Where does our personal understanding of “popular music canon” come from? To be sure, it never comes from one source. As we grow up, we become aware of pop music’s pervasive reach through radio, films, social media, friends’ birthday parties, those late-night infomercials for “ALL the greatest hits on 10 discs for just three easy payments of $19.99…” The potential curators who enter our lives are legion. And their respective formats, ideals, and goals always color our understanding of music in a different way.
Historically, the popular music repertoire was generally collected into what is colloquially known as the “Great American Songbook.” These are the jazz, pop, and show tune standards by Gershwin, Porter, Berlin, etc. that have lived on for nearly 100 years and have been performed by literally countless artists. Certainly, I’m aware of many of these songs (though their popularity was somewhat sidelined, or at least lessened, by the rock & roll era). However, my understanding of pop music canon came (for better or worse) from another songbook—a little television show called American Idol.
I was seven years old when American Idol debuted in 2002, though I didn’t truly become a fan until season two a year later. For the next decade—like millions of other TV-watching Americans—I watched every episode, voted hundreds of times for my favorite singers, and held my breath each week during Ryan Seacrest’s dramatic pause (which was definitely longer with each passing season) before finding out whose chance at manufactured success would be cut short.
Yet for all the gimmicks and show business (not to mention ridicule of less developed singers or people with mental disabilities) that went into American Idol—stuff I swallowed whole as a kid but look back with a firm “no from me, dawg”—it’s undeniable how formational the show was in shaping my idea of pop music canon, how important it was in creating a new Great American Songbook (NOTE: Many of the songs performed on the show were not by American artists or songwriters. However, it still was an impressive gauge of American pop culture).
Reflecting on this got me interested in the question, “How did American Idol affect my understanding of pop music history? Or perhaps even more importantly, how did American Idol affect my understanding of what makes music great?”
So what do I do in “a moment like this”? I make a 1,088-song playlist.
This playlist contains every song performed during seasons one through eleven of American Idol by the Top 12 or 13 (depending on the season) plus the songs that were performed on the Results Shows as group medleys or special guest performances, etc. I’ve ordered the songs (loosely) chronologically by release date from the 1920s to 2010s. And though Season 20 of the show premieres next month, I stopped the playlist at Season 11 for a few reasons:
1. It was the last season I watched in full due to dwindling interest.
2. It’s when America’s interest also dwindled, being the first season since Season 1 to have less than 20 million viewers for the finale.
3. Season 11 was the last season to bear a fairly successful musician (Phillip Phillips) and a hit song (“Home,” which peaked at number 6 on the Billboard Hot 100).
So like I said, I wanted to think about some of the ways this canon of music affected my understanding of music history and what makes music great. Below are some reflections I’ve had during this experience. Kieran, dim the lights…
The vocalist is the most important player in music. Because American Idol is a singing show, I grew up emphasizing vocal performance over anything else musically. The band was there merely as a framework to support the true artist. This also meant that certain styles of music (lots of soft rock, adult contemporary, R&B ballads, disco…SO MUCH DISCO) were over-represented, while “less impressive” vocal styles (folk, hip-hop, anything remotely experimental or instrument-heavy) were lessened or absent entirely. This is something I’ve had to unlearn over the years as I’ve explored music more broadly.
Melody! I think my particular love for strong melodies can be traced to this musical upbringing, and for that I’m thankful. I’m glad that I’ve learned to love music’s other elements from texture to rhythm to tempo…but man, I love me a good melody.
Celebrity is good. American Idol was all about making celebrities. And at its peak, the show was very good at it, starting the careers of Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson (who placed 7th! in Season Three), Adam Lambert, Chris Daughtry, and more. And so music was more often handled as a fame-grasping tool, not a beauty-creating, truth-telling art form (though you could catch glimpses of this).
Controlling the narrative. As American Idol grew in popularity, it became a platform that music industry executives could exploit to push their newest stars. In later seasons American Idol alums, new pop stars (Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, Rihanna), and aging veterans trying to hold on to their image (Tom Jones, Donna Summer, Queen) would take the stage to promote their newest singles and gain a new fanbase. Slotting these promotional performances alongside great songs from across pop history created (or in many instances, attempted to create) a halo effect by which these songs and artists could join the Canon.
The revolution will not be televised. Since American Idol was a family show, most of the music performed was “safe.” Music was for entertainment, for some occasional therapeutic crying, and for escape. Needless to say, the show didn’t teach me that music can change lives, can be revolutionary, can point our desperate world toward hope and beauty when it needs it most (though, to be fair, I think some contestants really tried their best to accomplish this!)
The Beatles are still the GOATs. American Idol didn’t acquire the performance rights for Beatles songs until Season 7 in 2008. That season, they did back-to-back weeks of Beatles songs to take full advantage of the opportunity.
(Side note: let’s talk about how performance rights issues like this also helped shape my music canon. I didn’t listen to the Beatles growing up because their music wasn’t available on streaming services or iTunes or most other places I engaged with music. It’s inevitable that music executives have helped shape our musical tastes, but I don’t want to think about that.…)
So anyway, I didn’t notice until now but that’s when I really started getting into the Beatles. The next year another big player in music canon creation—The Beatles: Rock Band—would cement my love of the band. And for that, I’m thankful.Music history is rich. I’ve aired plenty of grievances here. I’ve had to learn or unlearn many things in my decade of life P.A.I. (post-American Idol). But ultimately, the show was a blast, and it taught me that pop music history is rich and far-reaching. The canon the show created was imperfect. Every sort of arts canon is. But the show gave me a springboard from which to dive deep into the vast world of music. For that, I remain thankful.