Because my dad is a computer person, he made sure we had TiVo as soon as it was available for our satellite system. So I was able to watch and rewatch the performances that I loved over and over again. Not only that, I could even watch the specific moments in a song that I liked most, which meant that I could study every detail of that singer’s arrangement. I took advantage of this to learn a host of new songs that captivated me, and to see how other singers chose to tackle any given song. After each show, I’d run upstairs as fast as I could to our computer room and look up the songs that I’d heard and the ones I was most impressed with from that night. It was as if the first part of my education was to watch the show itself, and the second part was to research what I had seen and heard. I was not just hearing anymore—I was very much listening.
When I carefully think back, it strikes me that a big part of my interest in American Idol had to do with the singers’ desire—their desire to really feel the music and to communicate this to everyone who was out there listening. Sure, you can enjoy songs that play on the radio, but you don’t get the chance to watch the artist perform, you don’t get to see the look in their eyes, or the passion in their expression. In a way, you don’t really get a complete sense of the emotion and feeling behind the performances. But with Idol, the performances come alive in a totally new way, a way that makes them so pure and so incredibly close to the essence of what singing is all about. Also, on the radio the vast majority of what you hear is pop. With Idol, the variety of music totally blew me away. I was introduced to so many different styles and genres of singing. It almost felt like Music History 101, being taught by some of the greatest legendary teachers out there. In time, I wouldn’t just know a handful of classic songs from famous musicals but also some classic Motown, soul and R & B songs, moving through the genres just as the show’s contestants had to do every single week. There was a whole new world of music to explore and with the introduction of Idol into our home, the floodgates were now wide-open.
After the audition rounds, the show would narrow the field down to the Top 30 contestants. For the next three shows, ten performers would sing each night and America would vote through the Top 3 each night and there would be a wild card to choose the tenth finalist. So, I couldn’t wait to see and hear who finally made it and waited with anticipation to hear each group. The very first night of the live shows, the first singer on deck was a girl named Tamyra Gray. This beautiful girl with an even more beautiful voice came out and sang “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” from Dreamgirls. Back then, I had never heard of that song or the musical Dreamgirls, but when I heard her sing that song, it was kind of like a spiritual moment for me. Tamyra came out onto the stage quietly, giving absolutely no hint of the thunderous, soulful outpour that she was about to hit us with. I don’t know how she did it, but she delivered so many different emotions during that performance: passion, rage, love, optimism and commitment—all in less than two minutes! Never mind that she had a great voice, which was, of course, a given; but this was so much more than a demonstration of singing technique. It was a full-on display of pure emotional range. I felt it all, and I could tell right off the bat that she did, too, belting the song out like some sort of musical mission. If I had ever felt that singing could be something special, now I was sure of how sacred it could really be. Her delivery of that song affected me like few things had ever done before, and in that instant, I was learning so much about who I wanted to be musically.
After she finished, I went straight to our computer and hunted around for the song. It wasn’t as quick and easy to find specific music then as it is today and you really had to dig around to find what you wanted. Thankfully, people were recording stuff right off their television sets and posting little musical clips, so I was able to download those, which allowed me to learn many of the songs that struck me.
With Idol, the variety of music totally blew me away.
My dad also came up to help me research “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” because, just like me, he thought it was completely amazing. Luckily, we were able to find the original version by Jennifer Holliday and a couple of other live performances of her singing it over the years. We didn’t know it had been an R & B hit back in the eighties. So I had a new favorite song and the chance to practice it lots of different ways until I found a way to sing it that felt right for me. I sang the song all the time, morning, noon and night. I’d go in the backyard with my cats and sing to them. I always poured my soul into it, even when I was just swinging on the swing set or just walking around our backyard. I literally started to change the way I sang after Idol hit the airwaves, not realizing that I was already starting to sound less like a little kid who was into musicals and way more like these soulful, R & B singers who told entire stories through the emotion and feeling in their songs.
My parents felt that it would be a good idea to capture some of these moments while I was still young, so my dad bought some basic equipment for the computer. This gave us the chance to have a mini- recording studio at home, taking our interest in music to the next level of seriousness. He asked if he could record me singing because he felt that it would be special for us to remember what I sounded like at a young age, knowing that in the next few years my voice would change. He said it was really cool to have recordings of stuff he did when he was a kid and thought that it would be something I would appreciate when I was older if not now. He also pointed out that my style was really starting to develop and by recording me, we’d be able to hear how I was progressing. Though I hated the way I sounded, I understood the point of doing this. Even though I was young, I knew enough to trust my parents when it came to music.
