Idolize me damn it

I’ve never actually watched an episode of Canadian Idol and spent most of the episode of the one American Idol episode I was forced to watch rocking back an forth and cringing over someone’s rendition of Summertime. Sidebar: I may never recover from that massacre of Gershwin. What I’m getting at here is that I would probably seem to many, an unlikely person to audition for Canadian Idol but I am a girl of many contradictions.

I did audition for Canadian Idol last Friday. Let it be understood here and now that I do not sing. Not even a little. I can sometimes manage a passable rendition of Happy Birthday if I really try but mostly it comes out sounding like a mating call. My purpose in auditioning was not about getting my 15 or 1500 minutes of fame but was rather twofold a/ observe reality TV from the inside and hopefully walk away with some kind of new academic perspective on it and b/ amuse myself with the sheer stupidity of it all. I am happy to state that both goals were fulfilled.

I was not alone in this quest. No indeed. The initial plot was cooked up whilst some friends and I were at school on a Saturday. Strange things happen to your brain when you’re at school on a Saturday. We thought it would be an interesting exercise to go to the auditions and converse with the idol hopefuls. Originally there were supposed to be four but in the end, only Pat and I stuck it out for the long haul.

And a long haul it was. I met Pat at Lougheed right after work at 9:30, already tired and cranky from the long day and mere 1.5 hours of sleep I got the night before. We met Amanda at Brentwood and the three of us proceeded to Idol-ville. We arrived at the Plaza of Nations around 10:30 and walked through a complicated labyrinth designed to maintain some kind of order. We reached the end of the line and sat down, taking in the sight of all the really prepared people around us. There were many sleeping bags as expected but also chairs, cots and even a tent. The garment bag hanging off the fence was also amusing. It did look like a few planned on moving in. Clearly we were amateurs at this. A while later we all had to move up to make more room in the line. It was kind of fun to watch the people backing up their week’s worth of supplies. We then assumed our spot for the remainder of the evening.

Amanda left around midnight and returned with blankets. Definitely a necessity. Attempting to sleep on the cold, hard floor is rendered even more difficult when you’re freezing. With blankets we were able to sort of sleep, despite the incredibly irritating and horrible renditions of Lean on me tormenting us. I never want to hear that song again. At least there was no kumbaya. For that we should be grateful.

Morning came unpleasantly early with the most annoying sound check ever. Someone really needed to tell this guy that there are numbers before and after two. Perhaps he thought he was being entertaining. He wasn’t. Of course, there is little that could be called entertaining about being awake, outside in the cold at 6:30 am after having slept on the ground. This includes awful Gwen Stefani covers by former idol rejects. I almost felt bad for the two of them because it was so blatantly obvious that no one cared, well almost no one. Oh, and Ben Mulroney, no one cares about you either. After a seemingly endless amount of time this pathetic excuse for a ‘concert’ and I use the term very loosely was over and we began to make our way inside. This bore an eerie resemblance to cattle being led to slaughter, complete with yellow tags. Once inside we lined up to receive our contestant numbers and hand in our release forms (exploitation throughout the universe anyone?) Once we had been numbered it was to the gym where the waiting would take place.

Once everyone had been successfully squished like sardines into this gym, which was still a gym despite the black and silver astro turf they’d laid down, they explained the rules. They were a little too excited about the yellow and blue and gold slips if you ask me. And then finally the auditions began.

The waiting was entertaining, mostly because so many people there were clearly convinced that they were the next big thing. It was sad really how many people couldn’t sing to save their lives and yes, I was among them but hey at least I know I can’t sing. So after a few hours of waiting, it was audition time. I was with four other girls, all four of whom had tried out 3 times before and took it super seriously. As we sat outside the audition room I was asked why I wasn’t nervous so I honestly replied that I’d already gotten what I wanted out of the experience. After more waiting we went inside where we each took our turn standing on an X and singing our chosen songs. The deal was that you sang your first song and if they wanted to hear more they’d ask you to sing the second. Now, I really didn’t prepare a second song, or even a first really since I hadn’t really planned on singing so I made sure to stop halfway through the first song. I went in the middle so there were two girls before me and two after, all were really good. At the end he asked three girls to stay, naturally I was not among them. And thank goodness for that, I would have had real doubts about the process if they had. And so I was inducted into a prestigious group of idol rejects. Yay me.

I came away from the experience with one particular observation: the process of audition for at least this particular show and probably others like it, is not merely a step towards a cultural artifact (eg the show), it is a cultural artifact and event in its own right.

The first piece of evidence of this was the pseudo-concert in the morning. I like to think of it as a sort of opening act before the real set began. And as with most opening acts, the crowd was less than enthused and just anxious to get to the part they came for, in this case the audition, which was, regardless of a person’s reasons for going, the whole point.

The second, and perhaps most compelling evidence of Idol Auditions as pop culture event, lies in the fact that there was a merchandise booth. That’s right, in the corner of the gym was a booth selling “Official Canadian Idol Contestant” merchandise. Reject t-shirt anyone? The presence of this booth and their plugging of it, suggests that the producers, organizers etc were all too willing to push the idea of the auditions as cultural event.

The third, and possibly most amusing piece of evidence was the participants/attendees themselves. Within minutes of getting into the gym, we were asked for our autographs, and not in a case of mistaken identity. I was too amused to say no and lets face it, since there’s not a lot of interest in cmns recluses, that’s probably the only time I’ll ever be asked for my autograph. Equally amusing was when we asked for autographs. Now, before you ask yourself why on Earth we would be asking for autographs allow me to explain. The former idol rejects were parading around the gym, acting important. I suppose it’s understandable since it was probably the only venue where there was even a chance that someone gave a shit about them. Naturally, there were autograph seekers and neither seemed eager to question why anyone would want their autograph so Pat decided hey let’s get male idol reject to sign my A Consumer Society Reader textbook from last semester I love McLuhan and, let’s get girl idol reject to sign it I heart Marshall. The confusion on their faces alone made the whole day worth it. After all, the only thing more fun than mocking people is mocking people who don’t realize you are mocking them. There was talk of getting Son of GST to sign it McLuhan Groupie but alas he was no where to be found.

So, my conclusions? It is clear that the spectator as spectacle concept is alive and well and sadly not going anywhere. This is built into the heart of reality television but there was no attempt to hide it here. The producers were well aware that the entire process was in itself a performance and were all too eager to capitalize on (ahem exploit) it. And to all of you who didn’t get a yellow paper, take heart, in a few months time, everyone in that room will be just like you, a reality TV reject.