Once American Idol hopefuls get hand-picked by the judges during their tour of the country, they’re placed on a journey to Hollywood, still the land where this great nation’s dreams of fame and fortune and maybe riches (depending on the trustworthiness of your business team) make their primary residence. Hollywood Week is a tear-stained tradition in Idol land, one that breaks more singers than it makes, one that sets up narratives that play out over the course of the season.
But this season, one thing was different: Instead of heading right to the stage at the Dolby Theater, a few of the 212 singers assembled from this season’s auditions would have to try out once again. The audition shows featured a fair number of singers who received split verdicts from the panel of judges (most often, it was Harry Connick Jr. who thought the singers weren’t quite ready; Jennifer Lopez was the most lenient talent-wise, while Keith Urban’s judgments fell somewhere in the middle), and many of those would have to sing one last time in an airport hangar. (Ah, those Memphis Belle memories.)
Videos by VICE
The first kid up, 17-year-old Johnny Newcomb, rasped out a particularly emotive version of Foster The People’s “Pumped Up Kicks”—not exactly the sort of song that you want to start off an episode of excitement with. Things didn’t much improve from there (oh, Patriots cheerleader with a drawn-out version of “Whipping Post,” at least you tried) until Neco Starr pulled off an impassioned take on Bruno Mars’s sex-drenched “Gorilla.” Lopez had a huge smile on her face after the personal assistant was done, and I am sure she wasn’t the only person romantically inclined toward men to do so. Khristian D’avis, who tried to convince the judges she was Italian in her audition, was among the chokers, as was Tristen Langley, son of season-one Idol finalist Nikki McKibbin.
Not everyone had to sing for their supper in the hangar, but those who did were split into two buses, one of which was headed for LAX, the other for the bright lights of Hollywood. The contestants didn’t know which bus was going where until they were almost at their destinations, which made for some shots that reminded me of a particularly tense commute. Eventually one bus pulled into LAX and the other was greeted by bright lights, with each group of passengers descending into the appropriate pandemonium. Bye bye, hopefuls on the LAX bus. Maybe we’ll see you next year.
The elation felt by those singers selected to stick around would be short-lived, as the next day the competition was back in full swing. This time, each hopeful had to sing for the judges all alone. Results were mixed; I really liked Majesty York’s sweet version of “1-2-3-4” and rolled my eyes at Alex Preston’s bleep-bloop-free “Scream & Shout.” Malaya Watson’s version of “Video Games” was the first time Keith Urban had heard the mopey Lana Del Rey track, and his vow to download it must have made someone at Interscope happy. Savion Wright dedicated an original song to his brother, whose death looks pretty suspicious and grim (complete with sketchy autopsy results). There was one weird incident where Keith London sang “If I Were A Boy” and flummoxed the judges, to the point where they seemed shaken to their core by the gender-bending; they asked him to sing another track because they were rudely spending their entire time nitpicking his critiques of sexuality and not his singing, and he went with the chorus of “Same Love.” OK, we get it. Well done. But really, save your political statements for the live shows! That way at least you’ll get a better edit.
At the end of the solo rounds, 104 contestants remained—roughly half the singers had been culled since they all landed in Hollywood the day before. But there was no time for celebration, because the group round was immediately set to begin.
Hollywood Week’s group round is where the magic happens. It’s a particularly evil magic, mind you—think high-school drama club tryouts plus cliquishness between people who barely know each other minus anything resembling a good night’s sleep. Oh, and creative editing. And tears. Basically the hopefuls all have to buddy up into groups and learn performances—lyrics, melodies, harmonies, choreography, interpersonal dynamics—in the space of a day. It’s one of those situations that’s designed to boil over, a test of the “I’m not here to make friends” maxim that rules the reality-TV roost. Heroes emerge, as do villains, as contestants beg out of rehearsals for reasons of sickness, bully each other into performing the songs they want to showcase, and just generally don’t get along.
Group round provides a hint into what songs will be popular on the acapella circuit in the coming months. Alex Clare’s jittery “Too Close” was favored by a lot of the guy groups, its combination of potential for really feeling it and giving the backup singers something to do beyond simply harmonizing proving irresistible. And the ladies loved Lorde, with “Royals” popping up multiple times (although one of the women very clearly swapped in “love” in the lyric “that kind of lux just ain’t for us”—I know time is tight, but interpreting the song is just as important!).
But it also provides a window into narratives that will unfurl as the Idol season progresses. Sikenya Thompson claimed illness and stayed out of the rehearsals, but whatever illness she was suffering from worked well with her raspy voice. Caleb Johnson threw himself into “Too Close” in a way that I found to be a bit much, although I don’t know how much of my unease with him is attributable to his Philip Seymour Hoffman resemblance. A lot of camera time was handed over to Jessica Meuse, whose shock of pink hair and heavy eyeliner make her look like a bit of a punk—and the way that she first demanded that a young singer get his lyrics straight and then bristled at the directions of a brash stage mom who was very vocally accompanying her 16-year-old daughter Stephanie Hanvey through the competition were a clear sign that she was getting The Bitch Edit. To be fair, “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)” was the antithesis of the perfect song for her—she’s a denizen of coffeehouses and bars. And the mom was really, really annoying, especially after her daughter was (inevitably?) shown the door. Jess muffed the lyrics, but everyone did, and she was granted admittance to the next round.
In Season 8 of Idol the “villain” role was played by Danny Gokey, a Jesus-embracing Wisconsinite who had lost his wife and who had a bit of a smugness complex going on. This year’s Gokey might very well be Spencer Lloyd, a worship leader (a common Idol occupation) who basically strong-armed his group into singing Gavin DeGraw’s “Best I Ever Had,” which is not a good song but more importantly which is really lyric-heavy, and a tall order for someone to learn in one night on no sleep. He didn’t rehearse with his two female colleagues much because he knew the song, which seriously irked Alyssa Siebken. Their performance was a minor disaster as a group effort, although Spencer hit his spots. (“It sounded even worse before,” Alyssa responded when presented with a critique. Not untrue!) He got through and she didn’t, and the final word was her talking about “hidden agendas.” Mmm hmm. She played nice on Twitter after the episode aired, but I still am foreseeing some shady appeals to the nation’s America-ness (basically songs about God and country) in Spencer’s Idol future.
Group round ended on a high note, with four Michigan women who had been depicted during rehearsals as completely unstable coming together on a rousing “I Want You Back.” (One of them, however, immediately went into “Team Me” mode as soon as she was assured of her passage to the next round.) At the end of this week, 77 contestants remain, but next week that number will be slashed to 31—and then the episodes go live, and we’ll see if all that charisma and verve that the season has had so far is just a result of clever editing.
Maura Johnston is also singing “Royals.” Shes on Twitter — @maura
