By Allison Stewart
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, December 17, 2006
An open letter on the occasion of the release of new albums by Taylor Hicks, Chris Daughtry and Fantasia.
Dear former "American Idol" contestant:
So, you made it through the soul-sucking, pop-culture death march otherwise known as an "American Idol" competition.
Congrats!
Now comes the tough part: prolonging your shelf life. You're probably asking yourself, "Why do some 'Idol' contestants go on to modestly successful careers, while others disappear faster than Britney Spears's panties?"
We've got some tips on how to temporarily stave off your inevitable future of memorabilia shows and car dealership openings (and that's for the winners). It's the least we can do, considering the several minutes of pleasure you've given us through the years.
Here's what to do:
1) Pick a genre.
Contestants who've chosen niche careers tend to do better than those who pursue mainstream pop stardom. Genre fans are more loyal, plus they expect less: Carrie Underwood has become a more relatable Faith Hill, Ruben Studdard has a not-at-all-embarrassing R&B career, and Taylor Hicks has whatever it is he does. Speaking of Taylor, his self-titled debut is goofy and dated, but the boy can sing. It's stuffed with mid-tempo blues-pop tracks of the "Why won't you respect me, girl, when I work both night and day?" variety, but somehow, it's still good. It lacks one killer "I'll Be"-style single, but you can't have everything.
And Taylor's cover of "Wherever I Lay My Hat"? Goosebumps.
Note: The sole exception to genre dictum is Kelly Clarkson, the Madonna of former "Idol" contestants. (See rule No. 2.)
2) Kelly Clarkson is the Madonna of former "Idol" contestants.
Why? Because of her effortless mastery of rules 4 and 5 (yes, we really want you to read on). And because her albums aren't horrible. You would be surprised how much this helps.
3) Final show ranking doesn't matter.
If it did, Justin Guarini would be a star and not the K-Fed of Season 1. Chris Daughtry came in fourth, yet his debut, "Daughtry," is already a huge hit. It actually isn't bad -- an extravaganza of chest-thumping rock, Nickelback-like ballads and near-metal. Some of the songs are pretty catchy, and all of the album is essayed with the energetic gloominess only a newly minted lite-metal star can muster. There are Creed albums with less drama.
"Daughtry" is formulaic, but that's the point (see Rule No. 1).
4) Declare your independence from "Idol."
Pick a fight with Simon Cowell. Frequently remind people how much worse it could have been if you had accepted the label's first choice for a single. We'll know you don't really mean it, but fans don't like to think they're listening to something manufactured by "Idol" puppeteer Simon Fuller, a committee of white, middle-aged A&R men and a focus group from Indianapolis.
5) But don't go crazy.
By the time your record finally comes out, America won't remember why we voted for you in the first place. Try to build upon, not eviscerate, everything we liked about you. This means you, Fantasia: What happened to the plucky girl whose rendition of "Summertime" got us almost choked up, and whose up-from-adversity Lifetime movie taught us a valuable lesson about something or other? Why is her sophomore album an unfocused muddle of half-baked "edgy" R&B tracks and awkward, meant-to-be-sassy double-entendres?
And who invited Big Boi to appear on the credibility-shredding "Hood Boy"? Fantasia's recent break with Fuller likely has something to do with her newfound direction, but this is one time he may actually have known best. If we wanted Ciara, we would have voted for her.
6) Whatever you do, do not pull a Clay Aiken and manhandle Kelly Ripa. Trust us on this one.
You're welcome.
Listen to an audio clip of Taylor Hicks
Listen to an audio clip of Chris Daughtry
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