misha
Oct 5th, 2003, 12:50 PM
Probably tied into the info that he may be on the cover of TIME. It's a long article, so I've posted it in 3 segments/posts. It will be in the Oct 13 issue of Time, which comes out this week
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1101031013-493242,00.html/cnn=yes
A R T S
Building a Better Pop Star
The record industry needs a savior. American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken could be it. Now will he play along, or is his style too far off-key?
By JOSH TYRANGIEL
Sunday Oct 5, 2003
Ask the employees at Clay Aiken's record label, RCA, if they would listen to Aiken's debut album, Measure of a Man, by choice, and the response is almost uniform: a lengthy pause followed by laughter. RCA was the home of Elvis Presley, and its current roster includes critical favorites like the Strokes and the Foo Fighters. It's a rock label. Aiken, who came in second on the most recent installment of American Idol, is not only not a rocker, but, as he says in his aggressively self-deprecating way, "I'm not an artist. I'm just a guy who was on a reality show—and I didn't even win!" Humility aside, Aiken, 24, doesn't mind being doubted because he believes in his bones that his detractors are wrong. "There are many people at the record label who are afraid of me," he says. "They don't understand the reasons that someone as uncool as me is here. In a way—and this is a horrible word to say, and once I say it you're going to print it—it's a revolution."
The revolution of which Aiken speaks is a TV show. In two seasons on the air, American Idol has snatched the notoriously vague process of selecting musical talent away from music executives and put it in the hands of ordinary Americans. In a convenient syllogism, Aiken believes that since everyday people chose him as their hero, those at RCA who don't like him or his music are biased against everyday people. He may be right. It's also possible that his denigrators love music—and the process of making music—far more than Aiken can imagine and that they resent having their passion marginalized by anyone with a telephone and a taste for Bee Gees medleys. "I don't know why people relate to me," says Aiken, "but my guess is that they're tired of beautiful, cookie-cutter pop stars. They don't believe them, and they don't trust them."
With Measure of a Man's Oct. 14 release around the corner, it is now an incidental fact that Aiken did not actually win American Idol. Thirty-four million people watched last May as Ruben Studdard edged out Aiken by less than 1% of the votes. Studdard was the more polished singer, but Aiken was the better narrative. Week to week, with the help of a hair iron and contact lenses, he was transformed from a complete geek who sang show tunes into a better-looking geek who sang pop ballads. After the Idol finale, interest in Aiken surged, and his startlingly sincere first single, This Is the Night, trounced Studdard's to become the best-selling single since Elton John's reworked Candle in the Wind. Modern rock radio, which is dominated by hip-hop, nu-metal and irony, was overwhelmed by a wave of requests and was forced to play Aiken's song. Rolling Stone put him on its cover and had to increase the print run to meet demand. Richard Sanders, executive vice president and general manager of RCA Records, caught on early to what he calls the "emotional connection" Aiken forged with the Idol audience, and he decided that regardless of who won on the show, RCA was going to sign Aiken. (In a deal struck with the show's creator, Simon Fuller, RCA has the right of first refusal for all American Idol finalists. So far, the label has signed inaugural winner Kelly Clarkson, her runner-up Justin Guarini and Aiken; Studdard was signed by sister label J Records.) Sanders made his name as a music executive by signing Moby. He won't say whether he's a fan of Aiken's music—"But I'm a disciple of the phenomenon," he offers, flashing a wry smile. "There is no Ed Sullivan Show anymore, no opportunity for two or three generations to listen to music together and have a good time. I'm into being the guy that provides that."