While the excitement of the American Idol season continued, my dad, knowing of my obsession with Natalie Cole, found out that she was scheduled to perform at the prestigious Park City Jazz Festival in Deer Valley, which is about half an hour away from Salt Lake City. He thought it would be fun for us to go hear her perform. We drove to Park City, to the beautiful venue nestled way up in the chilly mountains. I was able to invite a friend with me and although we were probably the youngest people there, I can pretty much guarantee there wasn’t anyone there more excited at the chance to hear my current, favorite female vocalist on the planet! Natalie was the final act, and when she came onstage, I was completely and utterly blown away by all of her classic “Unforgettable”-era standards, as well as her older R & B hits, many of which I was hearing for the very first time. She did an encore version of the U2/B. B. King classic, “When Love Comes to Town,” which totally blew me away. It felt like such an honor to be in the company of such talent, and to this day, I think it was one of my dad’s best-ever ideas.
Recording was a great way to monitor my progress and helped me to develop my style.
And the ideas did not stop there. After the show, my dad looked at me and said, “So what do you think about seeing if you could meet Natalie Cole? Let’s wait and see if we can meet her.” Despite being a little nervous about meeting one of my musical mentors, when he said those words, I was very reluctant. But my dad assured me it would be OK. I think he knew it would be something I would never forget and that could change my life potentially. After much anticipation, Natalie Cole came out and saw us waiting outside her dressing room. It was around midnight; everyone from the audience was gone, and only a few security people were left in the venue milling about.
Despite being totally awestruck, starstruck and freezing, I shyly walked up to her and asked if I could sing her a song. Much to my surprise, she smiled, looked up at my father for a moment and gave us both a yes. I sang my new signature tune “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going,” and I sang it with all my heart! Her beautiful brown eyes lit up while I sang, which was another one of those incredibly special moments that gave me a sense of self-affirmation. Thank you, Tamyra Gray, I thought to myself. Thanks for the inspiration! How could anything be more incredible than this?
A week after I sang for Natalie
Cole, my dad got a call from an enthusiastic neighbor who happened to be watching the Jenny Jones Show and told us that the producers were on the hunt for talented kids. The neighbor asked my dad if she should get more details on our behalf. They agreed, and she called us back a little later with a telephone number for my father to call. He called the show and spoke with a talent producer who said that they were specifically looking for Latino kids with special talents. She explained that the show had many Latin American viewers, so they thought it would be fun to do a show for that demographic. Since my mother was from Honduras and my dad was part Spanish, I was definitely plenty enough Latino that I would fit the bill. “I have an eleven-year-old son who can sing, and I would like to hear what you think about him,” my dad said to the producer on the other end of the line. He asked her if she knew the song, “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going,” and offered to play a recording of me singing it over the phone. She said, “The Jennifer Holliday song, of course I know it!” He played the tape and the woman went completely nuts. This was on a Monday. She asked if we could travel to Chicago on Wednesday to appear on the show. My dad was shocked but excited for me and when I heard I had a chance to go to Chicago, we quickly began planning our upcoming unexpected adventure.
On the airplane, my father expressed concern about my ability to stay brave, given my breakdown at the Utah Talent Competition. He didn’t want to put undue pressure on me, and he wanted to be sure this experience was a positive one. We decided that I would just go out there and give it my all, and that this experience was meant to be fun. No stress, no expectations—simply fun. I told myself that I would do the best I could and keep reminding myself that enjoying the moment, and being grateful for the opportunity, was the most important thing.
When we arrived in Chicago, we were taken to a really nice hotel near the Sears Tower, which was a total treat for me since I had read about it in The Guinness Book of World Records, a book I loved throughout my childhood. Because of how excited I was about this awesome opportunity, it somehow made perfect sense that we were staying near the tallest building in the world. The synergy seemed to crackle magically and everything felt just right.
At the rehearsal, I was up on the stage by myself with the production crew. My father sat in the audience while I prepared for my turn to perform. When it was my turn to rehearse, I just went out there and sang it without any problem. I don’t think my dad expected me to deliver the way that I did, which I bet helped to calm his nerves a bit. He later told me that I sang at the rehearsal as if it were the real show, and that he was really proud of me! I think he was shocked because I hadn’t really sung publicly in months, and maybe he was worried that I would get cold feet at the last minute. I was just eleven and had no clue who Jenny Jones was, but I was going to be singing on national television for the first time, which fueled me with serious motivation and a need to sing better than I ever had before. When it was time to sing for real, Jenny Jones called me to the stage, and I went out there as if it was what I was always meant to do. I took the microphone with my pudgy little hand and somehow just knew what to do.
When this Chicago audience reacted exactly the same way the Utah audience had—with total delight, applause, smiles and cheers—I felt a special tingling sensation inside and started to believe that this was something I could enjoy doing and that surprisingly, people seemed to really not mind my voice. At that age I couldn’t quite articulate what that something might be, but I just felt that I would maybe try this again if I had the chance. It’s not that I was already envisioning a future as a singer, but more that I was getting closer and closer to knowing what my true passion might be all about. And there was no question about it: My passion would have a lot to do with music.
