Let me explain first that like some of you, going to an Idol concert, doing ANYTHING more once the show was over — heck, caring very much at all about the show while it was on– is very unprecedented for me. I’m a journalist, a normal person, someone not easily swayed by anyone or anything.
But Adam. …
So as my obsession with this glittery alien grew beyond any sense of reason and when it became very clear that if he wasn’t going to win Idol he sure was going to come close, I secretly bought tickets to the Glendale, Ariz., show — which, I might add, is hundreds of miles away from my home in the mountains of New Mexico. So this was a major commitment. Coming along for the fun was my sister Justine, one of the only local women I know who shares my love for the Lambert (what can I say? I hang out with pop culture neophytes); my daughter Alicia, 14, and son Nicky, 12. I have other kids but I chose them because they were the ones who on those Idol voting nights toward the end stayed up with me to power text for Adam. Once, one of them was so tired the next day that her teacher inquired why. When she explained, the teacher did not believe her. “No parent would do THAT, ” the teacher told her.
Obviously, not an Adam fan.
We began preparations early, garnering glittery jewelry and clothing, black things, blue hair dye and black nail polish for feet and fingers. For Nicky, we found some wild striped pants at Hot Topic and an amazing hairdresser who cut his hair in Adam style. But we were not prepared for the reaction Nicky got in his Adam getup. You should also know that Nicky is something of a showboater and a “ladies (girls?) man” anyway, so he owned this glittery persona with zeal. People came up to us to take photos of him and with him. “He’s ADORABLE!” they cooed. Little girls stalked him throughout the Jobing Arena. Someone wrote on another blog that he or she thought my son was with two girls wearing Kris Allen garb. Nope, those were stalker girls. Hee!
My sister and I walked discreetly behind him and Alicia (mostly because they walk faster than us through the crowd) in the arena and took in all the reactions. It was amazing. We met so many cool Adam fans this way. Two lovely women (sisters, I believe) who we had met earlier at the pre-concert meet and greet took him under their wing after the show (I myself was struggling further up in the crowd to keep my crappy spot four people back from the barricades) and got him to the front of the after-concert meet and greet to make sure Adam saw him and gave him an autograph.
Adam fans can be so maternal.
Nicky tells me that Adam’s handlers were already escorting him back in when the women urged him to come see Nicky. Adam obliged. He and Nicky complimented each others’ hairstyles, and Nicky says that Adam let him touch his hair. What? Women were dying to touch Adam, yet my young son got the pleasure. Woo!
Now as for the concert. Like many others, I will say that the bottom six were quite entertaining and quite good — though certainly I would never have thought to spend so much time, money and mileage traveling to a show of just them. I enjoyed Michael Sarver, who has grown on me because he just seems so genuinely nice and happy to be even a small part of the show. He certainly tweets more than the others, has responded to me in a DM and was the only Idol to brave Arizona’s 111 degree afternoon before the show to come out to see us sweaty fans. My suggestion: Lose the sparkly white jacket — makes him look too boxy.
Megan, poor Megan. Pretty, tottering there on her pink skyscraper heels. She and her set was so, um, pink and cloyingly sweet that I felt I needed an insulin shot afterward. First song OK, but the Amy Winehouse was a mess. We did hear the ca-ca, but the set was already dark and she was already being erased from our memory banks.
How funny. I’m forgetting everyone in the bottom six, and I guess that says something. I do remember being worried for Lil when she tore off that dress sheath thing to reveal a black catsuit underneath — I recall that massive bubble butt from the show. But it was not distracting. What was distracting was the karaoke words on the screen when she sand “Single Ladies.” Do we really need that? The only part most people sing anyway is wohohohohohohohohoh.
Scott and Matt were revelations. Their prowess on the piano was nicely showcased, and I must say I enjoyed both thoroughly — and did not expect to. It was nice to see Scott get such a good response from the hometown.And Matt just tore up the place with his first song but lost a bit of the momentum with that last Fray song. Be afraid of the Fray, Matt!
