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Wednesday, August 16, 2000
Trying to make the cut
AllPop's Stephanie McGrath tries out for 'Popstars' |
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By STEPANIE McGRATH
AllPop
TORONTO - 7:45 a.m. - A few quiet strains of the Backstreet Boys "I'll Never Break Your Heart" echo up John Street, just south of the trendy Queen West area.
I round the corner to see about 80 girls decked out in sparkles, tight skirts, uncomfortable shoes, sparkly sunglasses and a hunger for fame, lined up in front of the Paramount theatre.
Today is the big day, the Popstar auditions. Once auditions throughout major cities in Canada are over, a group of semi-finalists will fight for five spots in a new all-girl group.
Like ABC's "Making the Band" -- which produced the boy band O-Town -- the auditions, cuts and rehearsal process for the group will be filmed and made into a regular series on Global.
I take a quick glance at the line, figure it's not too bad, and run to grab a bottle of juice at a local store. Ten minutes later, as I tug the drawstring on my way-too-revealing dress tighter, I realize that the juice run was a bad idea.
There are at least 30-40 more girls in line now, and the soft strains of popular pop songs have grown into an all-out diva war, with groups at the front of the line trying to drown out the girls at the back.
For a minute, I consider backing out of this whole "undercover pop star wannabe" idea and return to the safe, enclosed environment of the CANOE office. Here in line, everyone seems to know at least one other person, and some girls have brought boyfriends, mothers and sisters for moral support.
Also, the constant diva-war has revealed a disturbing reality: A lot of these girls can sing. Really well. I myself ... can't, at all. I was the one my choir instructor told to "just mouth the words".
I show my ID to the registration people (the rules say you must be between 18-25 to audition) and get in line. I immediately zero in on a tall, pretty, blond girl who is also alone.
"Are you here with anyone?," she asks me nervously, telling me her name is Megan.
"No," I say, and we bond instantly.
A group of three girls wearing tight pants and flashy shirts overhear our conversation and join us.
"Do you know what you're going to sing?," asks a girl I later find out is named Laura.
We tell her we're still trying to figure that out.
Her good-natured friend Melissa starts to chat about "Making the Band", and I tell her I'm completely obsessed with that show (which I am).
"I'm really nervous, I don't know why I'm doing this," I tell Melissa.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Megan tells me, instantly assuming the big-sister role for all of us.
Melissa and Laura have dragged their 16-year-old friend with them for support. She's angry that she can't audition, telling us she would need more than the two lines the audition form provides for us to list previous experience.
"I've recorded a demo, I sing in choirs ..." Her list goes on and on.
She eventually redirects her angry energy into coaching Laura on her upcoming performance.
All of the auditioners have a choice of five songs: "Rhythm Divine", "Ooh It's Kinda Crazy", "I'll Never Break Your Heart", "Dancing Queen", and "Never Ever".
Laura, who is taking this whole process very seriously, decides we should each perform our song for one another.
She breaks into "Never Ever," occasionally interrupted by her blond friend who suggests ways to make it sound better.
Melissa goes next, but Megan and I say we're not ready to sing yet, at least not alone.
I tell them I plan to sing "Ohh It's Kinda Crazy" and that I need them to sing it with me (hoping that a group will disguise the fact that I can't sing). We break into song together and it sounds decent.
Our conversation turns to the real reason why we've decided to audition.
Megan says she likes to sing in the car and dance, so "why not". She's 24, married and works as an ultra-sound technician. When I ask what her husband will think if she does make the cut and ends up on the TV show, she says, "He said no problem".
I tell her I thought it would just be fun to try out. "Why not", I tell her, "I've got nothing to lose." Lies, lies, lies. I feel guilty for breaking Megan's trust).
Meanwhile, Laura has been talking about how her parents don't want her to go away to university and how she's not even sure she wants to go at all, which is causing some problems at home. Her parents want her to pay rent next year, and she has no idea how she'll manage that. Someone points out that if she makes the cut, her rent will be paid, plus, she'll become a pop star. Laura perks up and starts singing very seriously to herself.
8:30 (ish) a.m. - a group of girls at the front of the line are ushered into the building for their audition.
10:30 a.m. - Kiss 92 starts playing pop music, and we all start to dance. Megan, Melissa and Laura know all the words to all the songs. I know some of the choruses. I sing along in order to fit in. It's starting to get very cold.
Streams of girls start exiting the Paramount and a new group is ushered into the theatre. We get close to the front of the line right before the security guard closes the door.
11:30 a.m. - We're all cold, and the need to use the bathroom has become crippling. We're also getting hungry. None of us has had anything to eat yet. Melissa and Laura say that's because they don't want to throw it up during the audition. The wind picks up, and all the auditioners realize that wearing trendy summer clothes might not have been such a good idea. Girls huddle in groups and jump up and down to stay warm.
A tall girl behind us tries to join our now-tight group.
"Instead of Popstars, they should call this Popsicles. That's my opinion, anyway," she says.
We turn, smile politely and turn back around.
"I said, instead of Popstars, they should call this Popsicles, you can quote me on that." I spin around, wondering how she discovered that I was a reporter, but she just keeps going and starts laughing saying "Get it?"
