I began writing this article before I knew that David was scheduled to appear on this week’s Idol results show. The premise of the article was that perhaps the recent relative quiet in Archuland was a time for reflection, and may have been serving as such even for David himself. I speculated the possibility that, in the two-year period since David found himself winning the largest television audience in the world and courting some of the most devoted fans on the planet, he may not yet have had a real opportunity to unpack what had actually happened to him. One learns (perhaps most) in the doing, but taking stock is vital, too. Maybe in this relatively quiet time, I thought, he may have finally had that opportunity.

I think it’s safe to say there has been some serious reflection indeed.

Some find fortune. Others have fortune thrust upon them. I’ve often wondered to what degree David was complicit in the creation of his own fate. I think the general consensus has been that if it weren’t for others egging him on, encouraging (among other things) him to put his talent on display, the voice of David Archuleta might still be confined to the room at the top of the stairs after a long workday at the local audio-video store. The television show “Glee” has tried to profile the unwitting talent, the one who has “the calling” thrust upon them, but somehow I can imagine even the most reticent Gleester belting out tunes in their bedroom with a firm vision of the audience just beyond in the dark, and vivid fantasies of fame and fortune. Whether David was unwitting or complicit, he has never betrayed a hunger for an audience nor an explicit desire for fame and fortune. On the contrary, in fact, he seems to have wanted nothing so much as protection, not exposure.

In the midst of this enormous trajectory of professional and personal growth, David has also sought shelter and comfort in a dimension of his life that offers a constancy and structure absent elsewhere. That dimension is, of course, his faith. It isn’t hard to understand how someone with David’s sensitivity would seek asylum from a world of weakness, vipers and vulgarity. Who could blame him? The desire to be tethered to something sacred, to be in the world but not of it, is understandable and admirable. But religion itself can sometimes serve as a substitute for objective inquiry and self reflection, substituting a host of apocryphal fables and arbitrary regulations for true spiritual development. I am not suggesting that David has fallen victim to this risk (we are sure to know more on this subject when his book drops), but there has always been a question for me regarding the degree to which David might be seeking retreat from himself. In particular, from his own power.

The discovery of one’s own power can be one of the most surprising aspects of accomplishment. And power can be frightening, even — and especially — when it’s your own. Anyone of any insight who has followed David closely realizes that his experience with the adjudication of power in his world has been, at best, a very mixed bag, and, at worst, a series of tragic disasters. It should come as no surprise, then, that David’s own formidable power — as evidenced by everything from the sporadic instances of truly unbridled performance moments to a reported stubborn streak a mile long — may well be the source of real apprehension for him. How does one adjudicate the power to hire and fire people, never mind the power to make people weep and scream and faint?

The one form of personal power with which David is obviously most comfortable is his voice. And yet, it is the remarkable control he exerts over this power, his instrument, that produces some of its most tantalizing effects. Indeed, it is often not the expression of power but the implication of it that creates excitement for an audience. This is something many contemporary performers don’t seem to realize. Of course, the power has to really be there, it can’t be a ruse or else it won’t play as a genuine threat. From where I sit, David implies far more power than he has ever actually expressed, and I have no doubt whatsoever that it is all really there. Every bit of it. The tension between implication and expression, between control and release, is what great music (among other things) is made of.

In the short span of a week, many of these persistent questions about David’s relationship to his own power have begun to be answered. If David wasn’t entirely complicit in the formation of his role as a performer, he is clearly taking the reins now. As always, David is nothing if not methodical. Those of us with a good deal more impetuosity in our nature can become awfully frustrated watching someone abide when action might be taken. But David is on David Time, not Rascal Time or Jive Time or even Earth Time. The upside is that when decisions are made in David Time, they are definitive, uncompromising, and sure. They are powerful.

The new adjudication of power is evident in David’s latest performance of “Imagine.” Relaxed, expressive and genuine, this performance is deceptive in its simplicity and extremely subtle in its new evocation of strength. David will always be the kind of singer whose charms and wonders appear to those who accept his invitation to connect. David doesn’t grab you by the scruff of the neck and drag you into his world, but merely shows you a door. It’s up to you to come in. In the earlier versions of “Imagine,” I think perhaps David hadn’t quite realized what his role was inside that world. I suspect he thought he was the entertainment. Now, I think he realizes that he is the host.

I’ve seen as much real power emanating out of David Archuleta this week as in the past two years combined. As with everything Archuleta, it is subtle but unmistakable. There is a new confidence, an assertiveness, that feels entirely genuine. David isn’t trying on some new attitude for size. This new expression of strength is deeply grounded, obviously the result of long and careful consideration and fertilization. And it’s not going unnoticed, either. Observe Simon Cowell’s expression as David is talking with Ryan onstage after the performance. Note that Kara DioGuardi, also in the frame, has that typical “aw, isn’t he adorable” look on her face, but Simon is plainly intrigued with the new Archuleta. He’s got that “well now, what have we here…?” expression.

I’ll tell you what we have here: New management. A new album. A new haircut. And a new and very exciting supervisor of the David Archuleta phenomenon: David himself.

– Rascal

[audio:http://www.thedavidchronicles.com/audio/Think_of_Me.mp3]

I haven’t written much about the studio recordings because for the most part I don’t really like them. They rotate the kids through the studio as quickly as they can and it always sounds it. The cuts from a technical standpoint are generally professional (although some of my audio engineering colleagues have even questioned that aspect), but they invariably feel rushed and incomplete from an artistic standpoint. You can’t really win with this Idol set up: The live performances are better but too brief, while the studio performances are longer but fall far short of their potential.

