‘American Idol’: Too much is never enough

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It began with a blood-curdling scream; a scream so piercing and primal that it could mean only one thing. An adolescent girl was just minutes away from seeingDavid Archuleta in the flesh.

Last night was my first time attending an ‘American Idol’ taping, and during the long walk from my car to the theater, hordes of ‘Idol’ fans trekked along with me. They wailed across the parking lot, bellowed through the metal detector, and yelped into the holding area.

‘That’s him!’ Whispered a teenage girl behind me while we waited for the doors to open. ‘I’m so mad they took my phone,’ whined her gal pal, desperate to snap a photo of the celebrity in question. I turned to find ‘him,’ Carly Smithson’s husband, sitting away from the crowd. His tattoos stretched from ear to ear, making it impossible for him to hide. Fallen Idol Luke Menard, however, blended in just fine. He was also within shrieking distance of the women, but they didn’t seem to notice.

‘Oh. My. God,’ intoned one Uggs-clad Idol junkie as we awaited our grand entrance into the Idoldome. ‘Ohmylordohmylordohmylord,’ exclaimed her dutiful doppelganger.

Finally, the line moved inside, and the set was revealed. ‘It’s smaller than I thought,’ remarked Uggs-girl, perplexed. ‘They do a good job making it look big,’ nodded her sidekick. I couldn’t help but agree. There was something decidedly anticlimactic about entering the ‘Idol’ studio for the first time. Not only did the set appear dinky in person, but the seating area was pretty primitive too. I’m not sure what I expected, but the mismatched chairs definitely came as a surprise; some had even been mended with duct tape.

Once the show began, however, so did the magic. The lights dimmed, and a mix of blaring music, smoke machines and screaming graphics transformed the simple space into a feast for the senses. The judges emerged, and Simon Cowell looked almost like a caricature of himself, with his puffed-out chest, omnipresent smirk, and defiant sexiness.

Even during the less-than-stellar performances, a sense of wonder permeated the studio. ‘Pitchy’ or not, there was something incredibly powerful about the gently swaying background singers and twinkling stars that framed Syesha Mercado during her performance of ‘I Believe.’

The greatest surprise of the evening came from Kristy Lee Cook, a contestant who had previously approached the competition with an apathy bordering on resignation. Tonight, however, something changed. In her glittery gold tank, crisp white pants and cascading blonde curls, even Simon had to admit that Kristy looked like a star. During her rendition of Martina McBride’s ‘Anyway,’ Kristy was commanding and self-aware. Plus, the lyrics couldn’t have been more apropos: ‘You can pour your soul out singing a song you believe in that tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang. Sing it anyway.’

Between segments, a man named Cory took to the stage, tasked with keeping the audience excited. During one break, he pointed out celebrities like Taylor Swift and Sinbad in the audience (and revealed that Sinbad had a soft spot for Syesha). During another break, Cory recruited audience members to gyrate on stage in a manner that Simon probably would have deemed ‘grotesque.’ Nonetheless, Cory’s antics managed to delight the audience.

And within that ever-rowdy audience, each ‘Idol’ hopeful had their share of fans. One Idol, however, elicited worship beyond compare. Yes, David Archuleta inspired such feverish loyalty from his fans that the mere mention of his name could have started a riot. David’s moving and effortless rendition of ‘Angels’ only confirmed what the audience already knew. This one is different; this one is our man.

The evening coasted on, in a cloud of fog, flashing lights, and snippets of Seacrest (who seemed to be in at least three places at all times). Before I knew it, just one performer -– Brooke White -– remained, and soon enough, she too left the stage. The show was over. The judges retreated, the overhead lights came on, and Cory emerged, telling us when to file out and which way to go. ‘No,’ replied a woman beside me, to nobody in particular. ‘It was too short. I’m not ready to go.’

-- Stephanie Lysaght