Defend its Existence

Clay Aiken

by Caralyn Green

On My Way Here (RCA)

Clay Aiken is totally competent at middle-of-the-road balladry and sentimentality, soft rock showtunes that drive preteens and housewives wild. I can get behind that, but if all you know about Clay is his singing (earnest but polished; sanitary enough for church), it’s hard to embrace the guy as some mega-star worthy of your iTunes purchase.

I’ve never watched American Idol. I’m not anti-Idol, though. Like every other nerd I’d wanna invite over for ice cream cake and sangria, I love pop music and am a sucker for televised competition (fashion design, cooking, modeling, dating—bring it on).

But something about Idol has always eluded me. Maybe it feels too late in the game to join the team. Maybe the YouTube videos my friend sends me of David Cook just make me wish he’d leave Michael Jackson alone. Or maybe it’s the fans’ enthusiasm for singers I just can’t seem to respect.

Unlike Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, Aiken’s of the breed of Idols who’ve had trouble crossing over into non-Idol terrain. Because, it seems, to know Clay is to love him (Wikipedia tells me he’s philanthropic, and adorably awkward, and that he has a degree in special ed., which means he must be patient and kind). But as a nonfan, I just don’t know the dude the way his self- professed “Claymates” do.

On My Way Here, Aiken’s fourth full-length studio album, helps with that. It’s a sapfest about finding the real you and all that yadda-yadda about the weight of the world and how faith conquers fear. Cheese, but cheese that seems genuinely good-hearted. Plus, there’s a pretty song co-written with David Foster (he of the St. Elmo’s Fire theme song, not Wallace), and the cover art is totally amazing. Like, when did Clay Aiken borrow Ellen Degeneres’ hair?

Sometimes it’s refreshing to take a break from singers you actually respect, and substitute with singers you wanna get to know over ice cream cake and sangria.