A year and a half ago, Clay Aiken sang Open Arms on American Idol
and I became a Claymate, though I don’t think the term had been
invented yet. For the next three months, I rabidly consumed all I could
of his material, gluing myself to the television on Tuesdays and
Wednesdays and downloading all his earlier demos. Though I think my
obsession may have worried my dad a bit, I dragged others to wallow in
Claydom with me. Among them, my aunt Barb, who returned the favor by
snatching up six tickets to see Clay Aiken at the York Fair the day they
went on sale - and sold out - in April. After five long months, I
finally got to see him solo in concert last week. It was worth the wait.
The fair atmosphere was pleasant and the weather was perfect,
a relief since the county had been getting bombarded with the remnants
of Hurricane Ivan. We spent several hours walking around the grounds and
spotting all the different Clay shirts; when we went inside the stadium
I bought two official shirts in spite of the unofficial one I was
wearing. I also picked up a set of buttons, a magnet (though I’d asked
for a keychain) and a program, which boasted a disappointing near-lack
of text but an array of nice photos. Though I was dismayed to shell out
$100 for these souvenirs, I managed to resist the temptation of buying a
disposable camera after I’d had to take mine back to the car. What a
racket…
Unfortunately, my aunt and her boyfriend had to sit
separately from us, but they were directly below us so we never lost
sight of them; Aunt Barb often turned around and waved at us. The
concert was slated to begin at 7:30, but the musicians who took the
stage had nothing to do with Clay; they were a local band by the name of
Ben Jelen. Their musical style was a little loud for my taste, and
their acoustics weren’t so hot. So after half an hour of them, I was
very ready for Clay. But it took another half an hour for him to take
the stage, after many spontaneous outbursts of clapping and “We want
Clay!”
The first we actually saw of him was on a Jumbotron,
doing an advertisement of all things. The ad featured him singing a clip
of Proud of Your Boy, his song from the Aladdin DVD, and
encouraging all the fans to get a copy and support Disney in their
efforts towards kids everywhere. Disney had dredged up all the warm and
fuzzy they could for this commercial, and I know I wasn’t the only one
in the audience wishing the release date was September 15 instead of
October 5.
The concert itself was intermission-free, an hour
and a half of songs from Clay’s album and singles with a liberal
sprinkling of covers. Actually, I think the covers out-numbered the
actual Clay songs, but I can’t say I minded since he always chooses very
high-quality songs to cover. Among them: U2’s Where the Streets Have No Name, Orleans’ Still the One (which he had included on one of his demo albums), Toto’s Rosanna (a rollicking number that, like Cecilia
in Art Garfunkel’s concerts, allowed him a bit of a break and his band a
chance to shine when it became a showcase for the talents of each
individual member), Mr. Mister’s Kyrie (an upbeat song that seemed to be
religious but whose words I had trouble understanding) and Avalon’s You Were There
(a shivery gospel-style song which had him rise through the floor in a
shining white suit and was accompanied by religious images on the
jumbotron). All of his performances were stylish and packed with passion
and energy. And his perfect pitch never wavered, nor did his amazing
holding power, which he made a point of demonstrating on more than one
occasion.
The most blatant of these demonstrations came during
one of my favorite parts of the concert, a montage of five James Taylor
tunes. While I was a little disappointed that no Elton John’s made it
into the concert, this segment made up for it and also introduced me to
the incredible talents of his back-up singers, Jacob, Quiana and Angela.
I was especially impressed with Jacob’s heartfelt rendition of Fire and Rain and the harmonious Sweet Baby James. You’ve Got a Friend
concluded with a contest to see who could hold the last note the
longest. All four had very impressive breath control, but Clay held out
the longest. These three quieter songs were my favorites, but the more
upbeat How Sweet it Is and Your Smiling Face were
enjoyable too. Clay’s rapport with the audience was secured the moment
he took the stage, and he even invited a couple lucky audience members
to come join him in a dance number. Later, a girl from Philadelphia
joined him for Without You, a duet he performed with Kim Locke on
her album. Although she struck me as just a bit cocky, this girl had
quite a powerful set of pipes; Clay seemed very impressed. He was
incredibly chatty all night, and his sharp sense of humor was very
evident, as was his warmth, perhaps enhanced by the fact that his mother
was sitting in the front row.
I confess that I was less than
blown away by Clay’s debut album. Up till now, all my favorite singers
have had their origins in the sixties and seventies, and I’ve found that
I am generally most moved by Clay when he sings songs from that era.
The songs written for his album tended to strike me as overproduced, too
commercial, too contemporary. I was head over heels for the singer, but
I was used to falling in love with songs as well and it wasn’t
happening. Nonetheless, his album has grown on me, and the songs are
much more impressive in concert than on the album. Just seeing him belt
them out with all the enthusiasm he could muster, and without all sorts
of special effects to overshadow his voice, made a big difference. Perfect Day,
one of the first songs in the set, was entertaining because the chorus
had him hopping around the stage to indicate his giddiness. The more
sedate Measure of a Man was enhanced by the skills of Jacob, one
of his back-up singers, on what I believe was the soprano sax. In this
song it sounded more like a trumpet and gave the song a heroic quality.
His impassioned rendering of the inspirational anthem I Will Carry You almost made up for the disappointing (but unsurprising) absence of Bridge Over Troubled Water. I found myself reveling in his performances of Invisible (in spite of its slightly stalkerish lyrics) and I Survived You (in spite of its bitter tone). And it certainly was a treat to hear the triumphant finale of This is the Night, accompanied by clips of highlights from the past year, and the glorious encore of Solitaire, which has probably replaced Open Arms as my most goosebump-inducing Clay song.
I’m just now recovering from semi-laryngitis brought on by this
concert. My mom got into the spirit too, but her voice seemed unaffected
so I must have out-squealed her. In a shrieking contest, I suspect a
crowd of Claymates could decimate a group of banshees any day. We
squealed at the high notes, the extended notes, the mentions of his
mother and of his charity. We cheered when he expressed his gratitude to
his fans and bellowed the words to his choruses at the top of our
lungs. I fear the less enthusiastic members of the crowd probably left
with a bit of a headache. But I think Clay deserved every cheer he got,
plain old Clay who performed all but three songs in jeans and a
button-up shirt. He almost looked like that geek who showed up in
Atlanta once again. There was a lot less superfluous showiness here than
there was on the American Idol tour, and his back-up singers were so
talented I never felt they were an unnecessary distraction from the
person we all came to see.
It’s been more than a year since Clay first emerged from American Idol
a star, and I don’t see that star falling any time soon. At the same
time, he seems perfectly grounded and gracious, able to prevent his
whirlwind fame from stripping him of the qualities that made him so
lovable to begin with. With a spot on the Aladdin DVD, an
inspirational memoir and a Christmas album all on the way in the next
few months, I’m sure I’ll be seeing and hearing a lot more of Clay soon.
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