Monsters of Television

If these be the idols we must choose from, what failed gods we have.

Flat voices. Dearth of presence. Wannabes. And the most uncomfortable performance of a song I’ve seen since an elementary school recital. These are the jokers we have to choose from. Well, you have to choose from. I can’t in good conscience waste one of my unlimited text messages to vote for one of these saps. Sure, it would cost me nothing but the inconsequential tax my SMS message would put on the T-Mobile phone system is too much to submit for some of these people. I mean, that poor kid was squeezing the life out of that microphone.

I’m not used to this show, but I’m told this isn’t typical for being this late in the competition. One contestant after another bringing a sad sack performance to the fore, trying to hit falsetti they don’t have, awkwardly moving around stage with their favorite rock stars’ moves, making me cringe the entire time between commercial breaks. Seriously, seeing another ad for Sons of Tucson was sweet, sweet relief. I love you, Sock.

And even with all the terrible, boring, and/or warbling performances, the worst part was the audience taking the time to boo the judges for honestly telling the performers how weak they were. Okay, I say judges. I mean they were booing Simon. I think, with so many seasons of Simon being the bad guy (something the guy seems to embrace), it’s easy for American Idol-watching veterans to dismiss his opinion, despite his usually being the most reasonable (if articulated with enough venom to amuse himself). But to take the effort to actually boo him in public? I really hope they had some Jerry Springer producers on the side goading them on or something because the alternative is just too sad. Maybe it’s a game by now. Maybe it’s a tradition to boo the Big Bad Simon during these performances. Not sure that makes it any less pathetic. They didn’t boo anyone for agreeing with him. And what about the judges saying, “I actually agree with Simon.” Like Simon is some curmudgeon they wheel on set with no credentials beyond the virulent elocution of outlandish opinions. They treat him like he just said, “I believe fire is magic and it scares me a lot.” Like what he’s saying is so insanely angry and off-the-wall, it needs a qualifier in order for someone to agree.

Yes, that fire bit is also The State.

I came into tonight’s episode a little late but was finally pleased to see Ellen get a crack in during this thing with Formerly Shirtless Guy. I imagine when they brought Ellen on as a judge they weren’t looking for a woman that would comment on how cute the contestants were and their viability with the “girls” voting. I figure they brought her on because she is a fan of music and has a rich history of quick-witted comedy. Instead we get a lesser, overly complimentary version of her. But maybe that’s just because she’s a nice person and doesn’t want to hurt the feelings of contestants so out of their league.

Finally, an appeal to the American public: don’t vote for these people. Do you remember a while back when Diddy had that reality show and he essentially said no one on the show had what it takes and held more auditions? Demand that. Maybe everyone in the performers’ pool had an off-day on the same night but, as it stands, I don’t want to hear any of these jerks belt out overproduced numbers for the next year and a half on the grocery store satellite radio. Demand better.

The sheer volume of crying montages on American Idol has desensitized me to sadness.

Noel talks about formulas within shows and I don’t think there are many that are more formulaic than Idol, despite the reality guise. Hopefuls go in, audition, get judged. Some hopefuls have a sad backstory (usually about children or disease or both); some just want to be celebrities. The segues are usually rough, involve some history or setting establishment for the city they’re in, and, at some point, one of them will be a montage of people crying because they didn’t get in. These poor wretches, caught on camera for all their friends to see, bawling their little eyes out because Simon called them terrible or because they weren’t bestowed with a yellow piece of paper (by the way, “Golden Tickets” are supposed to be rare, not given out thirty at a time). Hopes and dreams crushed under a music industry juggernaut, the excess that squishes from underfoot beamed to an audience of 10.4 rating.

This show is exhausting. Each featured contestant is an emotional vignette, hastily constructed. The featured contestants are milked for their story that is condensed to a minute or two, just enough time to hit their low-point (which might be in the present) and how the Golden Ticket will give them the vindication/satisfaction/external validation they need. The intent of the producers is to draw you into these people and root for them. But with a featured contestant during every segment (and with American Idol broken up into as many segments as possible to allow tons of time for advertisers), the ups and downs throughout the program are terribly exhausting. And then this show is on twice a week for weeks on end. They grow from exhausting to tiresome. If a contestant had cancer as a child, an autistic kid, or a sick grandmother, we know that judges aren’t going to dash her dreams (paint Simon as “evil” but never sinister) and, almost as a self-preservation emotionally, the draw is limited by recognizing the formula. In fact, the only draw left is in watching the crazy, over/underdressed personalities take the stage. Those can go either way. “Skiibowski, of course.”

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Let me introduce myself: I am the only person left in the United States that has not seen an episode of American Idol. I would say it’s just me and the visually-impaired but I’m sure they’ve at least sat in front of the television to listen to people try to impress others by being loud and wavering their voices. Not me. Didn’t care for it. My only contact with American Idol was through the sarcastic gaze of The Soup.

Is that something to be proud of? Am I a better person for not watching American Idol until the 9th season, the first season minus Paula Abdul, the last season for Simon Cowell, and the inaugural season for Ellen DeGeneres to join up in Hollywood? The easy answer is yes. But maybe not.

First of all, people that have sat through eight seasons of this must have nerves of steel. The show is exhausting. In fictional narratives, the scenes of intensity are organized and spread out. Every two minutes on this show there’s some sort of manipulative/heartbreaking/heartwarming/awkward scene that, in non-reality television, would probably not matter all that much. But, because these are real people, the mood intensifies. And it’s hard to watch.

And the singing, oh God, the singing. The bad ones are assumed to be painful but the good ones are just as rough. When people sing in my general area I don’t know where to look. And I get that awkward feeling just watching the auditions, like I need to be doing something else in order to cut the anxiety. My house has never been cleaner.

And it’s so long. Are all these shows going to be two hours? It gets repetitive. Here’s a singer that struggled and but is finally making a dream come true. Here’s a goofball without a shot. Here’s the unassuming, small-voiced wonder kid that can belt it out to the rafters. Uh-oh, Simon’s getting testy. I understand that they want to feature every city that auditioned but — man, it hurts.

And this isn’t even the competition yet. I already don’t really like Kara. Is that bad? Do people like her? I’m not sold on her as a judge. I’m sure she has credentials (though I’m not exactly sure what Simon’s credentials are either) but she drives me up a wall. There was a dude in Boston that got on her nerves and I thought he was the coolest guy there. You know, old what’s his name? With the emo glasses and all the waiting? Nah, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, so I’m going to have to stick around with these judges for the entirety of the season, which, from my outside experience, lasts about forever. Kara annoys me. Randy kind of annoys me. Simon is fine. Whatever. I haven’t liked Victoria Beckham since she went on The Daily Show with Baby Spice and told John Stewart he wasn’t funny (you know, shortly before she turned into an alien) but she’s just a guest judge. What I’m really waiting for is the main event: NPH.

So. Am I a better person for not watching American Idol before? My reason for not watching was because I didn’t cotton to the idea of choosing an Idol and screaming and buying into it. I also, generally, hate the music. But I think what the producers do, especially in the beginning stages, before the actual competition, is focus more on the American part of the title. They attempt a cross-section of middle-America. Is it exploitative? Maybe. They’ll probably say these cats set themselves up. I’m not so sure. But maybe I’ll start to understand why this show garners so many fans for people that really haven’t proven anything except they have decent enough voices to compete on television. Or maybe I’ll never understand. I’ll keep you posted.

UPDATE: Credentials —

• Simon: Music publisher/producer
• Randy: Producer/A&R
• Kara: Songwriter
• Victoria: Posh Spice