An American Idol Odyssey Part 5
0 Comments Published by ginny on Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 3:23 AM.
The oh-so-precious pink sheet they'd given me on Wednesday told me that the second round of auditions started at 8 a.m. on Thursday morning, and to be prepared to sing two songs and stay all day.
The night before, I'd wisely asked the desk clerk for directions to the building where they were being held and walked the route ahead of time – finding out that they were less than ten minutes (thankfully! No more Atlanta driving!) away.
The auditions were taking place in this huge complex of buildings called, weirdly, the America's Mart. I don't know what these buildings actually are – they seem to be big office buildings/conference centers, but they're named things like "Gift Mart" and "Apparel Mart," even though they don't actually seem to be marting anything. The rooms we were in were just standard conference center stuff. I don't know where all the mart business takes place. Out of sight, maybe. It must be an Atlanta thing.
Anyway, I was prepared. I woke at five in the morning to give myself plenty of time to warm up and dress. (Actually, I had to wash my underwear in the sink – I hadn't in my wildest dreams thought I'd have to stay another day, so I hadn't brought enough!)
My voice was still distressingly rough, but I figured I'd do the best I could. Nothing else to do. I babied it as best I could, drank a little continental-breakfast tea, and headed out.
In line outside the Gift Mart (or was it the Apparel Mart? Or the SUV Mart? I don’t know. Our Mart, anyway), I got seriously un-confident again. Because, oh, man was I surrounded by some good-looking people. In fact, I was surrounded by all really good-looking people!
"He he," I said nervously to my near neighbor in line, a stunning Jada Pinkett look-alike. "Sure are a lot of really pretty people here, huh!"
"Hm," she replied. The mother of the elfin redhead with huge green eyes in front of me smiled pityingly, but said nothing either.
Incidentally, I found this second group to be a lot less friendly than the first group, at the Dome. I guess they were more worried about saving their voices. I did meet a couple of real nice people once I finally got almost up to the audition room (more on them later), but otherwise, all attempts to start a conversation with my near neighbors completely failed. In fact, one seemed actively hostile – when he revealed he was in the Navy, I said "Oh! They'll like that! Look at how well Josh Gracin did! Although, to tell the truth," and here I whispered conspiratorially in order to seem friendly, "I think his personality was more of an asset than his voice. I mean, he just seemed like such a nice guy."
"Well, I'm not a nice guy," he snapped back. "I guess you could say I'm the opposite of Josh Gracin."
And that was that for conversation with Navy-boy.
But anyway. My attempts to relieve my nervousness (and, truthfully, to capture producer attention by seeming friendly, which I'm sure they like) by conversation pretty much failed. So I waited my turn as we filed into the building and sat down in no particular order on a set of about 250-300 chairs. (Later, I heard 360 from someone. But I estimated no more than 300 at the time.)
Now keep in mind, this is at the most 360 people out of eleven thousand. I am tremendously proud simply of this. I was one of the top 360 of eleven thousand people. Incredible.
After a while, some people spoke to us – a head techie, who also seemed to be the morale-booster, and some associate producers. They explained to us that we'd be called in groups of ten, in order of our original auditions, to the front, and then to a waiting area, after which we would go one by one into the audition room to sing for the executive producers.
Before that happened, we were to interview with a couple of associate producers and, if we had anything telegenic to do (like turning our feet backwards or imitating Simon) to do it in front of the cameras. (There were also some news crews there, but I'm not sure they got any good footage. Everyone was being pretty quiet.)
And then, the moment Jessica had been waiting for, anyway – Nigel Lythgoe came out of the double doors at the front of the room. Nigel! Here! He was accompanied by another producer, who turned out to be Ken Warwick. They both spoke to us, and I loved them.
I mean, they were funny. And sweet-ish. And sarcastic. And corny. And, well, everything I like about American Idol. The show has that character because its producers have that character.
They told us that what they wanted to see was our best performances – "Don't, for God's sake, come in there and sing to the floor," Nigel said – but also ourselves. "It's a t.v. show," Ken said, "We want to see people we'd want to watch! And I'll say this – you're certainly the best-looking group we've seen yet!"
They told us how to sing, too: "For some reason, I have to say this in the Southeast," Ken said drolly, "Because a lot of you down here grew up singing in church. And when you were quite small, your pastors and your ministers told you that the louder you sing, the more Jesus loves you. Well, in there, we have a microphone. Please, please, don't break our eardrums! We just want you to sing, not bellow us to death!"
And what to sing: "Now, you've all seen the show," Nigel said "Or at least, you'd better have. And you know what kind of music we sing. We sing cheesy music! We sing old music! We haven't sung anything more recent than, oh, Bryan McKnight, I think. And we do that because we don't want to set any of our kids up in opposition to anyone else out there. We want them to have the opportunity, later on, to establish themselves as original performers. So if you're not prepared to sing ABBA -- and you will have to -- don't come on this show!"
