"Ms. Jones!", a brisk polo-shirted girl with blue streaked hair, a headset clamped in her ear with a mouthpiece protruding inches from her pierced upper lip, a flying lanyard around her neck that proclaims her to be a 'Staffer-'Best Singer in the USA Competition-a division of Super Duper Cola, Inc.' shrieks at me, "you're next!" I stand up, unhook the i-pod ear buds, brush imaginary crumbs from my leatherette mini-skirt, adjust my sequined tank, make sure that the bright yellow and pink streaks in my hair are artfully framing my face, take a deep breath, square my shoulders, trill a few practice "mi, mi, mi miiiii's" and take the cordless mike the frantic, panting staffer holds out, and I step out on to the stage....There he sits, Samuel Corwin himself, ' that's the guy ', I tell myself ' who can make or break me! ' Okay, here goes, showtime...
Yeah, that's the new kind of fantasy girls nodding off in Algebra have these days. Me, I used to dream about maybe being out at some club one night and have Downtown Julie Brown herself show up and take one look at me dancing, in my teased hair, puff ball skirt, t-shirt with leggings and laced up Converse and turn to her lackeys (as all MTV Stars must have) and say in that inimitable London Cockney voice, 'Oh that's so fab, boys we simply have got to have her on Club MTV!'
In my fantasy though, I knew that my big break would probably only involve just that, one moment to get on stage at the Palladium and dance to Depeche Mode with Downtown Julie, after which I'd go to college, get a fabulous job like Diane Keaton in Baby Boom, then get married and settle down in a split-level in the 'Burbs with a really nice accountant.
These days it seems, every kid who isn't completely tone deaf, is sure he's the next big thing. By the age of eight, if he doesn't have 30,000 hits the first day You Tube debuts his rendition in the church choir of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", his little pysche is so crushed that it'll probably cost Mommy and Daddy a Rip-Stick and 80-120 hours of therapy. Incidentally, when I was in church, am pretty sure Gaga would have been verboten. We sang songs about Father Abraham, Jesus, sheep and such, we never warbled pop hits that involved tongue-ringed kisses in sand, or love as disease.
For fun, and the fact that not very much good passes for TV these days, I've begun watching, "The X-Factor". I was kind of hoping that a Susan Boyle or Jackie Evancho might be discovered here in the States, some overlooked singer that really deserved a chance. Instead what I have seen, really troubled me in terms of the future of this nation. For instance, I have never witnessed narcissism on such a large scale before. All of these 14, 15, 16-somethings and younger in some instances, in tears and crying about how they've worked so hard and just can't bear it if they are sent home. They've worked so hard...hmmm..I don't know if hours spent in front of your mirror, plugged into your I-Pod, singing along with Brittany, Mariah or X-Tina into your hairbrush really qualifies as work. I did the same thing, albeit with a Sony Walkman and Debbie Gibson and sometimes if you must know, Olivia Newton John and Sarah Brightman (who I still think is one of the best soloists ever). It seems as if all of them have been camera-ready since birth. For example, I never saw one teenager in an awkward stage with acne, gawky skinned knees or greasy hair the way kids looked in my Junior High. As if they somehow skipped over childhood and adolescence and were born as pop-stars in waiting. Because goodness knows, that's all they ever strive toward.
Is is so bad that they might have to go home, go to school, study hard and work to get a job like the rest of us mugs? In some ways the parents are as bad as the children they are raising (and I use the term raising loosely). Many times, the X-Factor, while Jr or Sissy is singing, will cut to the oh-so-proud Mom and Pop who with the requisite tears running down their faces (incidentally I think if this show continues at all, they should, in fact, rename it 'Everybody Cries') they later interview. There the almost-more-excited-than-the-star-kid parents are asked to reminisce about their little star. The interview which is overlayed with audio of Jr and Sissy singing in the background, is nearly always a Michael Landon-esque moment where Mom having pulled herself back from the brink of a complete nervous-system collapse, smiles brightly at the host and says, "Oh yes, little Jace was always musical, I can remember Daddy and I thinking while we were filming his preschool graduation that his rendition of Enya's Only Time was just so good we knew we had a star on our hands".