Actually, everyone in this group got great reception — Matt a little more than others. I should say that I had a good way of telling this because besides the family members I was with I seemed to be in a section of folks who must have thought they were going to a memorial service and not an Idols concert. Pins were dropping and I could hear each one, it was so quiet where we sat. I learned later that many of these folks were Gokey fans — so we were something of the renegades of Section 102. Because of their stoicism, we got a really good sense of the responses from the mostly packed arena as a whole.
I’m digressing here, but another fun part of this whole experience was identifying the different camps of fans. Glamberts were by far the most obvious and the most joyous and crazy in their glitter and black and unabashed ADAM shirts. Many of those shirts were quite creative, all spray painted or glitter painted and bedazzled. Many traveled in groups. We were all like family who hadn’t seen each other for awhile, and I was so impressed with how friendly we Glamberts were to each other. It was like, oh thank GOODNESS, other people who think like I do and don’t think I’m crazy! Or I really am crazy but so are they so it’s all good. The next most identifiable group were the Gokey folk, and many of them had posters and Tshirts. Purple, I guess, was his color? We learned this while eating at Margaritaville, which is right across a courtyard from the arena, and saw three older women in purple Gokey shirts. A much younger woman in a purple plaid shirt went over to them and they chatted away merrily as she touched her shirt in a sort of “I’m one of YOU” sisterhood thing.
I do have to say that it did seem like lots of these Gokesters seemed almost, I dunno, superior or righteous about their guy. Maybe they were that way just to us Adam fans. I heard that some nasty megachurch pastor had recruited many in his flock to attend the concert for support of Gokey, but I think there was an undercurrent of wanting to thwart the ungodly Glambert nation, as if we were all sinners and needed to be saved.(Gay? Glitter? Mic humping? Gasp!) I don’t know. It was just weird. I wondered if the statues around me were of this ilk. Fans of the others were much less obvious. I did see a few Kris and Matt signs, and there were plenty of Kradam fans as well.
Back to the concert. One more thing about the bottom six. This Anoop guy. Is he supposed to be a parody or facetious? He comes out in nerd attire — untucked button-down shirt, tie, vest, tennies and horrendous big black glasses that wouldn’t even be attractive on Adam. They reminded me of the 3-D glasses you get at the movies. Purposely ugly. Does he need them? Is this a statement of some sort? I just don’t get it. I was so distracted by this that I barely paid attention to his singing, so I have nothing to say about that. I will say that Anoop did a hip wiggle thing that caused my group to burst out laughing. I mean, it was ludicrous. Like seeing Jared, the Subway weight-loss guy, in a sex tape.
I love parts of the medleys — the “Tell Her About It” piano duels of Scott and Matt (and that song is one of my least favorite of Billy Joel’s so that is saying something) and Beggin’ — WOW! But the duet with Lil and Megan was helatious. I could imagine Lil wanting to bitch slap Megan off her heels because she was so out of tune.
A final thought on Anoop (I know. Digress, digress). We also burst out laughing at his screen promo. It’s all clouds and blue skies and then Anoop’s face materializes like he is God or an angel or the front of a 747. It’s just too cheesy (Gokey’s is equally cheesy but not as ethereal).
After intermission came the top four, but I have to tell you that the anticipation of seeing Adam after so many weeks of thinking about this, after so many hours spent listening to horrid tinny cellcasts, watching so many YouTubes, reading so many blogs and reviews and Adam fan sites, it seemed almost unreal to be there. I mean, for weeks I have spent far too much time on the laptop looking for all things Adam and conversing with like-minded fans — probably more so than my own kids. Not good. My friends think I’m obsessed, and I am. I’m such a fantard.
Allison was great, but the guitar thing for the Pink song makes little sense. It seems to hang there like a big shiny bauble. From time to time, she strums a few notes, but it’s clear from how she does it that this does not come easily. Also, in some ways, and not to diss Allison, what was best with this set was the band. Barracuda rocked but mostly because of the guitar (NOT played by Allison). Don’t get me wrong, she was great. Perhaps this was just a case of bandzilla, but whatever it was she just couldn’t quite match the music, even with all that energy packed into that little girl.
