American Idol, Season 11: Portland Auditions

A fitting song to open last night was Florence and the Machine’s “Dog Days are Over”, even though a song titled “The Salad Days are Over” would’ve been even better. But, the “dog days” are truly over for Idol because the white hot spotlight that it used to suffer isn’t quite as oppressively hot as it once was. American Idol is still the biggest show on TV, but all the talk this season is focused on the fact the ratings are at record lows, comparable to its first season. Still, it’s the biggest show . . . but not as big. Now, Idol is operating in a slightly less scrutinized environment and for my money, it’s better. They aren’t milking their ratings juggernaut by giving us 4-hours of auditions each week (which took its toll on viewers and interest), and we’re not seeing singing disaster after singing disaster to fill time. We like idiots, but we’ve seen what idiots look like, so it’s not as entertaining anymore. I wish they’d show us more actual auditions and Hollywood golden-ticket recipients, but I guess Fox will stick with their less-is-more philosophy on that. Maybe if ratings get even lower this year and Ryan Seacrest leaves next year, Fox will get desperate and start showing more auditions and putting bonus coverage on their website.

We fans can only hope the show eventually sucks that much.

Where was I? Oh . . . yes . . . the Portland auditions.

Brittany Zika was the perfect Portlandian to start the evening because she’s what I imagine Portland to be like. I imagine Portland is full of healthy and pretty people, but “being pretty” is not a commodity in Portland. To “be pretty” in Portland, I imagine, means you’re putting on a show, and that’s frowned upon.  Even Ryan was wearing a subdued sweater-vest as if it was the only thing he was allowed to wear that could be approved by the Portland Visitor’s Bureau review board. Ryan was like, “I’m L.A., but I know in Portland, nobody wants to see L.A.-people.” Though, even on Ryan’s least glammy day, he’s still far too flashy for Portland.  But Brittany, in almost any other city in the U.S., might be inclined to be a diva. The Brittany we met had oversized black horn-rimmed glasses, and ridiculous looking fedora that screamed “I’m wearing this ironically and NOT as a fashion statement”, and she was rockin’ some 80s era suspenders that said, “I’m actually using these suspenders to hold up my pants, and not to look like an 80s pop-star.” In New York or Chicago, this girl is a well-calculated “hipster” . . . but in Portland, she’s just an odd gal trying to act odd in a city full of odd people and she just accidentally looks like a hipster. My point? With her outward persona, she should’ve sucked, but when she opened her mouth, her voice was great, and when she took offer her hat and glasses, there was a very pretty girl in there.

Sooooooo Portland. For the record, I’ve never been to Portland, but I watch Portlandia and I have a pretty good feeling for what Portland must be like . . . and I’ll admit . . . I’m in love with the idea of that city.

Ben from Philadelphia had a runny nose. Gross. He sang Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” which was worse. I’d actually pay to see him blow his nose again over hearing him sing. He insisted his audition was hampered by his head cold.

Jermaine Jones, all 6-foot-8 ½ inches of him (and don’t take away that half-inch), sang a very unique version of a Luther Vandross, and it was a really nice moment. This guy sings for his Momma and her family, and had no pretentiousness, no ego, and I don’t think if he had been rejected it would’ve changed his life or persona at all . . . so it was just nice to see our judges recognize his nervousness and give him a shot, anyway – and they ignored his sweating. Lots of sweating. He (and his Momma) seem genuine, but given his simple nature, I don’t think he’s ready for L.A. and Hollywood week. They’re going to force him to learn and sing something by John Mayer . . . poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.

Day 2 began with J-Lo missing her black tights. Fox didn’t spend much time on it, but they sorta hinted that once of the shows producers had to drop everything and go buy J-Lo tights, or truly . . . the day would’ve been cancelled. Fox can only show us so much of J-Lo’s diva behavior, as I’m sure it’s in the contract, but every now and then they let a little bit of her off-camera persona slip onto TV. It’s almost like they’re passing us a secret note that says, “help us . . . stop watching so we can be cancelled and be free of this horrible woman.”

Or, she’s not as bad as the tabloids have made her out to be. Who knows, but I like to believe nasty rumors over what I see with my own eyes.

Britnee Kellog has two kids from a former husband and he was a basketball player who chased other women and now here’s Britnee, chasing her dream. She actually looks like Britney Spears, but unlike Britney Spears, our Britnee can sing . . . she can saaaang. Daaaang. So she got a golden-ticket and asked, “can a mother of two really do this, J-Lo” and multi-millionaire J-Lo (who I hear doesn’t change diapers or feed her children because she has nannies and handlers doing that) said, “yes, of course you can.”

