state for the record that I would never be dumb enough to try and pull off any of the numerous hair styles that Sanjaya was brave enough to fail at. Image is way more important than some people consider in the music industry; sometimes, it can even make up for what you lack in talent. I am always reminded of this by an old episode of the Partridge Family. The band is booked to play an Air Force base under the agreement that they back uo an 18 year-old daughter as a favor to a friend of band manager Reuben Kincaide. Keith Partridge falls in love with her, as she is beautiful. What Keith doesn't realize until later is that she can't carry a tune at all. Of course, the family is now in crisis mode as they will be playing a song for a horrible singer. Reuben, the genious that he was, dresses her in hot pants for the performance, and the loud cheers and cat calls of the crowd drown out the sound of her voice. In effect, this still happens today, but it won't be anytime soon that anyone will squeeze this dude into a pair of hot pants for the sake of selling a record.

At the end of the day, it all comes down to the fact that this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sing in front of as many people as possible. It would be ridiculous for me to not at least try. Regardless of the outcome, even if my tenure goes no further than registering for a spot in the audition line-up tomorrow, I can look back and say that I was there. That is more than what some others could say. I could be the next Taylor Hicks as easily as I could be turned into the next William Hung, but for now I will take my cues from Sanjaya; God knows if he can make it, just about anyone can.

"Seacrest out."