And really, it all made me feel very good. Because, you see, that's exactly how I'd thought of them. They weren't scary, they were just a little cheesy, just the tiniest bit sleazy, but mostly understandable to me. And if they were looking for Brittany Spears, they weren't saying so.
The auditions started. We cheered for each group going into the waiting area (much better cheers than at the Dome – at least they'd selected well for that), and waited our turns. Once again, there was far less warming up than I'd expect – and this time even I wasn't warming up at the level I normally would, because my voice was still in seriously bad shape – not as bad as it had been the night before, but still definitely not at peak levels.
I'd had some conversation with the people I ended up sitting next to – surly Navy Boy and a girl who announced, boredly, "Yeah, I'm a professional performer. I do musical theatre," (Well, good for you, honey) and who seemed very disdainful that at the age of twenty-three I hadn't amounted to as much as she had at the age of twenty-two. (I could almost see her thinking "Oh, great, what a wannabe.") But then, maybe she was just nervous. Though she claimed that she never gets nervous.
But I didn't have much more time to get to converse with them, because, only about five groups in, head crewmember (this is where I really ought to begin remembering the names of all the AI staff, and am terribly ashamed that I can't remember a single one) called 52360 – and that was me. Eeek! This was barely 10:30 in the morning, now. No time to warm up! No time to get psyched! This was it!
Actually, though, it wasn't, because your row of ten had to move two times before you even got into the waiting area, which was nice, because I liked my row of ten much better than the people I'd been sitting beside before. At the head of our row was a boy who I would say looked like Prince, except that right next to me, fourth in line (I was third), was another boy who really looked like Prince.
Anyway, first boy, whose name is something like D'Ashon, was really nice, and was wearing the best outfit: a cowboy hat, a mesh shirt, this crazy long duster thing, and tight, tight black jeans. Plus, he had groovy facial hair. And next to him – thus right next to me – was a nice girl who had come from Ohio to sing…..The Smelly Cat Song from Friends. Obviously, she was just gunning for getting on the bad tape because, she told me, she's desperately in love with Simon Cowell. It takes all types, I guess.
As soon as we'd sat down, they ushered us all over to get interviewed (since none of us had yet). We were supposed to say something interesting about ourselves. Right. I couldn't decide what to say, and finally ended up telling the producer about how I was run over by a llama. I think she liked it – maybe no one had had any animal-trampling stories yet.
Then, I went to the bathroom. (This was only trip number, oh, twelve of the morning so far, to be followed before I auditioned by trips thirteen through eighteen.)
Then, the group two before us went in, and we moved up to the almost-to-the-waiting-area row. Once again, I was the only one moving – and I couldn't stop. Tapping feet, bouncing up and down in my seat, humming. I mean, I don't know how the other people sat still. I sure couldn't.
Head crewmember gave us an inspiring speech then about how "ten people were going into that room, and he wanted ten people to come out with green sheets! He really meant it!" Green sheets were what they gave you if you moved on to the next round. I didn't think there was much chance of me coming out with a green sheet. The best-looking crowd they'd seen, and my voice was shot? Yeah right.
And yet – maybe I still had a chance. Like at the Dome auditions, I saw girl after girl I thought looked way, way, way hot go in….and come out without a green sheet. The ratio was not nearly as low as it had been at the Dome – it couldn't have been, or Simon, Paula and Randy would have had only about two people to audition – but they were still not selecting girls I would look at and think were shoo-ins. About one in five people were coming out with green sheets (the total number who finally did, then, must be somewhere between fifty and a hundred, probably closer to a hundred).
Anyway, I was going for it. I was going to perform, really perform, and, well, that was all I could do. Right?
They moved us into the waiting room. In there, you had to be very quiet, because not only would loudness be heard inside the audition room, but there was also a cameraman right outside the door to the audition room to catch every auditionee as he or she came out, whether with a green sheet or not. They also ushered all the families that had come along in there too – they wanted the family reaction on tape as well as the contestant one. (Actually, they were quite emphatic about this. If your family wouldn't be filmed, you couldn't audition.)
One by one, we moved up the chairs as the contestants before us went into the room, draped rather terribly Poe-ishly in heavy black cloth, and came out. I saw two make it, and about six not. Then D'Ashon went in, and Smelly Cat Song girl was ushered into the area right outside the door (they moved you in immediately on the heels of the person before you), and I was in the first seat.
And then D'Ashon was out – I had just time to see he had a green slip! – and I was in the waiting area, and then I was in!
I heard the girl before me say, apologetically, "Yeah, I think they just wanted me to look bad," and had time to realize she hadn't made it (poor thing. I hope she meets Simon another way), and then I was in the room.
"Hi!" I said. Friendly. Enthusiastic. Cute. Right.