Many members of the RCA staff are fond of Aiken, if not his music, and are willing to go along with Sanders. But a healthy minority have curiously deep reservoirs of disdain for the Idol industry. One RCA executive, who insisted on anonymity, cited Idol as proof that "Americans have no taste" and described Aiken as "Barry Manilow, but with less talent." Sanders says he understands that some of his employees are "skeptical about the selection process and skeptical about selling a pop artist with no credibility." But, he adds, "I've told everyone they need to look at it this way: Americans buy more vanilla ice cream than any other flavor. Yes, they like their Rocky Road and Cherry Garcia, but ultimately America wants to consume vanilla. So we're going to sell the best vanilla. Given the problems we're facing as an industry, we cannot afford to be judgmental." Clive Davis is not a man easily stripped of his judgment. Davis, as he often reminds people, discovered Janis Joplin, Patti Smith and Whitney Houston. Despite his status as chairman and ceo of the RCA music group, he still considers himself an A.-and-R. (artist-and-repertoire) man, which means he loves matching singers to songs. It is Davis' job to gather material from professional songwriters for the Idol albums, oversee their production and put his stamp of good taste on every finished product. Shortly after the Idol finale, Davis invited Aiken to his home to discuss Aiken's debut. "I told him," says Davis, "that he is a marvelous talent and that This Is the Night is a very strong song, but it is a souvenir of a television show, and we have to get beyond that. It is my feeling that when you get into being a career recording artist, the stakes are different. People want to see if you can stretch and evolve. They want to know if you have some edge."
Before appearing on American Idol, Aiken was a special-education teacher in Raleigh, N.C. He is a devout Baptist who does not smoke or drink, though he claims to have a temper that emerges when he sees "people with disabilities treated like they're 4 years old." In his piety, Aiken can make Billy Graham seem like a rogue. He listened to Davis' advice about edge and then respectfully asked that he not be required to sing any songs about sex. "Clive tried to tell me that saying certain words in a song—or as he says, 'putting some balls into it'—isn't bad, it's just strong emotion," says Aiken. "Well, there are certain words and emotions I don't want kids hearing, and I'm not changing because they think it's going to sell better. This is going to sound horrible, but I got 12 million votes doing what I did."
Davis counters that Aiken is no longer selling to a TV audience. "You can't worry about who bought the last single," says Davis from his seat in an office studded with platinum-record plaques. "You can't be paralyzed by what the public expects of you. We're now competing against Justin and Christina and Avril and Pink, and if you allow the television audience to program your music, you will not be on radio and you won't make mtv. And then where are you? We have to stay ahead of the curve."
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1101031013-493242,00.html/cnn=yes
A R T S
Building a Better Pop Star
The record industry needs a savior. American Idol runner-up Clay Aiken could be it. Now will he play along, or is his style too far off-key?
By JOSH TYRANGIEL
Sunday Oct 5, 2003
Ask the employees at Clay Aiken's record label, RCA, if they would listen to Aiken's debut album, Measure of a Man, by choice, and the response is almost uniform: a lengthy pause followed by laughter. RCA was the home of Elvis Presley, and its current roster includes critical favorites like the Strokes and the Foo Fighters. It's a rock label. Aiken, who came in second on the most recent installment of American Idol, is not only not a rocker, but, as he says in his aggressively self-deprecating way, "I'm not an artist. I'm just a guy who was on a reality show—and I didn't even win!" Humility aside, Aiken, 24, doesn't mind being doubted because he believes in his bones that his detractors are wrong. "There are many people at the record label who are afraid of me," he says. "They don't understand the reasons that someone as uncool as me is here. In a way—and this is a horrible word to say, and once I say it you're going to print it—it's a revolution."
The revolution of which Aiken speaks is a TV show. In two seasons on the air, American Idol has snatched the notoriously vague process of selecting musical talent away from music executives and put it in the hands of ordinary Americans. In a convenient syllogism, Aiken believes that since everyday people chose him as their hero, those at RCA who don't like him or his music are biased against everyday people. He may be right. It's also possible that his denigrators love music—and the process of making music—far more than Aiken can imagine and that they resent having their passion marginalized by anyone with a telephone and a taste for Bee Gees medleys. "I don't know why people relate to me," says Aiken, "but my guess is that they're tired of beautiful, cookie-cutter pop stars. They don't believe them, and they don't trust them."