This will not be the last we see of Popsicle girl.
12:00 p.m. - We're hungry. There's barely any singing going on at all now. A girl next to me flags down an ice cream vendor and grabs a Popsicle. I'm too cold for ice cream but the hope of a hot dog vendor in the near vicinity causes me to jump up and down, looking over the crowd looking for a sausage man. No luck.
1:00 p.m. - I have to pee so badly. That is the only thought in my mind.
Megan is hunched down on the ground. Laura looks depressed, Melissa just keeps humming "Rhythm Divine". None of us would last long on "Survivor".
A group of girls behind us strikes up a conversation and uses my back as a table to fill out their audition forms. One of them tells me that it will be another 45 minutes before we can go in.
I tap Megan on the shoulder and tell her the news.
"What! Who told you that?," she says springing up from the ground. The rumour turns out to be fact. Someone in charge told the girls at the front of the line. We're all depressed.
2:00 p.m. - We've made it inside! It's a bit warmer and the bathroom is only an escalator ride away. Or so we think.
We go upstairs and are again ordered to line up.
"You can use the bathroom after you've registered," says a very unsympathetic organizer. We line up again.
Megan, Melissa and Laura are ahead of me. Megan shows her ID again, signs her audition form, which is then witnessed by another "official Popstars" person, and turns to me.
"You, me, bathroom," she mouths.
I quickly flash my ID and sign my form, then we make our way to the now very crowded Paramount bathroom.
Afterwards, we primp, along with every other girl who's in our audition block. Lip gloss, foundation and hairbrushes are more numerous than popcorn kernels at the theatre today.
We go back downstairs, grab a smoothie, and stick numbers to our arms. I'm 313.
We're ordered to line up in numerical order. I've been separated from my group and find myself sitting next to none other than Ms. Popsicle Girl herself.
"My blood sugar is getting low," she says.
I nod and pray that the "Popstar/Popsicle" jokes are done for the day.
In front of me are two very talented singers.
One is telling the other how some girls trying out are "just a joke" and goes on to explain how a better way to run the audition process would be to send in demos and head shots and let the judges then pick from those.
This girl knows the business.
She starts to sing. The thought of singing after her makes me want to crawl into the ground and die.
2:30 - We're all filing into the theatre. About 100 girls fill the seats. Three judges -- a Kiss 92 DJ, a record exec and a man we're told will be the new girl-group's manager -- stand at the front of the room.
We're told groups of five will come down to the front of the theatre underneath two spotlights. Each girl will have a chance to sing the chorus of one of the five song choices. Then,they'll go off to the side and wait to see if the judges want any of them to stay behind for another audition.
Popsicle girl is sitting next to me in the overly air-conditioned theatre.
"Instead of Popstars, they should call this Popsicles," she says to the girl on her other side.
She gets no response, so I feel badly for her and try to start a conversation.
"So which song are you singing?," I ask.
"I don't like any of them," she answers. "I don't like pop music or listen to it, so I'd never heard any of the songs before!"
I decide I'll be better off not asking her why she's auditioning for a pop group, and start paying attention to the auditions.
It looks and sounds like a painful experience. The judges look uninterested and cut most of the girls off before they're finished.
Some of the girls are surprisingly bad (which comforts me).
Some look fantastic but sound terrible. Others sound great but are plain-looking.
No call-backs are chosen from the first group. The Kiss DJ walks over to them and says, "Thank you but we won't be asking any of you to stay behind." The first five scurry out of the theatre.
A dozen groups and a million renditions of "Dancing Queen" later, there are only a hand-full of call-back girls waiting in the wings.
Then, a group of what my boyfriend would describe as "Hoochie Mama" girls, wearing leather tops and too much makeup, make the second cut after gyrating their hips to the tune of "Dancing Queen." Now it's my group's turn.
3:00 p.m. - My audition. I have to go first out of our group of five. Megan and Laura have already sung, but neither of them were asked to stay behind.
I step up and say "Hi, I'm Stephanie" and prepare to break into "Ooh It's Kind of Crazy". A TV camera is shoved in my face. Just before I open my mouth to sing, I remind myself that there is no need to be nervous, I don't want to make the group anyway. But the second it's my turn, I start to shake.
I shut my eyes and start to race through the song. Halfway through I realize I forgot to take a breath before I started to sing. I stop in the middle of my song and take a gasping breath of air before finishing on a very out-of-tune note.
I open my eyes, and the judges smile politely and say "thank you" in a very unimpressed way.
The girl who sings after me is the same girl who was talking about demo tapes and head-shots. She's amazing.
Melissa sings last. She sounds great and I give her a thumbs-up as she finishes and comes over to stand beside me.
The only one chosen from our group was the girl who sang after me (yes, the same one whose voice made me want to crawl into the ground and die of embarrassment).
Melissa looks slightly disappointed, and we walk out of the theatre together.
Laura and Megan are waiting for us. We all hug and say goodbye and promise to meet up at the next open audition.
Then we all go our separate ways, our hopes of pop stardom dashed, at least for the day.
Auditions will be held again Thursday (Aug. 17) at the Paramount theatre in Toronto.
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