‘Singing pop is not selling out, not doing music is selling out’
So I decided to audition for Idols. Not Pop Idols… that would be the classier, original, money-fueled version. No. I entered Idols SA from the gorgeous and talent-laden mother-city, held at the Cape Town International Convention Centre.
Anyway, it started as an adventure on a whim. Dani heads off at 4 in the morning in a tiny rokkie and my (security-blanket) cowboy boots only to find a place in a queue behind the REALLY keen hundreds that had the idea before me.
Literally four hours later, once all the boredom that waiting around brings subsided and the very oddest of talents emerged, we were let in the big glass (public) doors. Since any hint of pretense had long worn off, the directors shamelessly subjected the (first lot of) thousands to an hour long round of whooping and waving for the ‘judges’ that actually only arrive three days later (unbeknownst to first-timers like myself).
Then from the whooping and cheering in the lobby we were herded like pigs to the slaughter up the escalators… well not quite to the slaughter yet. In fact, we still had a good few hours loafing in a big room on chairs before being numbered and grouped and sent out to meet our first opponent. A little cheesy classic Grease number, ‘Hopelessly devoted to you’ originally by Olivia Newton-John and the enemy was won over with my dazzling inner-diva.
Round 1: DANI-1, Enemy-0
Aaaaand then the reward: Wait around till 5pm to find out that the whole process happens again the next morning. Win.
Day 2 was far more eventful. Ha! 8am start and in a less retarded outfit than before. Still rolling the cowboy boots though… and decidedly UN-daytime makeup! We walked straight in today and got our numbers. Hours passed by like minutes now that you know some people and you’ve kind of built up immunity to waiting around. The energy is hyped. It’s called the director’s cut. Basically there’s a room chockablock with everyone you’ve caught a glimpse of in an Idols shirt. They sit there in a row or two and you stand on a mark and perform. I launched into a powerful rendition of Celine Dion’s ‘I’m your lady.’ Thankfully they either have bad taste in music or were looking for nutjobs or both so that was right up my alley! However, they are apparently anti-pants (a movement I fully endorse in my spare time) and told me to glam-up a bit for tomorrow. Yes, they totally let it slip! Haha. Oh well. If it’s glitter they want it is glitter they’ll get!!
Anyway, it started as an adventure on a whim. Dani heads off at 4 in the morning in a tiny rokkie and my (security-blanket) cowboy boots only to find a place in a queue behind the REALLY keen hundreds that had the idea before me.
Literally four hours later, once all the boredom that waiting around brings subsided and the very oddest of talents emerged, we were let in the big glass (public) doors. Since any hint of pretense had long worn off, the directors shamelessly subjected the (first lot of) thousands to an hour long round of whooping and waving for the ‘judges’ that actually only arrive three days later (unbeknownst to first-timers like myself).
Then from the whooping and cheering in the lobby we were herded like pigs to the slaughter up the escalators… well not quite to the slaughter yet. In fact, we still had a good few hours loafing in a big room on chairs before being numbered and grouped and sent out to meet our first opponent. A little cheesy classic Grease number, ‘Hopelessly devoted to you’ originally by Olivia Newton-John and the enemy was won over with my dazzling inner-diva.
Round 1: DANI-1, Enemy-0
Aaaaand then the reward: Wait around till 5pm to find out that the whole process happens again the next morning. Win.
Day 2 was far more eventful. Ha! 8am start and in a less retarded outfit than before. Still rolling the cowboy boots though… and decidedly UN-daytime makeup! We walked straight in today and got our numbers. Hours passed by like minutes now that you know some people and you’ve kind of built up immunity to waiting around. The energy is hyped. It’s called the director’s cut. Basically there’s a room chockablock with everyone you’ve caught a glimpse of in an Idols shirt. They sit there in a row or two and you stand on a mark and perform. I launched into a powerful rendition of Celine Dion’s ‘I’m your lady.’ Thankfully they either have bad taste in music or were looking for nutjobs or both so that was right up my alley! However, they are apparently anti-pants (a movement I fully endorse in my spare time) and told me to glam-up a bit for tomorrow. Yes, they totally let it slip! Haha. Oh well. If it’s glitter they want it is glitter they’ll get!!
The rest of my friends got axed. One from every ten would pass o the television recorded actual audition! First prize? A trip back to the CTICC, glammed up like a hooker, oh I mean Pop-star, at 7am!
Monday. 7am. Dressed in a sequined mini-dress with tarty heels especially bought for the occasion, I slow motion model-walked my entrance, hair-blowing and everything just like you’ll see on TV! (I kid. They totally edit that stuff hahaha but If it looks awesome then I swear I’m just a morning person.)
After some modeling and pimping in front of my fellow fine 50 and some decent jams and REALLY embarrassing footage collection, I got to the front of the telly-line. Eek. I waltzed into the room, mellow on herbal remedies and planted my killer heels firmly on the floor.
Monday. 7am. Dressed in a sequined mini-dress with tarty heels especially bought for the occasion, I slow motion model-walked my entrance, hair-blowing and everything just like you’ll see on TV! (I kid. They totally edit that stuff hahaha but If it looks awesome then I swear I’m just a morning person.)
After some modeling and pimping in front of my fellow fine 50 and some decent jams and REALLY embarrassing footage collection, I got to the front of the telly-line. Eek. I waltzed into the room, mellow on herbal remedies and planted my killer heels firmly on the floor.
“I rocked so hard they all quit their jobs to join my
fanclub” - Flat Out Lie
Sadly, I stood there and sang them a pretty song. Randal admitted it was pretty so there! He also noted that I didn’t “feel the song.” It was a no. Danny K said he’d be stupid if he said I couldn’t sing… he’d be right. It was a yes.
Unathi is definitely my biggest fan. She told me to forget IDOLS and hit the Grammy’s baby. So that’s the second yes!! I only needed one more to go to Jo’burg. Gareth. I’m pretty sure he’s dyslexic or something and mixed up ‘Hell-yes-she’s-my-hero-baby’ with ‘no’.
So it was that my 3-day pop career ended before the Golden Ticket. Beaten by a brilliant but bald bassist and a bisexual who as far as I know, isn’t even a musician!! I did score slutty heels through the deal though. Oh, and an offer to do a porno.
Unathi is definitely my biggest fan. She told me to forget IDOLS and hit the Grammy’s baby. So that’s the second yes!! I only needed one more to go to Jo’burg. Gareth. I’m pretty sure he’s dyslexic or something and mixed up ‘Hell-yes-she’s-my-hero-baby’ with ‘no’.
So it was that my 3-day pop career ended before the Golden Ticket. Beaten by a brilliant but bald bassist and a bisexual who as far as I know, isn’t even a musician!! I did score slutty heels through the deal though. Oh, and an offer to do a porno.