The room was tiny, but draped entirely in heavy black cloths that made it seem even tinier. A few feet from the door was a recording mike and a tape mark for where to stand, and behind that was a desk with the three Executive Producers: Nigel Lythgoe and Ken Warwick, whom I recognized from before, the American Executive Producer whose name I can't remember, and another one who I knew must be Simon Fuller. And behind them, on risers, were a whole host of other people, maybe ten of them, all jammed in.
"Hello," most of them replied – I think Nigel may have said "Hello, darling" – but not (this is telling) Simon Fuller.
"And what are you going to sing for us, darling," Nigel asked.
"'Yesterday' by the Beatles," I told them, brightly. And I did. I got about midway through (all advice said to sing until they stopped you, no matter what, even to the point of making up words if you had to), when Simon Fuller stopped me. They'd all been talking to each other while I sang – a tiny bit disconcerting, yes, but something I'd known auditioners to do in the past, though admittedly not to these levels.
"You can't sing 'Yesterday,'" Fuller told me, "Because we can't clear it. We can't clear anything by the Beatles. So sing something else for us."
"Oh, yes, sure!" I said. I think I may have stupidly added "Oh, of course you can't clear the Beatles" – because if I'd thought of it, it is of course, since Apple never releases anything, but really it was an unnecessary remark.
"So what are you going to sing, then?" Ken asked.
"Um, I can sing you…." And this was the moment of decision. I hadn't chosen which of my three new songs I would sing if asked. And I found myself saying "Heartbreak Hotel." Elvis. Okay. I made the decision to sing Elvis. Actually, it was by far my strongest choice, but at the time it seemed as if I'd spoken before I even thought about it.
"Oh, Heartbreak Hotel! That sounds good!" said Ken. (I love him undyingly.)
And so I sang. And once again, I sang my heart out. I can't remember how I sang or exactly how I moved, because there was nothing but the moment. And I was singing as hard as I possibly could, rough voice and desperate tiredness and all.
Midway through the second verse (my favorite one. About the desk clerk dressed in black), Simon Fuller stopped me again. Not looking up from his paper, he said "Thank you, but we will not be putting you through."
I'd known. I nodded, assuming my "well, I tried" face, beginning to think of what I would say in the exit interview. (What else is there to say that hasn't been said? 'I tried my best.' 'Of course I'm disappointed, but I'm proud to get this far.' 'Etc.').
And then, Ken Warwick turned to Simon Fuller and said "Well, I don't know what you're talking about – I thought that was a terrific audition!"
And then Nigel Lythgoe turned as well and said "Yeah, I thought it was great!"
Have I mentioned that I love them undyingly? And unendingly? And with all my heart?
And Simon Fuller made a rueful face and said "All right, all right, it's a democracy, I'm being over-ruled, I'm over-ruled, you're through."
And I squealed "Oh, thank you! I really hope I can impress you better next time! Thank you! Thank you!" I ran out of the room to the exit interview ("I'm excited! I'm really excited!"), and then to the end of the hall, where you went if you made it through.
There a really charming associate producer (who I think is Australian), interviewed me pretty extensively. It turned out he'd been to Richmond with the AI tour that I saw. I think he liked me. I liked him.
And then I was out. They told me to come back on September 1st for Simon et. al., that they'd e-mail me a song list from which I must choose one song, and, well, that was that.
I'd made it. I'D MADE IT THROUGH TO THE THIRD ROUND OF AUDITIONS!
Unthinkable! Impossible! Inconceivable! And so, so, so wonderful.
And so, I drove home. I've been wearing my American Idol Auditions shirt (which I bought on the Tuesday – clever of them to sell it, eh? But nice, too. I like having something to take home) everywhere, and when people ask me about it, I say "Now you have to vote for me if you see me on t.v.!"
And, of course, I've been worried out of my mind. See, that whole Simon-Fuller-hated-it-but Nigel-and-Ken-loved-it thing has me worried. What if it was an act? What if it was an act calculated to deceive me into singing badly? Or into feeling invulnerable so that I sing badly? I don't think I'm bad. I've never been bad – but they are very Clever Editors, are the American Idol people. What if they heard something in my voice that could easily be edited to sound much worse than I do when you hear all of me? It could happen.
But then I go back to my associate producer – he seemed to genuinely like me. And to how bright and cheerful I was, and how hard I performed – surely they didn't put me through for the bad tape. They must have liked my stage persona, right?
Oh, I don't know! And of course I'm also still worried about my healing voice – or rather, worried that it isn't healing, or isn't healing well enough. I’m doing all I can, though.
And meanwhile, I have finally finished this gargantuan recap. And I didn't even describe all the details! (Aren't you glad I didn't?). So here it is. My American Idol Odyssey. Really, this has got to be one of the most exciting things I've ever done in my life. I'm so glad I did – even if I get on the bad tape. (But oh, I'm going to try not to.) Because, dude, I did it. I auditioned for American Idol.
Labels: american idol, celebrity, trips, tv
0 Responses to “An American Idol Odyssey Part 5”
Post a Comment