First Person: My 'American Idol' Experience, by David Cook
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. And who better to participate in this special essay series than Season 7 champion David Cook, one of the most important contestants to ever win the show? Here, he reveals what was going through his mind on the night he said “Hello” to his Idol fate.
(photo: Fox)
I think, at first glance, it’s easy to characterize American Idol as nothing but just another in a long line of television shows that have had their moment in the sun. Hell, on the surface, it’s hard to argue with that. The plot synopsis of “TV show finds someone and turns them into an overnight success” is certainly palatable on a base level. I’ll be the first to admit that before I was on the show, that plot synopsis was the beginning and end of my view of AI.
But, having gone through the experience, I can say that Idol represents so much more than that, especially to the few that have had the opportunity to find their feet planted on that stage, if even for a short time. The amount of time and energy committed by people behind the scenes to make sure that you don’t fall flat on your face for the few minutes a week you’re front and center on people’s televisions is insane, and I never saw that effort done with anything but a genuine desire to see the contestants succeed.
I remember every single time, while the people at home were watching the lead-in videos, where we’d be explaining our song choice for the week (while sitting in an area of Los Angeles that had just the perfect view behind us), Debbie or Spence, the AI stage managers, would walk up to me while I was standing there in front of the microphone, looking out at a bunch of expensive cameras and lights, trying not to A) forget the lyrics that were rolling around in my head, or B) throw up. They’d give me a quick pep talk, or a reminder to not lock my knees so I didn’t pass out, or even just a not-really-all-that-funny joke to get me to not think about the fact that I was about to sing in front of, literally, millions of people.
And there was vocal coach Debra Byrd, who was so influential on me from the get-go. I had been on the show for a couple weeks, receiving middling reviews at best, and somehow had dodged the chopping block to get to the top 16. That week, the theme was ‘80s Week, and I thought for sure I was gone. I had resigned myself to it, and after talking with friends, we picked a song I thought would be, at least, funny: A power ballad version of Lionel Richie’s “Hello.” I went to Byrd with it, and ran through it a couple times to get the edit right, and she just told me to go back to the hotel and figure out how to stop “singing” the song and start “performing” the song. Break the lyrics down, and figure out how to tell the story in front of a camera, she said. That performance ended up being a huge turning point for me, and not just for Idol but for my music career ever since.
Those are just a couple examples. For every person associated with AI, both onscreen and behind the scenes, there’s a story. Those stories didn’t come from their desire to one day be mentioned in an “American Idol Retrospective” Yahoo essay (Except maybe Spence. [Insert inside joke about manatees here]). Those stories come from being around good people who care. The opportunity to be a member of this small fraternity, and to be lucky enough to have those relationships as a result has been and will probably always be my favorite part of the Idol experience.