Now we come to Gokey, and let me say upfront that I have never been a fan, not just because of his singing and the “scream” but how he seems to find ways to put his foot in his mouth, how he drags his poor dead wife everywhere one minute then asks who the hot reporter in silver heels is the next. It also bugs that he continues to try–TRY, being the key word–to imitate Adam. I mean, the taking off the jacket thing? The dog chains from the pocket? The mic between the legs? The pelvic thrusts? Oh Gawd no. You might as well have Alice the maid from Brady Bunch doing her best “Poker Face” a la Lady Gaga. It’s that jolting, And revolting. If you’re going to do the jacket strip you ought to have something more than a shirt favored by accountants underneath. You have to have the swagger, the sex, and Gokey does not have that.
I also don’t understand why the guy who was dinged the most for his awkward moves on the show is the only one who does a dance solo. How weird is that? Perhaps the producers are having a laugh at Gokey’s expense? And he sweats a lot. Adam, who arguably moves around a lot more on the stage than anyone else AND with that amazing leather jacket shows no signs of perspiring. Gokey looks like he’s been out in the Arizona sun hauling potatoes. The infamous sermon part was not as bad as I expected. No dead wife, just a nuanced “personal tragedy.” Hmm maybe he’s angling ever so slowly for the reporter in the silver heels. But what was strange was how the arena, particularly those statues around me morphed into come-to-Jesus megachurch worshippers, their hands swaying in the air in one of those Songs 4 Life commercials. Can I have an Amen? I would say that the singing itself was good, but I do not remember anything more than at times his voice sounded, um, overworked. Someone get him a vocal coach or he isn’t going to make it to New Hampshire. Once again, I was oblivious to a lot of this as I knew what was coming up next. I had heard it so many times on cellcasts, but when those loud explosions began, when Adam’s image flashed across the screen, it was as if I went into a manic trance, if there can be such a thing. I was not me anymore. I was Adam’s bitch.
I have read how some people think that Adam’s WLL was more subdued than at San Diego, but as a veteran of the concert YouTubes it did not seem that way to me at all. He was wild, sexy, did that amazing mic sex thing (that I could watch over and over–and, um, have). Starlight was mesmerizing, not just in voice but in the stage effects, all sparkly stars across the stage and arena. Mad World was haunting. I never realized before how emotive Adam’s hands and expressions are when he sings these songs. I suppose you can say it was somewhat theatrical, but it was effective and beautiful to me. I almost cried, and I didn’t even cry when my 12-year marriage fizzled. The Bowie medley, the jacket strip done right, the hip rolls, the pelvic thrusts were unbelievably sensual, exciting, hypnotic. I could not move. I missed him saying “get up and dance, bitches, ” and then that playful laugh. I heard that later on a YouTube. I must have been hypnotized to have missed that. But I am in the camp that loves that he dares to say that. We are not in Idol-land anymore. We are in Adam-land. Adam has so much more natural charisma onstage. He prances, he struts, he smolders. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Even as he went into Let’s Dance, a wave of sadness started to come over me, because I knew that soon that square in the stage would descend and swallow him up. It would be over.
And so it was. It was like that moment after the Christmas presents are unwrapped and all that is left is to clean up the wrapping paper, drink the residual eggnog and put away the tree. Because of this, I could not give Kris my complete attention. What I remember is thinking that his voice might not be the best or the strongest but that boy can rock a piano and a guitar. While Adam is the rock star, Kris is the musician. And a good one. I understand what the producers are trying to do with the scrim that comes down between Kris and the band, but it just seems a bit silly to me. Kris’ act is already so stripped down, in comparison to Adam’s lights and booms and smoke and sparkle.
