Dead weight sinking stinking ‘Idol’

It's a fate akin to the pretty, popular girl in high school who later becomes the chain smoking Denny's waitress with the raspy wheeze of a winded Ernest Borgnine.

You see, no one really wins on "American Idol," that TV ratings bonanza that has become the greatest argument for sweet, sweet silence since Fran Drescher's laugh.

With the show back for another season, one thing has become clear: Its fruit is beginning to rot on the vine, with hacks like Taylor Hicks, Bo Bice, Jordin Sparks, etc., sinking the commercial prospects of the franchise like the dead weight they are.

Recently, Arista Records dropped "American Idol" season five winner Hicks after but one underperforming album. The same thing happened to Ruben Studdard not too long ago.

This follows in the wake of Kelly Clarkson's having to scrap an arena tour for her latest album, "My December," because ticket sales were softer than Studdard's midsection.

Meanwhile, former "Idol" favorite Clay Aiken's last disc was such a bomb it's now sold exclusively at munitions dumps, and Fantasia Barrino's "career" apparently has entered the witness protection program.

Sure, some Idols are doing well. Carrie Underwood notched a No. 1 debut for her sophomore album last year, and milquetoast rocker Chris Daughtry's debut CD was one of the top selling discs of 2007.

But despite his success on the show, even Daughtry sees the writing on the wall, saying that "American Idol" is "probably not gonna last too much longer" on Rollingstone.com last week.

None of this is all that surprising. The real reason people watch the show has little to do with music to begin with.

No, folks tune into "Idol" for the same reason they watch most reality shows -- because they want to see a bunch of tools make asses of themselves so that they, in turn, can feel a little bit better about themselves.

In other words, the show is pretty much one giant ego massage set to a soundtrack of poorly warbled Gloria Estefan and Tracy Chapman tunes that leave you envying the hearing impaired.

Now, at times, I've been able to see some merit in "American Idol." All major label pop music is pre-fab these days, and with the industry so image conscious, I can appreciate the fact that nontraditional looking types like Aiken and Studdard at least get a chance to succeed or fail on their own merits instead of their appearances.

But that's not nearly enough to validate what's become network TV's sweaty armpit.

God forbid the show goes off the air and record companies have to start developing acts again, you know, actually do their jobs for a change.

That won't happen for now -- the show's ratings are still good.

It's just too bad that we can never say the same about the music that comes from it.

Jason Bracelin's "Sounding Off" column appears on Tuesdays. Contact him at 383-0476 or e-mail him at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com.