American Idol: Where Underdogs Get a Cape

January 15, 2010

My husband and I had our first American Idol premiere party on Tuesday, January 12 at our home. We invited faithful AI watchers and some who had never watched the show. It was a great excuse to forget about long Minnesota winters and to get together mid-week. As Sue Reid, one of the attendees said, “I love doing this. It feels like we’re getting away with playing in the middle of the week.”

Sue and I have talked about forming a fantasy football-type competition where we pick our choices for the top 12 and then the winner. Might need to have my accountant husband work up that chart.

I’ve watched AI for five years now and have tossed around what makes the show a No. 1 hit. I think there are a couple of factors involved. Here’s my two-cents’ worth.

1. Simon Cowell. He conjures up thoughts of the lyrics to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.” He’s mean, he doesn’t emote and we beg for more because of his repartee. This week a contestant told the judges that he wanted to be like an eagle’s wing and make people soar when they listened to his music. Simon said to the fellow that his singing voice sounded “more like an eagle” than making people feel like they would soar.
2. Superman had kryptonite, but most contestants on American Idol have no way to make a demo and get heard by a record company. American Idol changed that. If you can get to an audition, you will be heard. I love that underdogs have the opportunity to get a cape.
3. American Idol unites us. We who watch are our own community. When we watch AI, all politics, social status and religions are put aside. We’re here on our couches ready to champion on, with our cell phone hands held high, ready to vote our favorite contestant through to the next week. The show doesn’t divide us, doesn’t do harm to our country. No one wins because his party does a better job of persuading. There are no political protests. Contestants cannot buy their way in. The show is free and clear of the things we carry with us too much of the time. For an hour or two each week we escape from our realities and get “to play.”

 Fellow watchers, here’s to community, here’s to Mr. Bad Romance. Let the chase for the cape begin.