I’ve been infected with a dangerous new disease that poses a terrible threat to the entire Boston University community. It’s called the Kelly Clarkson Syndrome (or KCS, because nothing gets any recognition at BU without an acronym) and if you’ve had any direct contact with me in the last few weeks you may be at risk.
I became infected while watching FOX’s “American Idol” show this summer — my girlfriend made me watch it, I swear. Soon after I found myself humming along to “A Moment Like This” while in the shower, and within days I was belting out lyrics in public places throughout campus. Yes, I was that guy singing “some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this” while standing next to you at the urinals. Please accept my apologies.
I was lucky to have identified my symptoms early on, but millions of others have already progressed into the advanced stages of KCS — buying copies of Kelly’s “A Moment Like This” single, or even tickets to the Idols Live concert tour. And so, as I sit in my apartment attempting to recover from this debilitating disease, struggling to resist the urge to buy one of the few remaining tickets for the Idols Live stop at the Worcester Centrum, I got to thinking: how did popular music get to be so bad?
How did we get to a point where television producers can literally manufacture a star? Even in the age of Kazaa and LimeWire, “American Idol” producers convinced 236,000 people to lay out their money for Kelly’s single last week, earning her the largest jump in Billboard Hot 100 history, from 52 to number 1.
At the risk of sounding too much like a grumpy old chancellor, I remember the good ol’ days. The days before Carson Daly and TRL, when teenage girls wore flannel shirts instead of tube tops and posters of Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder hung on walls now ruled by ‘NSync. These were the days when music was written by musicians, and it didn’t take any dance moves to produce a number one album.
Popular music used to be filled with real feelings and emotion. The greatest songs I’ve ever heard were written and performed by musicians who were personally affected by the stories in their music. There’s a passion in their voices that cannot be manufactured, and it’s a passion that’s missing from the songs I hear on the radio today. The single for “A Moment Like This” wasn’t even written specifically for Kelly. If her American Idol competitor, Justin Guarini, had been crowned champion instead, every radio station in town would be playing his version of the song.
It’s not that today’s music sounds so terrible, it’s just that it isn’t genuine. Kelly’s producers say they’re not even sure which musical style her first album will take. It could be pop, rock, R’B, country — whatever proves most successful in their focus group testing, I suppose. No doubt everything from Kelly’s wardrobe to her hairstyle to the notes she sings will be tested, evaluated and retooled to meet the exact desires of her audience. Whatever credibility and talent she may have had before the show will be destroyed by producers looking to make a quick buck off her fame.
After being digitally adjusted and supplemented with backup vocals, Kelly’s album will be released and go multi-platinum. She’ll undergo months of performance training, and then embark on a world tour, accompanied by dancers, jumbotrons, and laser lights. And then after a year or two, she’ll disappear. Having no role in her own success, she’ll float off into oblivion, only to be replaced by the next American Idol.
There was a time when manufactured music was still entertaining. I mean, did anyone ever really take Vanilla Ice seriously? It was fake, but it was fun.
Kriss Kross weren’t exactly talented lyricists, but at least they wore their clothes backwards; and MC Hammer might have been a lame rapper, but he had those baggy parachute pants. They found ways to be original, even if their music wasn’t.
So maybe all Kelly Clarkson needs is a good gimmick. How about an eye patch? She can team up with some of her American Idol pals and go on tour as Kelly and the Swashbucklers. A little humor in her act might do something to make up for her mediocre talent and insipid lyrics.
Without a decent gimmick or some musical talent, Kelly is just another wannabe diva. Sure, everybody wants 15 minutes of fame, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s well-deserved. My favorite part of the “American Idol” show was watching former pop flop Paula Abdul congratulate each and every idol on their “fantastic” performances each week. How ironically appropriate that one of the biggest manufactured and untalented musical performers of the `90s would help to judge Kelly and her pals.
The contestants needed to look no further than the judges’ table to see where their futures lie. After some brief success and a couple of Diet Coke commercials, they’ll be cast away into the world of “VH1 Behind the Music” specials.
Enjoy your moment, Kelly.