With so many former American Idol winners and contestants being dropped by their record labels, is that show still important? Has it lost its magic?
—Corrynn, Arlington, Virginia
The B!tch Replies: A puzzle, really. J Records had a phenom like Taylor Hicks, who so beautifully merges the 1970s faux soul of Michael McDonald with the carefully manufactured excitement of a revivalist power-pop barn dance, and all in one pair of pointy-toed boot things. And then they go and drop him.
That Ford commercial he did? Must have sold like 4 billion cars. I'm surprised Ford has any cars left. And the label just drops him?
And Ruben Studdard. Someone at J Records just doesn't understand that the kids are only buying Flo Rida and Timbaland because there isn't enough Ruben to go around. He is but one man, after all. And yet they dropped him, too.
The record-sales numbers that have come out are clearly a manufactured conspiracy aimed at burying this generation's greatest talents: According to reports, Hicks' 2006 debut sold just shy of 700,000 copies, a number that, apparently, disappointed the warlocks at Arista. And Katharine McPhee was also shown the door after selling a mere 400,000 units, reports say.
I am sure they have sold more albums than Hicks has sold Ford cars.
But getting serious: In order to grasp what's going on here, you need to understand that there are two entities to examine. We have the show, with its equal parts of pitiful Princess Leia wannabes, likable contenders and blazingly popular guest stars.
And then we have the winners themselves. Indie snobs may bitch and moan about too much starmaking power belonging to the labels, but pit a McPhee next to an Xtina, Madonna or Faith Hill, and really, there is no contest.
Any of those last three could flatten McPhee faster than a Trinity-style nuclear test, her wonder-bosoms notwithstanding.
When it comes to the show, ratings are down, but the juggernaut is still pretty strong. The seventh season premiere suffered its lowest ratings in four years, but it's still generally the highest-rated telecast out there these days—the only game in town, as they say, given the writers' strike.
If nothing else, all of the watercooler babble about that poor Princess Leia chick and the 19-year-old virgin with the key necklace indicate America is still pretty obsessed with the franchise.
The winners, though? Not so much. After the luster of the American Idol magic wears off, people tend to see them for what they are: middling singers, and kind of boring at that.
Unless you find power-pop barn dances to be a thrilling exercise in entertainment and suspense. In which case, my sympathies on the loss of your idol.
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