Yeah. I saw it. Just like twenty million other pathetic or
apathetic viewers out there, I saw the American Idol finale.
I didn’t want to, but it’s hard. As I tried to see
how fast I could channel flip before my hand cramped, I was just
sucked into American Idol.
How can I resist seeing people humiliate themselves in front of
people like Simon Cowell? Who else lets them have it POW right in
the kisser? I guess it’s just the sadist in me, but at least
I’m not low enough to say that other people watch it for the
same reasons too … oops I just did it (again).
I am amazed that American Idol was not the flop that it should
have been. Even worse, I’m shocked that the show made its
more cynical viewers (like me) think otherwise. I’m imagining
what could be running through the average couch potatoes’
mind as they ponder in bewilderment:
“Mhhmm … what American Idol? (Grunt grunt.) Not reality
TV show really. (Scratch.) No Playboy in title … mmhhh … more
potato chips.”
These same sentiments have made me curious ““ nay intrigued
““ with how a show like American Idols has been able to keep
even grumpy, snobby and flaccid couch potatoes like me watching.
But, when it came down to it, just like a calculus equation, all
the variables were in place. Let talent X be divided by
cotton-candy image Y, and multiply by old-school pop music Z. If
squared to the 10th for each idol, the dimensions on American
Idols’ humongousness can either hurt a statistician’s
head or make a music exec cry.
As I sat there watching all ten contestants belting it out, I
realized how, as an entity, they were a culmination of pop music
history on TV. They were just waiting to explode into an American
Bandstand/Soul Train freak out as well as individual singing
contracts.
They had forced pop music television into a new plateau of
vapidness, much further than the Spice Girls or Debbie Gibson had
taken us. All the music and TV execs were probably listening and
taking notes. They probably saw the American consciousness change
before their eyes and what has sifted to the surface are American
Idols.
America’s current mood is indeed shying away from last
year’s dirty pop; as a sign, this year’s MTV Video
Music Awards took the cue and hid under their more alternative rock
roots.
Possibly, the memory of Sept. 11th and its one year anniversary
has sobered our love for irreverent pop music television into
nostalgia, not just for the good ol’ days but also to past
values. We know with one look at Kelly Clarkson (who is pretty in a
Marie Osmond sort of way) that she’s no slinky, thong-loving
Christina Aguilera. And a wave of Justin Guarini’s Shirley
Temple curls and cherubic grin is a far lusty cry from the other
Justin (Timberlakes’) swiveling hips and perky pecs.
American Idol is synthetically sweeter than all the pop-candy
music we’ve seen in VH1’s rotation. It will probably
get even more corporate as TV execs ready a sequel for next
year.
Though it’s refreshing to see girls on stage who are a
realistic reflection of femininity and who can sing, I admit I feel
like a dupe for applauding something that seems just as terrible.
American Idol’s sugar-pie appeal lulls everyone to a sense of
morality and goodness. It could end up constricting pop music
television’s breadth of luridness and open a road to
semi-censorship.
However, I suspect my worries are for naught and that life will
continue on. We will just have to deal with a lot more Star Search
knock-off shows popping up. American Idol just signaled a point in
time. TV’s contribution to pop music has evolved into
something still a little emptier.