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An absolute, categorical never
If I wanted to hear two hours of bad singing, I’d record my own voice and pipe it through the stereo. But that’s not why we love the American Idol auditions. In fact, I cringe a bit when someone sings even worse than I do (although it cheers me a bit to know that’s even possible). I hate to see people embarrass themselves, which is why I never watched Punk’d or Jackass (or even Candid Camera). But I don’t hate it quite as much when I see Paula, Simon and Randy laughing and making cutting comments. That’s why I watch the auditions, and thank you, Minneapolis, for providing us with some of the most cringe-worthy singers in six seasons. The judges were so on their game that the most serious and constructive of them was guest judge Jewel, who threw around Randy’s words like “pitchy.”

As amusing as the bad singers are, it’s the success stories, as always, that are the most rewarding. The sixteen-year-old whose parents don’t support his singing, the Army reservist whose husband is in Iraq, the Shakira fan who came to America with her teddy bear and her guitar. All of these are worth ten (entertainment-wise, or course, not as human beings) of the woman (not no girl) who couldn’t remember the words to “Kiss” or the kid who said his range was higher than Mariah Carey’s, or the guy in the cowboy hat (and what was that about?). What’s really nice to see is that Simon genuinely likes to tell people they’re good singers (but only when they are).

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