Laugh At What I Love – Making the Band

American Idol has recently resumed its multi-night assault on Prime Time and while there is a lot of hoopla surrounding its “10th Anniversary”, ratings have been down. It has been so long since I watched non-sports-related network TV that I am always shocked when someone my age or younger takes time to comment on it. Specifically, the Grantland Network devoted an entire podcast last week to covering the start of the Idol season. Granted, Grantland is based in LA, is very showbiz focused, and ‘Idol’ is one of the top rated shows on television. In the big picture, it matters. I don’t particularly like ‘Idol’ but I have a long and storied history of watching reality television driven by aspiring musicians.

Going back to a simpler time, my childhood in the 70s and 80s, television still had deep roots into the variety musical format that drove so much early programming. For me in particular, there were a few standouts:

Variety Shows Hosted by Musicians

The first pop song I ever liked was “Saturday Night” by the Bay City Rollers. They were a typically cheesy late 70s pop band. Naturally, they had a TV show. Back in those days, bands represented cheap and easy content. If they were supposed to be sex symbols, like the Rollers, girls would tune in just to watch them. If the musician had any kind of personality, they could throw a variety show format around them and force them to do celebrity interviews and perform in weak sketches with well known comedians. The Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour was a prime example of this type of thing. But, I’ll never forget “Pink Lady”, two non-English speaking Japanese singers who were given an American variety show where they’d phonetically memorize songs and scripts in English without understanding a word. The show lasted six episodes, but I clearly remember watching them belt out “MacArthur Park”

The Gong Show

Along with other, lesser known imitators, the Gong Show pioneered the Performer/Judge dynamic that evolved, eventually, into ‘Idol’. But, Ryan Seacrest is no Chuck Barris and there is only one Gene Gene the Dancing Machine.

Star Search

Now we are getting closer. ‘Star Search’ was ‘Idol’ without the focus. Each week, over the course of one hour, they featured head to head competitions in singing, dancing, acting, comedy and spokes modeling. It was a cornucopia of broadly targeted talent. I was a devoted watcher for the first two seasons and remember Brad Garrett of ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ fame winning the comedy competition. As I type those words, I realize that even that sentence is dated. Ed McMahon never did finer work. 

All that is to say that I have a penchant for watching ‘Idol’-type reality shows. But, when Idol rolled around in 2002, my heart had already been won by another – MTV’s ‘Making the Band’ franchise. When this show rolled around in 2000, I was ready. I was newly married and my wife and I were still discovering our television common ground. As it turned out, the ‘Real World’ and ‘Road Rules’ appealed to us both, and we were known to spend many a weekend day watching hours-long marathons of both series. Wisely marketing the show to an installed audience, the ‘Making the Band’ promos caught out eye and we were in from the jump. 9 years later, we bid the show farewell, but cataloged a lifetime of memories along the way. The Highlights: 

O-Town

This was the original group formed by the show, tapping into the NSYNC/Backstreet demand for cute white boy dance pop. Lou Pearlman, who had been one of the managers behind both NYSNC and Backstreet, was the mastermind and the show tracked him doing the now standard multi-city open cattle call for talent complete with good and bad tryouts. It’s worth noting that Pearlman is now serving 25 years for operating a Madoff-esque ponzi-scheme, but back then he was simply an idol maker. I recall a few other standard ‘Making the Band’ clichés emerging from this first season; the one band member who has a serious girlfriend/boyfriend despite the fact that they are about to become famous and be dripping in groupies (Ashley in this series); the new band member who doesn’t realize how good they have it and doesn’t want to do the work/misses home and leaves (Ikaika), the driven professional who isn’t as naturally talented as the others but is one of the best through sheer work ethic (Trevor). These guys introduced the world to this new reality form. So what if they were insanely smarmy. Enjoy their Billboard #3 hit, “All or Nothing”…a song I may have sung from time to time while gazing into my own reflection in the mirror.

