On July 26, the 2009 American Idol tour descended on Memphis. Memphis is no stranger to pop idols. After all, the first true pop idol, Elvis Presley, once called this city his home. People in this neck of the pop culture woods are quite used to seeing people emulate, worship and get downright loony over men in tight pants.
I should begin by saying: I don’t watch American Idol. Yes. I know. I’m the pop culture Examiner. But, honey, I’ve got to tell you: even we pop culture addicted individuals must take a break sometime. That being said, what you’re getting is a review of the American Idol tour through the eyes of someone who gets most of her American Idol knowledge through the news and one seriously addicted friend who makes watching the show unnecessary (ask me how many times I’ve heard Adam Lambert sing “Mad World” – just ask me!).
I knew I had stepped into the mouth of madness when I walked in and saw a woman wearing a shirt that was nothing but Adam Lambert’s eyeball. Not two eyeballs. Just one. And for the Glamberts out there: I don’t know which one it was. Do you guys and dolls have a preference? Because, if so, I’m sure it was that one.
The madness was only intensified anytime the jumbo-trons, guarding the stage like gargantuan monoliths, displayed the image of Adam Lambert. With each and every flash of his face, screams erupted throughout the crowd. At one point, they even replaced the top of his skull with an automobile. No matter. They still screamed.
The first half of the show, while entertaining at times, felt like it was more of a formality that was necessary to get to the second. “Get through these trials, kiddies, and I’ll show you the world!” While Idol contestants Anoop Desai and, Memphis native, Lil Rounds perked up the crowd (with a hefty dose of hometown love from the crowd), most of the audience remained seated throughout the first five’s performances. Almost as if they were waiting for something. Or someone.
After a 20 minute intermission (I didn’t realize concerts came with intermissions before this – were it not for the beers, arena smell and incessant screaming, I might have mistaken it for Broadway), the show was back on and it was obvious: this was what 90% of the people in attendance had paid for.
Allison Iraheta was first after the break and the crowd was instantly on their feet. While I think that Pink’s “So What” probably wasn’t the best fit for her, once she ditched the guitar and mic stand, she was more in her element and worked the stage as a performer should.
Danny Gokey was next. For the most part, the crowd rested through his set. Had I been Sookie Stackhouse, I’m certain I would have heard an overwhelming silent chorus of, “Adam’s next. When’s he coming out? OMG, where is he? Get out the way Danny Gokey! You might be blocking a shot of his hair tips!” Gokey seemed to stick out among the top five. His song choices clashed with the latter half of the show and took on an overwhelmingly Chicken Soup for the American Idol’s Soul feel.
His set ended and the air was nearly sucked out of the arena as almost every woman from age 2 – 98 took a preparatory breath as they awaited the appearance of the boy with the leather pants and guyliner. Looking back, those like me will remember the next moment as the moment that rendered their hearing less operative. Because as soon as the graphics appeared on the jumbo-trons indicating Adam’s arrival, the noise in the arena swelled to deafening roar. Imagine the sound that would occur if a thousand Robert Pattinsons were suddenly dropped into a swirling mass of schoolgirls and Twilight moms.
Adam’s set was less Billboard Pop 100 and more the cuts you’d find on the mp3 players of slightly more discerning music fans and wannabe hipsters (no offense intended: my MP3 player contains the discography of Bowie and Gary Jules’ Mad World, as well). He appropriately grinded across the stage, working the screaming crowd like a master puppeteer with him playing Jim Henson and thousands of female fans playing his Kermit.
You’re welcome.
It was easy to see how he won the title.
Oh wait. He didn’t? America’s top pop Idol, Kris Allen, closed out the countdown with some Bill Withers, Matchbox 20 and The Beatles. And while his set was enjoyable and all words to “Hey Jude” vocalized by the crowd in time with his own, I kept waiting for those other two rockers, Allison and Adam, to come back and appropriately close the show with a bang.
Luckily, they did – along with the other Idols who appeared before them.
The show itself was boppy and fun and, at times, even extremely enjoyable. Its enjoyment came from a mixture of some of the acts along with the reaction of the fans who have made this phenomenon what it is.
After watching the show, from the perspective of someone who showed up late to this party, I feel quite dubious as to how Adam Lambert was not the #1 Idol. Though, no doubt, he’s laughing all the way to the bank – so much that he’s more than likely tearing up, smudging his eyeliner and showing off the tracks of his tears (ask me how many times I’ve heard that one – ask me!).
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a quick Tweet to Adam Lambert. I need to make him an offer he can’t refuse.
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