They said I wasn’t very musical.
They said nobody would buy my record.
They said I “don’t got it.”
They laughed at me.
So it’s a no. I didn’t get the gold ticket. I won’t be going to Toronto. I won’t be quitting my day job. My dream has been crushed.
This was my experience auditioning for Canadian Idol in Edmonton yesterday, in front of CTV’s cameras and the celebrity judging panel, Zack Werner, Jake Gold, Sass Jordan and Farley Flex. No journalist has ever been allowed to do this before.
Saturday was the first day of an 11-week audition tour across Canada. The best – the good and the bad – will be seen on the fourth season of the show starting in June.
I’ve hammered the crap out of Canadian Idol for three years and have been told numerous times, “You think you’re so smart – why don’t you try it, Mr. Big Shot?” So I did. Being too old to enter by the additional age of at least one contestant, I still wanted to simulate the experience that these starry-eyed singers go through. Like they say, before you criticize someone you should walk a mile in their shoes – and the walk to the Canadian Idol audition room sure feels like a mile.
I’ve recently taken a Christian viewpoint on the whole Canadian Idol thing: Hate the sin, love the sinner. I consider the music that comes out of these shows like an infection on popular music. The Sony-BMG conglomerate that owns it all forces this mass-produced mediocrity down the public’s throat, even to the point of appearing to fix the major awards shows. Two album-of-the-year Juno nominations for Canadian Idol albums? Two Grammys for Kelly Clarkson? Give me a frickin’ break.
That said, I’ve never met a Canadian Idol I didn’t like. To a man and woman, they come across like nice, normal, inexperienced young people largely unspoiled by celebrity. They don’t know any better. They do what they’re told, sing what they’re told to sing. Wouldn’t you? It’s fun. They’re just along for the ride – and what a ride it is. What must it feel like to be in that audition room singing solo, facing the cameras, the bright lights, the celebrity judges and their withering comments?
Short answer: It’s terrifying and exhilarating.
I have nothing to lose here, of course. These kids are the ones putting their talent on the line, taking real risks, betting everything and giving their all for one big chance to fulfil their dreams. All I wanted to do was get a story out of it. I know I can’t feel the same level of anxiety as a real contestant, though perhaps that’s mitigated by the fact that the judges seem to know all the mean things I’ve written about Canadian Idol.
It’s payback time.
I decide to sing That’s Amore, the silly Italian love song made famous in 1953 by Dean Martin. I picked it because it’s the first tune that popped into my head, and I think it’s important to go with one’s instincts here.
The real fear comes not in the singing part, but in the moments leading up to it. As I’m issued my contestant number – 10021 – I’m shaking, my palms are sweaty, my throat is dry and I’m not sure I’ll be able to remember the words even though I practised That’s Amore about 100 times. (Memorization is 90% of the battle, I think.) A production assistant says I should try to relax, be myself and have fun. When I’m told I’m next, my heart leaps into my throat.
Waiting by the door to the judge’s chamber, I have to stand aside as a green-haired young woman comes out. She didn’t get the gold ticket. As the camera rolls and Ben Mulroney pours on the smarm, she holds back tears as she recalls the mean things that were said to her. I start to hyperventilate.
Then it’s my turn. I walk into a room filled with cameras and various television equipment, follow the arrows and stand on the mark before the brightly lit panel. After a shaky exchange of pleasantries with the judges, I am bid to begin.
It’s strange: Once I start to sing, the fear dissipates and the song takes over. You really just have to go for it at this point. I take a deep breath and bellow the line that Deano made famous half a century ago: “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!”
The judges begin to giggle – not a good sign.
“Wrong note, dude,” says Zack at one point.
Undaunted, I go on. I get through the difficult line, “hearts will play tippi-tippi-tay, tippi-tippi-tay like a gay tarantella,” noting in passing that “gay” meant something else in 1953, but then I hit another wrong note.
Zack smirks, “You really lost it there.”
Sass cuts him off, “Let him finish.”
Jake adds, “Go ahead, bring it home.”
I do, with the big note at the end. The judges sing along – also not a good sign. Zack changes the last line to “That’s so boring!”
I feel a great sense of relief when it’s over.
Now comes the critique.
Jake surprises me, “It was definitely more entertaining than the first four people we saw this morning.”
Sass adds, “It’s on tone, eh?”
They like me, they really like me! Then come the barbs.
Farley: “It didn’t seem very musical to me.”
Jake: “In terms of professional singing, if you heard yourself on the tape, I’d like to see what you wrote about yourself.”
Now wouldn’t that be fitting karma for all the mean things I’ve written about Canadian Idol? Here it is: I sucked, but I tried.
Then comes Zack, the nearest equivalent to American Idol star judge Simon Cowell that Canada can produce – which is to say he’s a lot nicer, but still rather blunt. I brace myself.
He says, “Here’s what I think: If you made the top 10, over the course of the season, two-three million people get to watch you sing. If we had you on TV 10 weeks in a row and then we put out your record, no one would buy it.”
Jake leaps to my defence, “I was entertained. He was into the song.”
Sass: “And I like that song.”
Zack, to Jake: “It was like watching you sing.”
Jake: “Exactly! I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
Zack: “Nobody’s going to buy your record, either.”
Jake: “It was like when the three of us auditioned for Sass.”
“And I didn’t buy any of your goddamned records,” laughs Sass, the only professional singer of the Canadian Idol judges.
Zack, back to me: “You just don’t got it, man.”
Sass: “But it was valiant effort, and highly unpredictable given the type of demeanour you have when you walk in a room. You wouldn’t think that you’d come out with that huge voice, that honker! You’re a honker, baby, but I liked it!”
Jake: “He could sing at weddings for his immediate family.”
Farley: “At least you sing in your natural voice. We have people coming in that sound like someone else. I’ve got to say in all honesty I’ve never hear anyone sound like that.”
I’m not sure what to make of that comment.
Then, “Thanks for coming! Bye!”
And just like that, it’s over. No gold ticket, but a priceless experience. I feel privileged to have shared a moment with the people who – for good or ill – have the power to shape the next year of popular music in Canada, to have lived through a little piece of what all Canadian Idols go through. CTV taped my audition and said it will only be used for “blackmail purposes.”
Audition taping continues today and tomorrow at a secret location in Edmonton. Good luck, kids.
I now share your pain.
