Jon22: The Website of Jonathan Dobres

It’s time to come clean. I’m addicted to American Idol, and have been since it started running at the beginning of the year. Sure, it started simply enough with, “I’ll just watch the hilarious audition episodes and be done with it,” but those genuinely intense Hollywood auditions really suck you in, and before you know it you’re using your Cingular Wireless phone to text in your votes.

I’ve never watched Idol before this season, not one episode. I suppose I have good timing, as this season is currently enjoying some of the best ratings the series has ever seen. This may be because, my sources tell me, there seems to be more raw talent in the show this year. I have my own somewhat self-centered take on the ratings mystery. For the past four years, millions of people had been attending college, with no prior loyalty to the show. We had better things to do at 8:00PM than watch someone sing. Now, though, we’re working adults, and really, what else is there to do after work on a Tuesday? It’s certainly not the only factor, but given that so many of my BU buddies are freshly addicted to the show, it’s hard to dismiss it entirely.

Another reason that Idol isn’t demonstrating the standard reality show ratings decline is that it isn’t like most other reality shows. Sure, the early auditions relish humiliation, occasionally crossing the line into insult and, on one disquieting episode, transgender bashing, but once the show is in pure competition, it’s an overwhelmingly positive experience. There’s no attempts at contrived drama or engineered misery (of course, FOX also airs the apex of this in the Sudoku-titled Unan1mous). Instead, you get to see talented or, at the very least, interesting people perform and live their dream right in front of you.

There’s also what I call the Expert Factor, that weird phenomenon that turns couch potatoes into hardened musical experts, but that’s for another post entirely. I’d like to close with a brief highlight reel:

• The host. Ryan Seacrest is like a DVD player in a car. I’m sure it performs its functions well, but is it really necessary? And what is it doing there in the first place?
• I really wish Randy Jackson would stop dumbing himself down for the Dawg Pound and just let America know that he really does know good music when he hears it. We’ve seen glimpses of his very acute knowledge here and there, hidden behind a wall of monosyllabic shout-outs.
• Paula Abdul. I didn’t notice it in the earlier episodes, but the more I see of her, the more I’m certain that she’s flying around on Vicodin and Jack Daniels. It is this pharmacological magic carpet ride that allows her to give “critiques” like, “You move America,” and, “When I hear you sing, it’s like sunshine melted…through butter…and inner beauty.” You’d think that since she only speaks for five minutes per episode she’d be able to string together a tighter compliment, but no.
• Simon Cowell. Everyone pretends to hate him, but come on, we all love him. We love him because he tells it like it is, isn’t afraid to be concise, and this is the important bit, is almost always right. The man knows what he’s doing.
• Paris Bennett. The tiny little teen with the unearthly singing voice, performer smarts, and an adorable personality. Paris is my pick for top girl. If not the winner, we’ll be seeing more of her.
• Chris Daughtry. Win. Now. If God had a shaved head and sang Fuel, He’d look and sound like Chris Daughtry. Seacrest fails at his Results Show suspense shtick whenever it’s Chris’s turn because the entire audience is already screaming his name. If you haven’t heard any of his performances, you should find them. Right now.
• Taylor Hicks. Destined to lose to Chris (because you can’t beat another man’s destiny), but also a favorite of mine. Taylor came off as deeply strange at first. I can’t tell if his weirdness has diminished because he’s gotten more comfortable or because we’re just adjusting to the brilliance. In any case, he’s got a truly unique voice and a quiet confidence that springs from another dimension, not to mention he sings with his entire nervous system. Soul patrol!

Yes, American Idol owns me.