‘American Idol’: A visit to the dawg pound

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Before getting into Tuesday night’s March of the Duds on ‘American Idol,’ let me take you back to a special time, 10 days ago, when the Final 24 were still shrouded in mystery to most of the world. To a special place -- a department store in Beverly Hills called Neiman Marcus -- a land of enchantments to those who live lives devoted to apparel finery. And thus where, on a Sunday afternoon, I came face to face with that giant of fashion and entertainment alike, Mr. Randy Jackson.

From across the men’s department I saw him, the diamonds encircling his watch face beckoning like a thousand points of sunlight dancing on an azure sea.

For a moment, I gaped from afar in awe, but didn’t approach, considering the great man wants his peace and solitude while practicing religion here at Neiman’s. And then I recalled, ‘Peace and solitude? This is RANDY JACKSON!’ and walked over, and asked, ‘Why aren’t there any rockers on the show this year?’

‘Really?’ he asked, sounding shocked. ‘There aren’t any?’

Far from decking me with his emerald and ruby rings, Mr. Jackson immediately lit up and dove in. For the next 10 minutes I knew the ‘Idol’-centric bliss few in this media universe achieve of a private audience on the great topics of our age, with the Great Swing Vote himself, who revealed himself to be the mensch di tutti mensches in entertaining my obsessed questioning.

Most interesting, Mr. Jackson revealed that he did not actually remember off the top of his head who the Final 24 would, saying the Hollywood week went by in a whirlwind and that he doesn’t watch the audition shows when they air. ‘I’m not like Seacrest and Cowell who have to put on the TV every time my face is on there,’ he joked.

Pressed on the rocker issue, he demurred saying Chris Daughtry was the only real rocker contestant they’d had. Constantine Maroulis and Bo Bice were just basically doing retro acts, he said. But today’s rock, he continued, is so much about yelling and screeching that it doesn’t build the sort of vocal range a singer would need to compete in ‘Idol.’ And thus, no one emerged from the tens of thousands that could fill a rocker/singer role. A Daughtry in the wild is a much rarer beast than we might have believed.

Thinking back on this conversation while watching Tuesday’s show, I was struck by how much of this competition is actually in the hands of the gods. Surely if it were not on some level a genuine competition, these would not have been the 10, whittled from 12 last week, 12 guys the producers would have wanted to build their show around. Surely, if the hands of the gods and the natural flow of the competition could have been circumvented, a latter day Bice would have been found, his way through the ranks greased until he found himself on the Kodak stage.

But instead, we have these 10 lightweights mugging through Cyndi Lauper, Nina Simone and Peggy Lee standards. It is a reminder that even at the summits of entertainment Universe, the hand of fate and the caprices of the gods still trump anything built here on Earth.

Footnote: I have received many reports that Sanjaya Malakar has acquired a huge following. I may have generational conflicts that prevent me from seeing the genius of young Malakar. Would any who understand please e-mail me ([email protected]) and explain? The best theories will be published in this space.

--Richard Rushfield