thirteen ways

Melinda Doolittle was kicked off of American Idol Wednesday night.

OK, that sentence, or at least its presence in this blog, needs some backstory. Yes, I realize that the intersection of American Idol and eighth blackbird fans might only be a point in the Venn diagram of life, but I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Especially combined with the endlessly-written-about Joshua Bell incident (see the earlier post titled “Forgive My Sensationalism” to see what I’m talking about). Essentially, Melinda Doolittle (let’s call her “Mindy,” mostly because that’s what most other writers call her, and maybe that’s even what she wants to be called) had the best voice on American Idol all season. Hands down. A professional back-up singer, Mindy had excellent technique, her pitch and vocal support were superb, and she nailed every song style given to her, some more than others. So it was a shock for me when Wednesday night, she was the one who received the fewest votes out of the top three, allowing two younger singers to vie for the title and leave her behind.

So what does this mean? Over 60 million votes were tallied (note I didn’t say 60 million people, although since I’m from Chicago, I don’t think that the idea of someone voting early and often is necessarily a bad thing), so why didn’t they who voted vote for Mindy? What did they think was better about Jordin or Blake? That’s the question I’m interested in, and one that we couldn’t ask in the Joshua Bell (let’s call him “Joshie,” because I feel like it) situation. When hundreds of people passed Joshie (see? Isn’t it fun?) in the DC Metro, not noticing that one of the world’s best violinists was playing some of the best pieces ever written for that instrument on a violin that’s one of the best ever made, we didn’t get a chance to find out whom they would have noticed and maybe even tipped, given the alternative between him and someone else. American Idol voters did have a choice, and maybe I’m the only one, but whom they picked helps me understand both situations better.

Neither Mindy nor Joshie ever seemed to exert a lot of effort in their performances. They both sang/played passionately, sometimes even exuberantly, and they both connected with their music and even their audiences (Mindy more than Joshie, to be fair). But it never seemed hard for either one. There was never a moment in any of their performances in which an audience member would find himself holding his breath, wondering how someone could be doing what he was witnessing at that moment. And wondering if that performer might fail.

Professionalism in music breeds control in performance. If you perform for people night after night, obviously it’s a huge goal to not screw up as often as possible. I don’t buy into the theory that polishing technique requires a sacrifice of musicality — without technique, how can you express a truly beautiful musical phrase? Jordin can’t hit her high notes without support, and Blake can’t beat box without rhythm, so I’m not proposing that they were chosen because people want to hear raw amateurish performances. But I’m thinking that maybe some people voted for them because they saw that when Jordin or Blake faltered, they did it because they were trying to do something incredible. Maybe even something beyond their abilities. And, maybe, people voted for them to show their appreciation that these performers cared enough to try to give more than they — and their current ability — had to give.

When we professional musicians spend our time trying to control every aspect of our performances, what happens to the performances themselves? Are we actually performing, or just repeating a well-choreographed rehearsal? And how does the latter appeal to an audience of interested, potentially stressed-out, musically-curious but — honestly — musically-uneducated people who often trust what the media and their friends tell them is good more than their own instincts? Are they drawn to a performer who’s clearly mastered a skill in a way that they can’t possibly dream of doing? Or are they looking for someone who’s very, very good, much better than them, but still connected TO them through the sheer fact of trying to do something that they haven’t necessarily already perfected?

And does that matter? Obviously, I think it does. It seems to me that as performers, we need to be reminded that we have an obligation to take risks, to push ourselves to be better, and, especially, to try to do things that we’re not sure we can do. I think Melinda and Joshua are fabulous artists, and I — a professional musician — have been thrilled and inspired by both of them over the past months and years. But hundreds of commuters, and millions of Idol voters, can’t be completely wrong. Putting too much stake in populism has plenty of its own pitfalls. But that doesn’t mean professionals can’t learn something from it.