I think if I have to hear just one more time, how so and so, just can't stand, "to live if I have to die with this music inside of me", as if somehow music was an insidious form of cancer and singing was the only way to expell the tumour(s), I will spontaneously combust like those cows out on desolate praries where they only find a carcass some months later at the round-up!
I'm one of the lucky ones, I had good parents, not stage parents, like Justin Bieber's Mom who tirelessly promoted her son on You Tube, forcing him on to stages anywhere anyone would listen until she had the full attention of L.A Reid himself. Frankly you strip away the elfin looks, the floppy stylist-created haircut and you have a kid with an ok voice (which will not be the same when it changes) who simply 'lucked out' and who like many others will be someone we all remember was once, really famous. It's a very common tale. I wish more parents were like my Dad, who took the chance of instilling some reality into his child instead of filling her head with pipe dreams.
In the 6th grade, I was flying high in the school chorus and I and a good friend of mine (who actually still sings, not on the pop charts mind you, but in her church and I daresay she doesn't do Gaga) spent all of our time singing and mugging before mirrors dreaming we were the next Bananarama or Bangles (once again people, if these names mean nothing to you, for goodness sake find yourself an X-er, they probably still have the Cd's or at least the ability to hum most if not all of the greatest hits) and I just knew that it'd be no time before someone 'discovered us' and we'd be the next great hit on MTV. One day I was bragging and singing and my Dad gently told me that 'truthfully, your voice is not all that great. It's okay for the school choir, but your real talent will be found by studying. Study hard, he told me and learn as much as you can. If I were you, I'd read more than I'd practice singing.' I was of course devastated, and did I read? Of course, no, I sang even more and practised even harder. 'I'd show my Dad he was wrong!'
Then the day came when I had my 'vocal test' in front of our choir teacher who was a very hard taskmaster and who at the time, was my very own Simon Cowell. When the moment came where she took us aside one by one for 'mentoring' and to let us know how we'd done, she took a deep breath, (I guess even hard-nosed teachers and maybe even Simon Cowell hate to kill dreams) and told me, "You work very hard and I've never seen anyone try as hard as you do day in and day out. However, while I am happy to have you in the general chorus, you aren't a soloist, your voice just isn't strong or distinctive enough. You are a very good student and I've noticed that whenever we had a break, or when others were performing, you are always reading. If I were you, I'd take advantage of that, reading and study is where the best opportunities are. To make it as a singer, or in a band, it's a one in a million chance, even IF you are the best. Plenty of wonderful singers are working during the day at Walmart and singing in bars at night!" I was devastated of course, first of all she'd said what my Dad said! Then I realised that maybe deep down, it hurt because I knew she was right. My best successes would come later as a reporter, editor for the school paper, creative writing classes. My grades were my rewards, not my hits on You Tube.
I wish kids these days had parents who truly mentored like mine did. Parents who told them the truth instead of pushing them to humiliate themselves on the world stage. The whole history of the United States would have been altered had not a young Abraham Lincoln labored and studied and read, often in the face of adversity and crushing poverty. What if his parents had just said, "Abe, you're wasting your time with all this study, now there is a traveling Minstrel show 2 towns over, I bet with your height and distinctive 'look' you'd be a natural!"
What is so wrong with working for a living? For every Carrie Underwood or Kelly Clarkson, there is another who had their moment in the spotlight and then faded away, does anyone know where or even remember who Taylor Hicks, Justin Guarini, or Blake Lewis is these days?
My wise choir teacher left one last gem of wisdom in my year book and every so often when I'm having a day of regret I look at it. She wrote, "to my student, whom I'll always remember as being an avid reader like myself". It spoke volumes. She wrote a reader, not a singer...like myself, meaning very few make it and those who don't teach others!
By the way, I did actually try out once for a TV show...it was Jeopardy. I guess my Dad was right all along.