During the show, we went to the green room, where, much to my happy surprise, sitting right there was AJ Gil, the American Idol contestant who’d made it to the Top 8 that first season. I knew every single song he’d performed on the show and really admired his beautiful tenor voice.
To me, this guy was a huge celebrity and I was completely star struck. Here I was on the Jenny Jones Show, sharing a green room with one of the American Idols. This was more than big-time—this was it! I was so overcome with excitement that I couldn’t even find the words to talk to AJ. Fortunately, my dad was there to help me out. AJ was so nice and told me that he loved my performance, as well. Not only did I get the privilege of sharing a green room with a singer who I deeply respected, but I had the honor of hearing him say that I was a great singer, too.
You probably won’t be surprised to hear that when the show aired a few weeks later, I wouldn’t even watch it. Every time my parents played it for someone, I would quickly leave the room. My dad actually had to stand in front of the door one time in order to get me to watch it! He felt it was important that I see myself doing something I used to be afraid of. But whether I watched my performance or not had nothing to do with my commitment as a singer. Even though I didn’t like the aftermath, nothing was going to stop me from singing my heart out when given the chance.
nothing was going to stop me from singing my heart out when given the chance.
When we got home from Chicago, our household was bubbling with excitement due to my recent TV appearance. We realized that the next weekend was going to be time for the first American Idol finale and my dad had something in mind which would put me in front of more than one of my own favorite Idols, including a trip that would take us to Hollywood.
Shortly after our latest adventure on Jenny Jones, my father decided to call his friend Seth Riggs, whom he and my mother had met when she attended the seminar with Brett Manning a few years earlier and for whom my dad had been a computer consultant. He caught Seth up on everything I had done recently, told him that I was really starting to show some promise, and asked if he would be willing to listen to me sing and give us some input on what he thought we should do with me. My parents knew that Seth had worked with a lot of children and they wanted his honest opinion about where I could go from here. Seth was nice enough to agree, and the plan was officially in motion for us to travel to Los Angeles to meet with him.
Now the best part about the rest of this story is that I was clueless as to what my dad was really up to. As far as I knew, all we were doing was going to see Mr. Riggs. What I didn’t know was that my father had secretly bought tickets on eBay for us to see the American Idol finale live in Los Angeles. I don’t think I would have been able to contain myself in the car ride had I known what my dad had up his sleeve. Though he paid upward of two thousand dollars for the tickets, he felt it was justified because it would be a special, once-in-a-lifetime memory for me. We had to drive to Las Vegas to pick up our tickets from the vendor he’d found online. To make friendly conversation, my father casually told the man about my recent Jenny Jones Show appearance, and about how passionate we all were about music. Mind you, I still had no idea, but nothing was going to stop me from singing my heart out when given the chance.
I had no idea who this man was or why we were meeting him. When you’re a kid, I guess you just blindly assume the adults around you have reasons for what they are doing—I was just happy and grateful to be going on yet another exciting trip. After hearing my dad’s stories, the man asked if I would sing for him and his kids. I was still relatively shy but I surprised the group (and maybe even myself) and sang for the mystery man in Las Vegas. I’m sure I would have even taken it up a notch had I known then that he had our tickets to the American Idol finale in his jeans pocket.
We continued on to California to Orange County, where my aunt Lauri lives. We spent that first night with her at her house. I was really happy to be in California and to see the ocean and the beaches. When we got there, we heard about a singing contest where you could win tickets to the American Idol finale up in Hollywood. It was to take place the following day at the Hollywood & Highland Center, home to the famous Kodak Theatre, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. It
just so happened to also be where the Idol finale was!
We knew we had to give it a try. After all, the reason for our trip was all about singing, we were there to meet and take my very first singing lesson from the infamous Seth Riggs (at least that’s what I thought the whole reason was at the time)! He lived just a few minutes away from the Hollywood & Highland Center so it seemed like the perfect plan. The three of us would go meet with Seth first and then head up to the contest and see what it was all about. When we walked into the studio to meet Seth, it was quite intimidating, and a bit scary really because I was particularly shy at the age of eleven. At the meeting and lesson with Seth, he was really positive and helpful. He asked me to sing and also had me making some pretty interesting sounds, which I later learned were considered a part of real voice training. So, mission accomplished, we thought. We were now confident and ready to hit the singing contest later that day.
When we arrived, the outdoor venue was totally packed, crawling with eager singers, most of them way older than me. There was definitely something special in the air that day, and it was by far one of the most exciting things I’d ever seen (and this was just the registration)! Everything felt so overwhelming and fast-paced that I didn’t even have time to think about how nervous I really was. We waited eagerly in line for what seemed like an hour just to fill out the enrollment forms. And to our surprise, when we finally arrived at the front of the line, we were told , “We are sorry. Our minimum age requirement is sixteen.”
Chords of Strength Page 5