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American Idol
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“Let’s face it. None of us is going to meet
Paula,” surmises the voice of reason, nameless in the crowd
of thousands.
A quick glance around the Cow Palace Concert Arena on the outskirts
of San Francisco indicates that little, yet pertinent nugget of
information has yet to register with the thousands of
“American Idol” hopefuls anxiously imagining just such
a meeting. Apparently, reason need not apply when one seeks a
position as a “Top Ten” finalist on one of
America’s premiere reality T.V. shows.
“I’m me. They haven’t seen someone like me
before,” said 19-year-old Jai Lorenz of why his chances are
better than most to be one of the ten. Lorenz, like many at the
Palace, has traveled a long time to get here and has spent even
longer convincing himself he isn’t crazy for making the trip.
No different than a line of lottery ticket buyers anxiously
spilling details to the convenience store clerk of what
they’ll do with their millions, many of those assembled in
the arena this morning had traversed miles in their daydreams in
order to justify their current milieu.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life is
my music,” said 27-year-old Nadine Connelly from Oakland,
Calif. Unfortunately for Connelly, she’s not alone. Upwards
of 5,000 people in the building feel pretty much the same way. If
they flaunt what they’ve got just right, they may get a
chance to pursue a career in pop music. With that in mind, many
here seem willing to flaunt it all for this, the most convenient of
recording contracts packaged with a built-in fan base to boot.
In the early morning hours before the official auditions get under
way the unofficial auditions are in full swing. Speakers overhead
blast the latest and greatest pop anthems into the eager ears of
the crowd. The music incites riotous dance-offs in most every
section of the bleachers as the Idol production staff looks on from
the arena floor. Shirts twist around heads like helicopters. Video
cameras capture frame after frame of the gyrating dancers as they
coalesce into faceless bumping and grinding pop music brigades in
the isles of the arena. Those still seated tilt their heads back to
watch the merriment unfolding before them as they mull over fusing
with the fracas. It’s 7:30 a.m. and the Cow Palace is
jumpin’, jumpin’.
So ladies leave your man at home, the producer is listening and the
cameras are on. Beginning at 6:00 a.m. the previous day, the Cow
Palace doors had opened for registration to audition for season
four of “American Idol”. Thousands of fans crazy in
love with Idol waited anxiously in line for a chance to touch the
sky by being the next chosen one.
The previous three seasons of Idol have seen the viewership soar
into the millions. Families, friends and fans alike gather around
the living room television to take in this generation’s
answer to Ed Sullivan and American Bandstand. By season three, the
stakes and sales have risen to multi-platinum levels as winners and
losers send albums into the pop music stratosphere. With money and
publicity rolling in for Fox Network, show producers have no choice
but to promise season four will knock you out. Of course, they
do.
“We are without question going to have the best top ten
we’ve ever had,” declares one Idol executive producer
to the hapless hopefuls. This, of course, brings reactions of
elation and fear-elation because anyone here might be a part of
that elite group of ten – fear because, well, eh-hem, chances
are . . . But, then again, a cleared throat will help a singer
sound all the better, right?
So, with a smile on my face and a song in my heart, I too will get
crunk with the Idol phenomenon. Outside the Palace, I flash two
forms of identification and hold out my right arm. Just as she has
already done 90,000 times in the past few weeks, an Idol staff
member fastens a pink paper “American Idol” bracelet
around my wrist as if to seal the deal. She then motions me inside
the facility.
Immediately in front of me swells a crowd of a few hundred hopefuls
bunching together around a karaoke booth. Impatiently scrutinizing
each intonation from a girl “interpreting” a verse of
Celine Dion’s titanic pop anthem “My Heart Will Go
On,” crowd members near and far are alternately shunning the
performance and crooning along, arms outstretched in an
unmistakable display of what could only be raw artistic
passion.
Some of these hopefuls had rolled out to the Palace from such
far-flung locales as Florida and Idaho to audition for the program
and many opted to stay overnight in the arena to avoid the
expensive Bay Area hotel costs. Sleeping bags, make-up bags and
goodie bags litter the arena corridors as water bottles tip into
the air at a furious pace. Everywhere the Palace populace is
preparing and positioning for their time to fly.
For some, the waiting is the hardest part. Nestled between a hot
dog stand and the passageways leading to the arena seats, the troop
of overnighters engages in enthusiastic
tête-à-tête centered on strategies designed to
catch the eye of the Idol producers. All present evaluate their
competitors as they idle away the hours.
“They’re not ready,” said 27-year-old Michale
Gerick of most of the people he had seen and heard in the Palace.
Gerick says he finds little to be threatened by as he monitors the
hopefuls around him.
“Yeah, it’s not just the vocals, it’s the whole
package,” said 24-year old Derek Minor of people he had heard
singing. Both Gerick and Minor made the 14-hour trip from Seattle
to audition. Both would have to wait another 10 hours to
audition.
After registration commenced early the first day, contestants were
allowed to come and go from the arena at will. At 8 a.m. this
morning, the arena doors are shut, registration ceases, the tension
rises, and the auditions begin. The whole of the crowd is ready to
get it started in here.
So will I make it to Simon? Tune in next week…
Mary Grace Lucas
The Arbiter