Britnee, babe. Can we talk? You won’t quite have the luxuries of single-motherhood that J-Lo enjoys. Just accept it’s going to be a rough, painful, conflicted road should you make it past the two-day Hollywood madness and you’ll be isolated and out-of-control while being far away from your kids. And if you ever DO become famous (like, let’s say you win this entire thing), you’ll be on tour, and on talk shows, and recording tracks in a studio for 14 hours a day, and then on your own tour. It’s OK to say you’re doing it for your kids . . . but you’re not. The relentless lifestyle of continuous self-promotion of a pop-star is not ideal for raising kids. Trust me …I’ve read dozens of rock biographies . . . none of them live a life like Ward Cleaver, Mike Brady, or Cliff Huxtable where they work an honest 9 to 5 job and then chillax at home in the evenings while watching the nightly news and reading stories to their kids at bedtime.

Wow . . . that sounded really mean and nasty. Sorry. I really do wish her the best and life of balance, but I don’t see how it can happen if this is the career path she’s choosing.

Sam Gershman’s dad’s name was Ira.  Sam Gershman is Jewish. Hey . . . she felt the need to point it out. Maybe in Portland that’s exotic and strange so she wanted to let the world know. The judges are from the entertainment world, Sam. Outside of Portland, that’s really not so strange and exotic – if that’s what you were implying. I’m not sure.

David Weed was a rocker from Idaho with a weak grasp on reality. He sang “Tom Sawyer” by Rush and actually did a pretty good job at impersonating Geddy Lee, though Randy said, “the difference is, Geddy Lee can actually sing.” Um, isn’t that the inside joke about Rush? That Geddy Lee can’t sing and it’s ironic that his whiny voice is the voice of one of the biggest and most dynamic sounding rock bands of all time? Nobody has ever asked Geddy Lee to perform on a duets CD, is what I’m sayin’.

Ben Harrison and his baby face, which my wife pointed out was a Benny Hill face, seemed the perfect kinda crazy. They kept playing “Baby Face” but I wish they would’ve played the Benny Hill theme song. Ya know, I want to make fun of this guy a little more, but like Idol, I’m also sorta tired of all the making-fun-of and pointing-and-laughing.

Queue a hard luck story. Who’s left? Oh, how about Romeo Diahn, a refugee from Liberia. It’s always a nice reminder to see and hear immigrants who came here because American is still the great land of opportunity, freedom, and safety. Bring us your poor and hungry, as Lady Liberty says to all who see her. We Americans fight a lot amongst ourselves, but at the end of the day, we live in a great society. Romeo Diahn knows this. And American Idol, which I’ve long maintained exemplifies our philosophy that anyone can be anything if they just put their minds to it, is nothing more than the televised American story – even regular people can become rich and famous.

Then, like the rest of society, we have a bunch of people who love it, others who are critics, and then the rest of everyone who don’t even watch the show and have better things to do with their lives.

Romeo gave us a few ho-hum bars of some Bob Marley song and he, like the giant dude from earlier, will get eaten alive when Idol moves from a friendly small room with nice judges, to a large theater with people at war with each other battling to portray a perfect “look” and image while singing on key, and catching the judge’s eyes. That’s another part of being American . . . the “posing” that many of us do. Romeo won’t have a clue what that looks like, smells like, sounds like, or how it all works. Well …still …it’s a nice story.

“Refugee camp …wow, I don’t know man.”  –Randy Jackson on the horrors of growing up in war torn Africa

Naomi Gilles sang Aerosmith’s “Cryin’” and her voice had a real Pat Benetar vibe – and a little bit of a Pat Benetar look about her. I’ll promptly forget her, but maybe she’ll shine in Hollywood.

Idol teaches me something every year – that everyone has a story. Some are good, some are bad, and some are just plain crazy. But it’s their story and they all show us a little bit of themselves, good or bad, because they are proud of their story. A guy who says, “everyone at work loves my singing” is obviously not quite right in the head, and if you asked his co-workers they’ll either say he’s bat-shit insane, or just a really nice guy and they didn’t feel the need to tell him he sucks or, please, stop singing. I think Idol has been mean to some of these people over the years, but this year, even the saddest of auditionees aren’t being mocked and humiliated. They got their shot and their moment on TV and I feel like we’re sending them away with a little dignity and maybe, still, some hope.

Which leads me to our last story of the night. Jessica Phillips is caring for her boyfriend who is a recovering stroke victim. He was way too young to have a stroke (not that I’m saying there’s a proper age for someone to have a stroke, but 30 and younger is certainly inside of an age range that seems too young for a stroke). It’s sad because you see a young couple with the hopes and dreams all young couples share (get married, travel, have kids, go to Disney World, etc) and their dream got derailed before it even began. Luckily Jessica has a real, pretty, classic R&B sound and a big bright smile, and her goodness shines through her eyes. High hopes for her as she moves onto Hollywood.

45 tickets were handed out last night on Portland.

Tonight we’ll do it all again and inch a little closer to Hollywood week. Can’t wait. Thanks again for reading every week and we’ll see you tomorrow.

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