First Person: My ‘American Idol’ Experience, by Paul McDonald

The 15th and final bittersweet season of American Idol is underway, and all season long, Yahoo Music’s Reality Rocks is inviting alumni from the series to share their stories. This week, Season 10′s Paul McDonald, one of the most eccentric and interesting characters and unlikely contestants in the series’ history, blogs about how an evening of carousing led to the very unexpected audition that changed his life.

(photo: Manuel Couture)

It was the summer of 2010 and I was touring heavily with my then-band, the Grand Magnolias. We had just switched gears musically and moved from our college home of Auburn, Alabama, to Nashville. Soon after we settled in, we started to pick up a solid little buzz around town. We played Bonnaroo, started scheduling some national tour dates, and our favorite local radio station (Lightning 100) was playing our music on full rotation. We felt as though things were finally falling into place after the grind of touring non-stop for almost six years. We had also been working on an album in our East Nashville basement with Atlanta-based producer Dan Hannon, and were gearing up to hit the road pretty hard in early 2011 to promote it.

Then, out of the great big sky and into my grasp, came this unexpected, life-altering whirlwind called American Idol.

Life is funny. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that things always happen for a reason. No matter how good, bad, or inexplicable something seems in a moment, we can always reflect on it knowing that it was an integral part of our journey. I remember being in the middle of a string of Midwest dates; we were less than 24 hours from a jaunt to Denver, when the venue called to cancel the show due to “mold infestation.” This amusing detail should also help illustrate the kind of rooms we were playing during this time. But hey, what’s a cool, divey rock club without a little mold?

After the call, and some careful consideration, we decided it would be best to cancel the rest of the West Coast run and head back to Nashville for the weekend. We were low on cash, and with the Denver cancelation, we would have ended up losing money. So we drove back into town and, not surprisingly, went straight to the bar. I sat down at a table at Red Door in Midtown and had a drink with our guitar player’s then-girlfriend, Joy Spears. Joy is a mega-talented dancer that had just been on the show So You Think You Can Dance. During our conversation, she mentioned that the producers of SYTYCD also produced American Idol and then casually mentioned that I should try out – the auditions happened to be the next day. At first thought, the band was in between managers and I was never home on the weekends anyway… I should just do it. Joy told me how the show had helped ignite her career and also spoke very highly of Nigel Lythgoe and Ken Warwick, the guys who produced both shows. Inner monologue aside, I quickly laughed at her suggestion and decided not to put much stock in it. See, I didn’t know too much about Idol then, but to me, it felt like a show that went against everything I stood for artistically.

After a few drinks, however, I told her I’d at least think about it. Later that night, we went home to the band house in East Nashville to keep the party going. We hung out, we drank, we played music; I’m pretty sure we were up till almost 4 or 5 a.m. The next morning, I woke up around noon and walked upstairs. A bunch of people had crashed at our place and one of the girls from the night before told me that Joy made her promise to get me up and take me to the Idol auditions. So there I was, super-hungover, my voice shot from tracking vocals on a new song ("American Dreams”) until almost sunrise, with a quasi-stranger demanding I get into her car to go to the Idol auditions. I’ll say it again: Life is funny… which is why I grabbed my guitar and I went.

I showed up about six hours late to the arena. The cattle call-style auditions had been going on for a while – well, since about the time I went to bed. Strangely, because of my late arrival, the wait time was minimal. Most of the people had come and gone. I remember walking out onto the arena floor with my guitar, chatting with a girl I had just met; her name was Brooke Eden. Funny enough, she is now a very successful country singer in Nashville. So Brooke and I waited in line together for about 30 minutes to an hour before we both sang. I tried to pull out my guitar, but was quickly told guitars weren’t allowed, so I sang "American Dreams” – the original song I had tracked the night before, a cappella. Then they asked if I could sing something they knew, so I rifled through a few classic options, songs our band had covered over the years: Rolling Stones, Johnny Cash, a few others. After a quick chat, I dropped into “Tutti Frutti” by Little Richard, fairly positive they would send me home immediately. But, for some odd reason, an editor at the time (and now senior producer) named Norm Betts – who also turned out to be one of my favorite people on the show – loved my performance. He asked if I would go shoot some B-roll footage after my audition. I agreed, but not without warning that it had to be quick because I was missing out on a band BBQ – and any free meal was a hot commodity during that chapter of my life!

When I got back to the house, I reluctantly told my bandmates that I had auditioned for the show. I braced for some loving jabs and even genuine concern. Though they were a bit hesitant at first, we had a candid discussion with our attorney and ultimately decided it would be a good call to move forward. I played my last gig with the Grand Magnolias on New Year’s Eve alongside two of my favorite bands, Dawes and Truth & Salvage Company – rocking my signature white rhinestone suit, no less. I honestly figured I wouldn’t last too long on the show given my lack of vocal training, so I was sure I’d be back writing songs and touring with the fellas in no time. Life had slightly different plans, I guess.

I was totally out of my element on the show. I felt like a fish out of water about 90 percent of the time. But that’s the beautiful thing about art. Stepping outside your comfort zone is a surefire way to incite growth. I view Idol as a beautiful season in my life, full of growth and challenges, both personally and creatively. I got to meet and work with and some of the most talented people in the world. I also learned how to work hard. Taking cues from artists of the highest caliber really gave me a whole new perspective on work ethic.

In retrospect, I’m so grateful that I was encouraged – coerced, even – to walk into that arena that Nashville Sunday and sing my best hungover version of “Tutti Frutti.” American Idol is one of the most incredible experiences I’ve had, or will ever have. I was a part of something truly special. Not too many folks can say they’ve rocked a choreographed boy-band dance, in a white suit, singing Tom Jones hits with Tom Jones himself, in front of millions of people. Nor can they say that they’ve sat in with Stevie Wonder and sung “Happy Birthday” to Steven Tyler. These once-in-a-lifetime moments were a daily occurrence throughout Idol. It felt like a dream. I found myself having to stop periodically just to sit back and really soak it all in, otherwise I wouldn’t have been certain it was actually real. It was wild, it was bizarre, it was surreal, and I wouldn’t change a second of it for anything in the world.

I’m infinitely appreciative of everyone that gave me the opportunity and so humbled that they endured, and even celebrated, my eccentricities and my non-traditional approach over the course of the show. It was a great privilege to play even a small role in something so indelible, something so much bigger than me. They say that Idol can change your life, and they’re absolutely right. It can open a whole new, beautiful, uncharted world – if only you let it.

Much love to the entire Idol family. Long live American Idol!