With Measure of a Man's Oct. 14 release around the corner, it is now an incidental fact that Aiken did not actually win American Idol. Thirty-four million people watched last May as Ruben Studdard edged out Aiken by less than 1% of the votes. Studdard was the more polished singer, but Aiken was the better narrative. Week to week, with the help of a hair iron and contact lenses, he was transformed from a complete geek who sang show tunes into a better-looking geek who sang pop ballads. After the Idol finale, interest in Aiken surged, and his startlingly sincere first single, This Is the Night, trounced Studdard's to become the best-selling single since Elton John's reworked Candle in the Wind. Modern rock radio, which is dominated by hip-hop, nu-metal and irony, was overwhelmed by a wave of requests and was forced to play Aiken's song. Rolling Stone put him on its cover and had to increase the print run to meet demand. Richard Sanders, executive vice president and general manager of RCA Records, caught on early to what he calls the "emotional connection" Aiken forged with the Idol audience, and he decided that regardless of who won on the show, RCA was going to sign Aiken. (In a deal struck with the show's creator, Simon Fuller, RCA has the right of first refusal for all American Idol finalists. So far, the label has signed inaugural winner Kelly Clarkson, her runner-up Justin Guarini and Aiken; Studdard was signed by sister label J Records.) Sanders made his name as a music executive by signing Moby. He won't say whether he's a fan of Aiken's music—"But I'm a disciple of the phenomenon," he offers, flashing a wry smile. "There is no Ed Sullivan Show anymore, no opportunity for two or three generations to listen to music together and have a good time. I'm into being the guy that provides that."
Many members of the RCA staff are fond of Aiken, if not his music, and are willing to go along with Sanders. But a healthy minority have curiously deep reservoirs of disdain for the Idol industry. One RCA executive, who insisted on anonymity, cited Idol as proof that "Americans have no taste" and described Aiken as "Barry Manilow, but with less talent." Sanders says he understands that some of his employees are "skeptical about the selection process and skeptical about selling a pop artist with no credibility." But, he adds, "I've told everyone they need to look at it this way: Americans buy more vanilla ice cream than any other flavor. Yes, they like their Rocky Road and Cherry Garcia, but ultimately America wants to consume vanilla. So we're going to sell the best vanilla. Given the problems we're facing as an industry, we cannot afford to be judgmental." Clive Davis is not a man easily stripped of his judgment. Davis, as he often reminds people, discovered Janis Joplin, Patti Smith and Whitney Houston. Despite his status as chairman and ceo of the RCA music group, he still considers himself an A.-and-R. (artist-and-repertoire) man, which means he loves matching singers to songs. It is Davis' job to gather material from professional songwriters for the Idol albums, oversee their production and put his stamp of good taste on every finished product. Shortly after the Idol finale, Davis invited Aiken to his home to discuss Aiken's debut. "I told him," says Davis, "that he is a marvelous talent and that This Is the Night is a very strong song, but it is a souvenir of a television show, and we have to get beyond that. It is my feeling that when you get into being a career recording artist, the stakes are different. People want to see if you can stretch and evolve. They want to know if you have some edge."
Before appearing on American Idol, Aiken was a special-education teacher in Raleigh, N.C. He is a devout Baptist who does not smoke or drink, though he claims to have a temper that emerges when he sees "people with disabilities treated like they're 4 years old." In his piety, Aiken can make Billy Graham seem like a rogue. He listened to Davis' advice about edge and then respectfully asked that he not be required to sing any songs about sex. "Clive tried to tell me that saying certain words in a song—or as he says, 'putting some balls into it'—isn't bad, it's just strong emotion," says Aiken. "Well, there are certain words and emotions I don't want kids hearing, and I'm not changing because they think it's going to sell better. This is going to sound horrible, but I got 12 million votes doing what I did."
Davis counters that Aiken is no longer selling to a TV audience. "You can't worry about who bought the last single," says Davis from his seat in an office studded with platinum-record plaques. "You can't be paralyzed by what the public expects of you. We're now competing against Justin and Christina and Avril and Pink, and if you allow the television audience to program your music, you will not be on radio and you won't make mtv. And then where are you? We have to stay ahead of the curve."