Da Band

Leave it to Diddy to realize the power of the Making the Band franchise and model. After watching O-Town’s first album go platinum, he knew what a can’t-lose proposition it was. Whether the music was any good did not matter as the audience was built into the show. Who wouldn’t want to buy a record after watching a group evolve over a season or two? Plus, Diddy owning the show meant that Diddy would be a part of it. Like him or not, the man proved to be a riveting screen presence – tougher than Simon Cowell, more credible than Donald Trump, more feared than Kesyer Soze. Over three seasons, he assembled a hip hop crew called Da Band and what a spectacular set of misfits they were. You had Fred from Miami, always sucking a pacifier. Chopper from New Orleans with the mentality of an 8 year old. Dylan, the smooth Jamaican dancehall styler who kept having to go to court and jail for past deeds, and Babs, the fierce female rapper who was often preoccupied with where she was going to get her next weave. What did this cast teach us? Basically, that you can take the kids out of the hood but that’s just geography. Nearly every male member of the group came to blows at least once, Chopper claimed to have banged Babs twice, despite repeated attempts to provide professional mentors, they group was hell bent on self destruction. I never missed an episode. Here’s a clip of Ness and Fred brawling and Diddy calmly trying to explain to them afterwards why such behavior is unacceptable.

Diddy also amped up the heat on the competitors. He would have 10-15 move into the house or apartment knowing that only 5-6 would be chosen, and he’d show up at odd hours with his sidekicks like Harve Pierre or Tracy Waples and make them battle each other. In this clip, Babs, who had been kicked out of the house, has a chance to return and is battling like crazy for her spot with Diddy, in his full hyp-man splendor, raising the stakes after every 16 bar blaze

Danity Kane

After the dysfunction of Da Band, Diddy raised the show to its climax over a five season arc that saw the formation, rise and crash of girl group Danity Kane. This time, the selection process took two seasons which built interest to the point where the group’s first two records went to #1 and went platinum. Unlike Da Band, the women of the group all seemed driven, focused, and willing to listen to Diddy’s Svengali directions. Choreographer Laurie Ann Gibson became dysfunctional mother hen to the girls. They achieved huge success and then it all came crashing down. Aubrey O’Day had emerged as the fresh-faced leader of the group but she started to buck against her good girl image. Despite selling millions of records, they wanted to record their own songs and chafed against Diddy’s dictatorial hand. So what happened? It all fell apart. Here’s a great clip of Aubrey and Diddy fighting. Where’s Diddy now? Still moguling. Where’s Aubrey? Well, after gracing the pages of Playboy, she has continued to grind out a showbiz career somewhere beneath that shine of the MTB platform.

Day 26 and Donnie Klang

If Danity Kane was the zenith, Day 26 was the denouement and Donnie Klang was the hangover. As Danity Kane primed the pump, Diddy turned his gaze to recreating the smooth R&B boy band feel of a Jodeci or Boys II Men. The result was Day 26 and Donnie Klang. Day 26 had a lot of the same problems that Da Band had, namely boys being boys and getting into nasty fistfights from time to time. But, riding in Danity Kane’s wake, their first two albums went to number 1. The drama was caused by band member Q who almost seemed to be depressed and pining for his old hood life working at a fast food restaurant. The series concluded with the band intact and, per the interwebs, they are still together, minus Q. As for Donnie Klang, he was a big white boy who looked a lot like Pauly D from Jersey Shore. While he wanted to be the white chocolate of Day 26, Diddy announced that he was going to put Donnie out solo. Bottom line, the dude just didn’t have the chops but endless unintentional comedy on the show as this clip demonstrates:

And here’s Day26 emphatically saying, “Fuck Donnie Klang”

I spent roughly, 150 watching first run episodes of Making the Band. It wasn’t wasted time. Watching Diddy operate was essentially like getting a management MBA, minus the Cristal and Petron. I loved every minute of it. Laugh all you want. You say Kelly Clarkson, I say Ashley Angel. You say Fantasia Barrino, I say Babs Bunny. You say Adam Lambert, I say D. Woods. You say Seacrest, I say Diddy…need I say more?