Hey, Would You Like To Talk About Singing For Our Legendary Rock Band?

“Amongst all that furor, there wasn’t really a quiet moment to talk,” May tells Rolling Stone in an e-mail interview. “But [drummer Roger Taylor] and I are definitely hoping to have a meaningful conversation with him at some point. It’s not like we, as Queen, would rush into coalescing with another singer just like that. It isn’t that easy. But I’d certainly like to work with Adam. That is one amazing instrument he has there.”

That's Brian May, Queen guitarist and frontman, talking about American Idol runner-up Adam Lambert.

Let's say you're sitting around in your living room one day and say, "You know, I think I'll try out for this American Idol thing." Six months later the guitarist of Queen is pondering whether or not to give you a job?

Not bad, buddy.

Idol Over

No dice, looks like David Cook took the Idol prize. I thought if Archuleta won, we'd get to see a Stage Dad-inspired meltdown from the kid sometime around 2010. Lots of tantrums, credit card debt, binge drinking in Vegas, therapy, so forth. Alas, no. Still, the kid can sing and I'm pretty sure he'll have an album out within a year.

This was the first year I tuned in to Idol, though my viewing of the karaoke contest began to dry up once baseball season started. The hockey playoffs next guaranteed that I wouldn't see all of the final episodes, but I saw more than enough.

Cook Wins
I didn't understand what all the Idol hype was before, and now I see it's the same old draw: the chance to make it big. Shows like that never go out of style, they only change into something else. Now we have So You Think You Can Dance, and America's Got Talent. Canada's got its own version of Idol, as do several other countries. Even Afghanistan has their own version, which is actually quite cool: a woman made it to the top three. Only a few years ago, she would never have been singing in public, let alone on TV. A few years later, and she's entertaining the masses for a shot at five thousand dollars. Five thousand!

One thing I do have to say is that the American Idol producers treated the losers pretty well. I thought they would have put them out to pasture immediately, but tonight they brought a bunch of them back to sing with stars like Bryan Adams and Donna Summer. I didn't even know Donna Summer was still around, but she still sings well.

Tonight Cook sang a good cover of ZZ Top's Sharp Dressed Man. He's got definite chops and we'll be hearing a lot of him in the coming years.

Now back to the hockey game.

Go Gaspy Go

I'm with Vote For The Worst on this one (VFTW are the guys that ask their fans to phone in and vote for the worst American Idol contestant, to piss off America). Anyway, if enough people called in and voted for David Archuleta (whom VFTW calls "Gaspy"), then we will get to watch a meltdown of mammoth proportions over the coming year or two.

Root For Gaspy
What could be better? An Up With People kid that sings sappy songs, cries at the drop of a hat, and has a monster Stage Dad for a father (the kid's pop was banned from Idol's backstage, and the other contestants couldn't stand him; he's got Record Producer Hell written all over him). If little Dave wins Idol, the kid will have a record label before he has credit cards. Always a recipe for tabloid disaster.

As for the other finalist, David Cook, he actually has chops and looks like he could go far. For this reason, he should be praying to lose the competition. If he loses, he's out from under the Idol record contract, which would only hem him in. After the publicity he's received the past few months, there's no way he doesn't get a record contract anyway, and he can dictate the terms.

Go Gaspy.

Idle Idol?

According to Nielsen, American Idol has slipped 7% in the ratings compared to last season. Now show biz insiders are wondering if the show is doomed.

They wish. No matter how much you want the karaoke show to fail, it won't. Idol is posting 29 million viewers a week, making it the number one series on TV. If a show is "failing" with 29 million viewers, then I would love to be the producer of that failure.

I don't buy the Idol concept as a true "reality show." There's nothing real about shows that are lit, costumed, blow dried, and edited, whether they take place on a stage or in a house.

What Dreams Are Made Of
The idea that Idol is a place to find untapped talent is fairly absurd too, as proven by this year's contestants Carly Smithson (she had a flop album a few years ago), and David Cook (he also had a small-time solo album, which can be downloaded via the internet).

But who cares?

