American Idle

Last night I watched six strangers bravely get up on a stage and put themselves out there to be judged. The event was the 4th Annual Maine Songwriter's Association Contest. Held in a tiny theater in the back of a local restaurant, the "sold-out" crowd of about 85 attendees seemed mostly to be the friends and family of the performers. My husband and I had found our way there looking for a movie but suspecting this might be more compelling than any of the current choices playing nearby. Turns out we were right.

There was a lot of talking before the singing, mostly about the Association and its board of directors and their website and how to join the group. It was then explained that each contestant would sing a "warm-up" song followed by the contest entry that would matter. The three judges were introduced, all apparently known to the audience and one of whom was last year's contest winner. They stood and waved, then sat down in the front row.

First up was a bearded, folksy sort wearing a jaunty cap. You knew right away he had listened to a lot of James Taylor growing up. You also knew he would not win. He played the guitar and sang something instantly forgettable. Next came the Joni Mitchell of the night, a pale, young woman with long blond hair and a warbly voice who was all but hidden behind her enormous guitar. She was accompanied by a man playing the violin who stood right next to her for both songs, yet she did not introduce him or acknowledge his presence in any way. For that I instantly disliked her and so wrote her off in my mind. (I suspected her parents were sitting right next to us and her mother may have heard me say something disparaging about her, but I wasn't sure. I hoped not.)

The third contestant was a bit older than the others and more polished. He spent considerable time tuning his guitar, which made him seem more professional. Channeling Jim Croce, he sang two good songs, one of which really grabbed the heartstrings. That clearly would be the winner. Following him was another standout who played the keyboard as well as Billy Joel and sang two witty songs equal to Randy Newman's standard fare. He deserved to win the night but likely would not because he was fat and didn't look the part. (Quick, think of a fat singer besides Burl Ives.) Still, he was endearing and had a distinctive voice you wanted to hear again. (I bought his CD at intermission.)

The fifth contestant was another female, this one more Linda Ronstadt than Joni Mitchell. Her voice was lovely but her song was silly, and she made the fatal mistake of asking the audience to "sing it with me!" WTF? How could we sing a song we had never heard before? And who was she to think that we would want to? I mean Jackson Browne and "Take It Easy" you understand, but this lady's la-de-dah? No way. She definitely lost points for that.

Last was an earnest and soulful man who was pretty great in a deep, Leonard Cohen sort of way. He might have fared better if he had come on earlier, but by then everyone was pretty much full up with tunes and eager to move along. When he finished, the judges retired to the "green room" to deliberate and the crowd dispersed, milling about the bar in the restaurant, visiting the restrooms or chatting with the contestants huddled around a bridge table displaying their CDs for sale.

Jim Croce won and gave an encore performance of his winning song, which he sang with a lot more feeling this time, boosted as he was by his victory. Randy Newman and Leonard Cohen came in second and third, and the three winners met onstage and had their pictures taken together. Sadly, nobody paid any attention to the three losing contestants. Gathering our things to leave, we looked over and saw that Joni Mitchell's parents were already gone.