Then came the finale and then it was over much too soon. I definitely think that Adam’s set is way, way too short. It didn’t even seem like 20 minutes. Has anyone timed this? Maybe I am just too greedy. Or entranced. It was an Idols show, after all, as much as I wish it could have been the Adam Lambert Show. For me, it still was that, just with a lonnnnnng warmup act.
The crowd was definitely an Adam one, but Kris and Gokey were both close behind. I read somewhere that that nasty pastor called Adam’s reception tepid. Sooooo not that. He must have been sitting among the statues, but even then he should have heard my crew–and the rest of the huge arena.
One more little story. At the after-concert wait outside, I found myself four back from the barricade and feeling like this was a futile activity. The heat of the Arizona day had cooled a tiny bit and from time to time you could feel a breeze. But because we were all pressed against the barricade, the body sweat and heat was nearly unbearable. One woman fainted. We waited an hour and a half before the ever-humble Sarver came out, and then little by little the rest. As I stood there waiting, I thought three things:
1. My feet are numb and my body aches and I am tired and this is ridiculous. I should just go and hope that someone in my group gets the elusive Adam autograph. It’s only a Sharpie scrawl anyway.
2. These other people are as crazy as me. No, crazier. Many were talking as if the Idols were their friends or their children. “I sent Kris a big jar of Twizzlers because he likes them.” “I have gifts of things to take on a trip to keep them busy.” “Matt was mad at me the other night. He said so in a DM.” These people knew every little detail of the Idols’ lives — how Gokey needs a pedicure, how Adam doesn’t like coming outside before the show because it’s so tiring. Then again, so did I.
3. I will get that autograph or die trying.
I must say that Lil signed very few autographs, if she did any at all. I only saw her whizz by, not stopping for any of us toward the beginning of the line from the arena door. She waved and was gone, and I thought, for someone in the bottom six she sure isn’t doing herself any favors.
Allison was also brief, sporadically picking whose thrust out paper or picture she would sign.
Scott, Danny, Sarver, Megan were quite generous with their time. Really saw little of Anoop or Matt. Could be I wasn’t paying attention. Adam was the only one I cared about, I’m not going to lie.
Kris pleased a lot of people when he went directly to the farthest part of the line and began signing there. He never made it to my part toward the front. But by then it didn’t matter. Because the biggest screams and chaos came for Adam heading right to where I stood, four bodies back. It felt like miles. I knew that I had to do the best I could to get that coveted autograph. So as he neared, I readied my Rolling Stone in my glittery hand decked out in thick rhinestone bracelets and black nail polish and I strrrreeeettttched my arm over the bodies of those in front of me and waited. I was so far back that I could not see much of what was going on as he came closer. I describe this as going fishing, where you put your line out with your best bait (in this case, the black nails and sparkly bracelets) and wait for a nibble. And then, I felt that tug, very brief, and pulled my arm socket back into my shoulder and my magazine to my face. And there it was. A Sharpie scrawl in what appears to be AL. Wheeeee! It felt like not only had he signed my magazine, he had held my hand, kissed it and promised his undying love.
As I left the flock at the barricade to look for my crew I could not wipe this huge smile from my face. I marveled at how this simple act, this little bit of ink and the crazy blurry photos I took of the tops of heads and arms and HIM signing autographs could mean so much to someone like me, who has, if I may say so, lived a pretty amazing life.
It seems that Adam’s way of doing things is to go quickly down the line and attempt to sign as many things as he can. So he doesn’t spend much time with anyone in the line and just quickly says things like “Thank you guys!” He did not cherry pick like Allison. He really does make the effort. I FLOVE him!!!
I did see close up his amazing eyes, still surrounded by the colorful and sparkly eye shadow. Men have no right to be this pretty.
I later heard from my crew that he was wearing shorts and flipflops and I wish to God that I had seen that.
It was an amazing time with an amazing star, and I can’t help but think we are now a part of the early days of someone who will surprise us all. I’m glad I was there for the beginning of this great and glittery ride.
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