Picture it. 2002. Hollywood. Me a lithe 32-year-old standing in front of the Nokia Theater towering above the 12-year-olds in front of me all clamoring for a glimpse of Paul, Simon, Kelly, and even Justin Guarini (simply to see him in person to prove he WAS NOT Sideshow Bob). Anyway, how I got there and why I coincidentally was in LA the night of American Idol’s first season finale is for another time. But the point is, it was magical enough for me to still remember every piece of confetti that fell from the rafters that night. And as the years have gone by, my interests have gone up (Allen vs. Lambert, Daughtry) and down (the lost Fantasia season, OY), but I’ve hung In there for love or money. It’s my baby. I watch Idol like straights watch football: with fantasy teams and in my underpants. So imagine how crushed I was when this season was so below expectations I found myself actually reading a book vs. watching the whole show!
With Simon phoning it in for the season knowing he’s about to launch X-Factor here in the US, the show is rudderless and I’m not entirely convinced it’s not on purpose. So what can save my baby? First, let’s start from scratch on the judges. Without Simon, do we really care about the other three? Also, the band. They’ve always sounded about as original as a Branson stage band. Think new; think under 40. But the worst is the themes. If A.N.T.M. and Project Runway and conjure up mildly original challenges, don’t you think the bigger names in the industry can do better than eight years of “Movie Songs” and Lennon/McCartney songbook?
So I think what I want is a drastically different, re-thought Idol. Oh wait, it’s called X-Factor. See you in the fall, Simon!
You can follow Moose at www.writingaboutmusic.com.