Southern Idol

by digby

This article in Facing South asks why it is that all the American Idol favorites are southerners:

One theory points to the South’s rich music tradition, and the fact that most forms of American music — jazz, blues, country, gospel, and their progeny such as rock — can be traced back to the region. The Southern church alone is a crucible that has cast many singers, especially the working-class, small-town kids like those who end up on Idol. Says Nigel Lythgoe, one of the producers of Idol:

I think there’s a lot of church-going [in the South] where they literally learn their craft and they’re singing there every single week and [perfecting] the performance that goes with that. And I think there’s a lot of soul there.

But Ken Warwick, another Idol producer — who says “we’ve asked this question ourselves time and time again” — has a different explanation, related to the economics of the music industry:

The thing is, if they’re [from the] North and they’re talented, then they tend to go professional. They go to New York, they come to L.A., they go to San Francisco and they get jobs. But if they’re in the South, maybe there’s a little less opportunity, so there’s more talent … floating around. And that’s what we’re after. We like the fact that the kid comes from nothing and becomes a huge star.”

Then there’s the “fanatic voter” theory, which postulates that Southern voters just get more excited about things like Idol and are more motivated to vote (the Post dismisses speculation that more Southerners are watching Idol — while it’s true the show rates high in areas like Birmingham and Raleigh/Durham, the actual number of watchers this translates into is dwarfed by the millions tuning in from California and New York).

What do I think? I think all of the above have some merit, although I’ll throw in a fourth theory. As writers like John Egerton and later Peter Applebome have noted, the South holds an idealized place in our culture. Like family farms or Norman Rockwell paintings, the South is held up as a symbol of what’s real and authentic about America — a simpler place that, like “roots music,” is a “roots place” with an enduring soul able to withstand the glitter and insanity of mass culture.

Given the spread of Wal-Marts, bank towers, and other influences in the South, it’s often more myth than reality. But it’s a powerful myth, one that the country especially yearns for when the frenzied pace of “progress” feels out of control. That makes a plain-speaking, down-to-earth American Idol kid from the South — and maybe even a Southern presidential candidate — so appealing, not just in the South but across the country.

I think it’s because the roots of all great American popular music come from the south. It’s no surprise to me that southerners would be the leaders in a vocal talent show.

But there’s also merit in that last argument. For whatever psychological reasons, contrary to myth, most Americans of all stripes actually like southern culture, southern people, southern music — all of it. (I like the food, which isn’t good for me.) It’s their politics the rest of us (and that includes at least 40% of southerners themselves) aren’t so crazy about.

Viva Dixie, baby. Go Taylor.

Update: John Tierney used to think that Idol was like watching a car crash. Now he
thinks … this:

I no longer think the Nascar theory is sufficient. “Idol” taps deeper emotions. My new Meistersinger hypothesis is that the “Idol” formula for success comes from Wagner, the composer who turned timeless passions into endless operas.

Wagner created the “Idol” format in “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg,” his opera about a 16th-century song contest that has traditionally been judged by the guild of master singers according to their own set of convoluted rules. But a burgher named Sachs, arguing that singers should instead be wooing the “untutored” hearts of the masses, proposes letting the winner be chosen instead by a young woman named Eva along with the rest of the public.

The prospect of a “Bavarian Idol” appalls the guild members, who warn that their art will be ruined “if it runs after the favors of the people.” They also reject Sachs’s suggestion that the contest include an outsider, a handsome young knight with an unorthodox singing style.

But after much scheming (this is a five-hour opera), Sachs manages to open up the competition, first by arranging for the guild’s ultraconventional singer to suffer through a Nascar-style flameout. The crowd laughs at his song and mocks him as a “booby” with no sex appeal.

Then Sachs explains to the crowd that it’s actually a beautiful song that has been “distorted” by the performer. (Or, as Simon Cowell put it to one “Idol” contestant: “I think you just killed my favorite song of all time.”) Sachs brings on the handsome knight to perform the song. The crowd loves the rebel in shining armor — “No one can woo like him!” — and he ends up winning the competition and Eva’s hand.

OK…

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