A couple weeks ago, while my friend Libbie was over, we saw a commercial
on television announcing that Rickey Smith would be in town the first
week of February and we could win tickets to his concert. "Rickey!" we
squealed, grinning at each other. It had been four years since the
second season of American Idol introduced us to the
velvety-voiced Mama's boy described by Simon Cowell as the nicest
contestant of the season; four years since the man Randy Jackson berated
for dressing like his dad pumped his fists, whooping "Hercules!
Hercules!"; four years since his premature departure left teddy bear
Ruben in tears; four years since we headed off to the American Idol
concert in Cleveland with a poster bearing witness to Rickey's
endearing fondness for singing to the ducks in his favorite hometown
park. Four years since Libbie first dreamed of getting to meet her
favorite finalist, and now it looked like she might actually have her
chance.
We never heard anything more about the contest. But
last week, on January 31, Libbie called me before I left for my job at
the mall, informing me that Rickey would be there that afternoon and
wondering if I would be interested in going. I was, of course, so I hung
around after work until she came and met me, and we made our way to FYE
music store together while she worried about what she should say. But
once we got there and ventured inside after waiting to avoid getting in
the way of a group photo with a gaggle of teenage girls, Libbie didn't
have any trouble conversing with Rickey and letting him know what a fan
she was. Her obvious enthusiasm earned her a couple of hearty hugs from
the congenial young singer, who thanked us and asked if we would care to
buy his CD, which cost $5 and featured three tracks. After he signed
our inside album covers, he went off to wander the aisles of the store
while we paid for the album and inquired about tickets.
The
show was planned for 7 p.m. three days later at the auditorium of
Central High School, where my brother attended high school. The clerk
informed us that we could buy VIP tickets if we wanted; these were $20
rather than $8 and included guaranteed seats in the first three rows and
a backstage meeting and photo op. After some consideration, we decided
to spring for the more expensive tickets; even with the $5 service fee,
they were still cheaper than most concert tickets, and we figured it
would be a pretty cool experience. Plus, neither of us had a camera with
us, and we wanted another shot at a picture with Rickey. Because the
tickets had to be paid for with cash, we trotted off to the ATM; twenty
minutes later, we returned and paid for our tickets, which were large
and featured embossed writing. Libbie was especially impressed with
their appearance and suggested we ask Rickey to sign them, so he
cheerily obliged; as we left, he bid us farewell by name.
Saturday arrived to frosty winds that plunged Erie into near-zero
temperatures. By late afternoon, a combination of poor visibility and
frigid air had led to a slew of cancellations for area Sunday schools.
In his conversation with Libbie on Wednesday, Rickey had indicated that
he was getting a kick out of the wintry weather. "I'm country," he told
us, "so Erie reminds me of home. But we don't usually get snow like this
there!" We wondered whether he would retain his high opinion of our
blizzards if the snow caused everyone to stay home that night.
When we got to Central, I dared not take my ticket out of my purse
until we were safely inside the school for fear that the wind would whip
it away. Tucked safely beside it was my camera with a fresh roll of
film. When we approached the ticket table, the woman there didn't know
what to make of our tickets. It seemed she might not have even been
aware that tickets could be bought ahead of time. Luckily, the other
ticket seller had been at FYE that day and not only knew about the
tickets but had remembered us buying them. She ushered us inside, where
we were a bit perplexed to find several teenage girls - the same ones
we'd seen at FYE, as it turned out - singing song snippets on stage as
their families looked on. After 15 minutes or so, the girls and the
crowd near the front dispersed, and Libbie and I made our way down to
the second row. Shortly after we sat down, the girls returned, so that
we were surrounded by these young singers and their families and
friends. We soon discovered that what we were attending was not so much a
Rickey Smith concert as an Erie Idol Jr. contest for which Rickey was a
judge and special guest. A few folks trickled in after we got there,
but the vast majority of people seemed to be there more for Erie Idol
Jr. than for Rickey, so we felt slightly out of place.
Still,
we had prime seats, so we sat back to enjoy the concert. First up was
Chelsea, a 19-year-old emerging recording artist who has evidently been
touring with Rickey. She started her four-song set off with a sultry Black Velvet. Another up-tempo number was followed by a reflective Open Arms, which she sang while seated on a stool in the middle of the stage before getting up again for a hard-rocking I'm the Only One. Then it was time for Rickey, who took the stage for a shivery, soulful rendition of God Blessed the Broken Road.
Throughout the evening, he was very energetic and animated, at times
dancing wildly if the song called for it. His banter with the audience
was very natural, and we chuckled as he confessed that this was a little
more snow than he'd bargained for.
Over the course of eight
songs - one of which he repeated as an encore, asking for audience
participation - he treated us to perfectly pitched falsetto squeals a la
Michael Jackson, contemplative and reverent songs evenly mixed with
high-energy opportunities to show off his exuberance and always the
famous Rickey Smith down-to-earth friendliness. Among the other songs
were Some Kind of Wonderful, an ecstatic duet with Chelsea; the ruminative Ordinary People, before which Rickey revealed that he had once been engaged; a smoothly earnest version of Edwin McCain's I'll Be, which has been mangled by so many American Idol hopefuls; the moving Gospel-country hit I Can Only Imagine, accompanied by the six Erie Idol Jr. finalists with a solo by the girl declared the winner; and the inspirational I Believe I Can Fly, which was preceded by Rickey's recollection of the "Full House moment" with his mom that cemented it as his favorite song.
The Erie Idol Jr. competition occurred after Rickey's fourth song, and
each of the six girls - Chelci Gette and Erica Williams of Fairview
Middle School; Christina Cerezo of the Iroquois School District; Jenna
Sulecki and Kayla Moore of J.S. Wilson Middle School; and Ashley
Criscione of Rice Avenue Middle School - went up and sang a full-length
song, though apparent problems with the backing tracks cut a couple of
them off a little early. Song selections included such overblown ballads
as Reflection (the winning performance), Wind Beneath My Wings and Hero.
The girls ranged from 12 to 14 and had been recommended by a voice
teacher or choir director. All had nice voices and performed well, so it
wasn't an unpleasant diversion, but we would have liked a few more
songs from Rickey, who served as one of three judges determining the
winner amongst the six. While they did not make any comments on
individuals following their performances, they had evaluation sheets, so
each of the girls received suggestions on how to improve.
Aside from Rickey, Chelsea and the girls, there were a couple of
guitarists, a keyboardist and a drummer, plus one person working stage
crew and another running the light board. Last but certainly not least
was the local actor, a congenial gentleman who served as M.C. for the
evening and kept the whole thing running smoothly. I made a note of his
name but it eludes me now, which is a shame because he really was
enjoyable and obviously had a great deal to do with the preparations for
the event.
The show was over by 9, and a quick glance over
the auditorium told me that there couldn't have been more than 100 folks
in the audience, and probably considerably fewer. I blame the weather.
At any rate, when it came down to it our VIP tickets didn't really do us
any good; there were so few people there it seemed everyone could sit
wherever they wanted, and after the show Rickey came out front and
signed autographs and posed for pictures and chatted with whoever was
interested. So that was a rather bitter irony, but we got our picture
with Rickey, and with Chelsea, too, while we were at it, so we weren't
about to complain about the extra expense. Hopefully at least some of
that actually went to him...
All told, the Rickey Smith
concert wasn't quite what we expected, but we got to hear him showcase
him fantastic voice again and demonstrate that Simon's assertions of his
downright decency were not misplaced. Rickey is more than welcome to
come back to Erie any old time he pleases. Next time, we'll try to go
easy on the snow...
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