Did David Cook Save American Idol? Can he Save us All?
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It started with a big yawn. Another season of American Idol…ugh. A new batch of hopeful crooners, most with way less talent than their mamas assure them they have. Same Randy ‘Dawg’ Jackson, same gushy Paula, same Simon Cruel. Yet another year of cringing at the fearless, tone-deaf masses, and shrinking at the shameless exploitation of the ‘William Hung’s of the world. But as the many are winnowed down to the few, we watch. Not because we adore karaoke, or because we secretly enjoy salivating over how badly, one by one, the losers crash and burn. Each week we seek, with earnest anticipation, some hint of hope. Mired in a morass of mediocre, we long for a fleeting glimpse of originality. We crave that spark of creativity and imagination that has long since faded in the haze of modern-day megalomania.
American Idol has rocked the formula for rolling out pop stars. It ignites the hopes and dreams of every kid who ever played air guitar in front of the mirror, or went for the high note in the shower. Capitalizing on contemporary techo connectivity, Idol makes stardom accessible to the likes of you, me and them – the would-be wannabes. Students, bank tellers, single moms and dads, and yes, bartenders – they all line up for the chance of a lifetime. By mid-season you know their names and faces. And you want them to do well. But when you boil it down, it’s a sour pill to swallow. The world’s biggest talent competition is a fraud. Even as it plucks the few exceptional singers from the pack, the Idol process primps and polishes. It sculpts and molds, until in the end, a new household name packaged by some industry guru starmaker churns out generic songs written by well-compensated unknown songwriters. read more »