The point of the show is to sell various ideas. Teens get to dream that they'll be rich one day, if only they can impress some limey dude at an audition in Tuskegee. Older guys get to dream about banging the blonde Sonic waitress from Orlando. Ladies get to make fun of the contestants' clothes and point out who's losing more weight from week to week, then declare that the gay kid's going to win, anyway. Cynical bastards like me can tune in and hope to watch someone sing an Up With People ditty, so Simon Cowell can abuse them in front of millions by declaring them a "cruise ship act."

There is no stopping a show that appeals to so much escapism, evil or otherwise.

Hollywood Bust

The numbers have come in, and the Oscars tanked, having scored the smallest number of viewers since Nielsen started the whole Oscar-ratings biz back in 1974.

Myway.com reports that one night of Oscars is worth about 10 million views less than three nights of American Idol. Idol's Thursday special last week scored over 23 million viewers on its own (83 million for the week), while the Oscars brought in a paltry 32 million viewers. In other words, 24 no-name kids singing karaoke songs are drawing more attention than all of the movie stars combined.

No surprise to me. If Hollywood thinks the average American viewer is going to watch movie stars pat themselves on the back, they've got another thing coming. The latest slew of American-bashing flicks did nothing to make America proud of its movie factory, and neither did the endless stories of stars' excesses with booze and drugs.

One minute the audience is hearing about drunk driving charges (Mel Gibson, Kiefer Sutherland, et al), the next they're hearing Michael Moore say, "Please forgive us," to the "international audience" while he walks the red carpet. Then they're supposed to watch these people stage-cry while picking up a statue? Right.

Just once I'd like to hear an honest movie star accept an award:

"All right, here's the deal. I have to thank my agent, the director, the producers, and my publicist. The list of names we all rattle off when accepting an award are not people we care about, only people that can help our careers. I don't really have time to thank mom and dad, because I have to be a sycophant and kiss some A-list ass, otherwise I'm screwed. Besides, I went into rehab and found out that my dad used to beat me and my mom dressed me as Heidi until the age of six. You can see it on the next Oprah.

"If I don't thank the director, he won't want to work with me again, which wouldn't be so bad because I think I'd be a better director than him. Still, I should thank him because he let it pass the day I wouldn't come out of my trailer after taking too many Quaaludes. Not like it mattered. After three weeks of shooting at fifty grand a day, what could he do, fire me? In my defence, if they hadn't run out of Diet Coke, I wouldn't have been so upset. But no Diet Coke? Give me a break. That's like an invitation from Mr. Quaalude himself.

"I have to thank the producers, too. They're the ones that give you the job and hand you a check for 20 million and all the rest of it. Anyway, they phoned me up while I was lounging by the pool. My agent (who's an even bigger prick than me, if you can believe it) had them get me the script. I thought it was great. After the fifth re-write and my script consultants were done with it (that's the Harry Jones and John Crenshaw that I just mentioned, in case you thought they were friends or something), I decided to do the picture.

"This film was a tough spiritual journey. It was a real pain in the ass shooting during basketball season. I had to give my Laker tickets to my hair stylist and he stiffed me for half the money. My trailer was the eighteen wheel Winnebago, which is a little better than the mini-Winnie, but not by much. It sucked, but I accepted it because I thought the film was so personal. I really felt a connection with it. Sure, it was about a serial rapist that lives in Des Moines, but hey, I've been to Kentucky.

"Next I have to thank my co-stars. I'd rip their heads off for a movie role, but there's no need to tell them that. Though they're all no-talent hacks compared to me, and I'd sell their daughters into slavery to get the part in the next Spielberg movie, I love them all very much. By the way, I banged the blonde, and screwing in a Winnebago is not easy, take it from me.

"Finally, I have to thank the fans. I'd like to thank the kids that go on double dates and drop a hundred bucks a night so I can stand here in a tux, pretend like I give a shit, and then go get drunk at a party and crash my car afterwards. All of the courtroom judges in this town are star struck anyway, so who cares? Barbara Walters will have the camera guys shoot me in soft light during the interview, and you'll forgive me. Don't eat meat, drive a Prius, and end the war. Good night."

Photo: Reuters

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