In David’s case, my feeling has always been that he just hasn’t had the benefit of the right studio producer, one who knows what he’s capable of and how to get it. The energy of a live audience is enough to drive the dynamics of his performance into a realm of intensity that he has yet to achieve in the studio. David’s current tendency seems to be to “lay back into the lovely,” with his instrument, and although possibly a wise tactic in the midst of a long competition where vocal stress is a constant risk, it nevertheless compromises his power in the studio; on the bigger songs especially.

What we hadn’t really had until Think if Me was a song of such intimacy that David’s current studio tendencies really pay off. It was difficult at first to get past the insanely sentimental arrangement–complete with overdone glissandos, sappy violins, and a freakin’ harp for God’s sakes (I think a hiring criterion for American Idol arrangers must be a predilection for extra cheese)–but gradually I was able to appreciate what David himself had accomplished with this one, and it is quite remarkable.

His voice has never sounded better. Clear, rich, resonant, and in a strange way both round and sharp. There isn’t a hint of labor in this performance. Like Fred Astaire, whose legendary commitment to practice and craft made his flawless performances seem so utterly effortless, David sings as though a pure conduit for the plaintive heart of the song. He channels the music more than he performs it.

Ironically, though perhaps not surprisingly, David’s musical crafting is much smarter than the arrangement. The sophistication of his musical intelligence might be most evident in the melodic variations from “imagine me, trying too hard…” (at 1:43) through to “…think of those things we’ll never do…” (2:01). With all the riffing and melisma going on in popular music today, it is extremely challenging to come up with unexpected choices, but David does it with an unerring ear for restraint.

I was gratified to learn in a recent interview with Dean Kaelin, David’s voice coach, that David and his team were not terribly thrilled with the arrangement, either. They had apparently been lobbying for a jazzier, more contemporary treatment. Doesn’t surprise me in the least, and gives me hope that when the industry gets a hold of him, that he won’t capitulate his instincts to their greed. David must have had at least some impact on the ultimate approach used for the live performance (which comes after the studio recording in the weekly production sequence), because Tuesday night’s arrangement was perceptibly less saccharine than the studio version (note the dissonance added to the guitar intro for starters).

It’s incredibly easy to go overboard with R&B-rooted genre stylings but David never does (even despite encouragements in that direction from notable producers like Randy Jackson). David has what so many gifted entertainers often lack: taste. I’m convinced this is the reason that his detractors find him “boring.” These are the same people who find boring the sumptuously subtle in any artistic form. These are the people, God bless them, who don’t even notice something unless it’s completely over-the-top. There is plenty of bombast in American popular entertainment today. I’ll take my David Archuleta without all the extras, thanks.

Rascal

The human dilemma has always been our innate sense of perfection combined with a vivid awareness of our distance from it: our knowledge of the fall from grace, to put it in the vernacular of this album’s topic. There are those for whom an analysis of the proximity to perfection only emphasizes the curse of our distance from it, and those for whom it emphasizes the blessing of our having a sense of perfection in the first place. I am in the latter category. I tend to notice what’s missing. I undertake a critical analysis of Christmas From the Heart also because it represents, according to all reports (including the liner notes from the singer himself), the closest we have yet gotten to who David Archuleta is as an artist and indeed as a person. If ever there was a moment to take him seriously, this is it.

Ships in the Night
The difficulty in trying to evaluate David’s work at this stage of his career is that he is not yet surrounded by talent that is equal to his own. The production people currently available to him are by no means slouches — Emanuel Kiriakou is a very successful (if not entirely distinguished) producer, for example — but neither are they of David’s caliber. This tends to result in either David sublimating his talents to the requirements of the producer (or the material), or in a disparity between performance and production.

There is obviously much to be happy about in Christmas From the Heart. David’s vocal work is remarkable in many ways, and the arrangements are certainly sumptuous and even inspired in touches. Kurt Bestor’s “Ave Maria” and “Pat-a-Pan” are clear standouts, and it’s great to hear David take on classic material and even a few charming lesser-known pieces. Most engaging, luminous even, is David’s overall approach to the material.

Anandamayi Ma, "Blissful Mother"

These are cherished songs for him, and in a stroke of genius that was undoubtedly instinctual, he treats them like love songs. I am reminded of the way people spoke and wrote about Anandamayi, the 20th century Indian mystic and spiritual teacher, a woman of intense beauty and great wisdom who devoted her life and energy to God. She is described as being in a constant love relationship with Him, and brought to the world a resplendent tenderness that touched everyone she encountered. I think David is in that same relationship. He treats the more religious songs like love songs because indeed they are love songs. Songs of the beloved One.

I only wish that a better understanding of what David was up to had been conveyed in the production that surrounds him. Even aside from the spiritual aspects, from a purely musical perspective David was obviously going for a great deal of intimacy and simplicity with his vocals. Why then, in the name of heaven, does virtually all the production work accomplish precisely the opposite effect? The enormously elaborate arrangements sound as if they were meant for the Metropolitan Opera House, while David is singing with a gentle tenderness like it’s him and the baby Jesus alone in a manger. Despite its many pleasures, the central problem with Christmas From the Heart (and it’s a big problem, at least for me) is that the approach of the artist and that of the production are at significant odds with one another. And the results compromise David not insubstantially.

Much of the album suffers from a heavy handedness that has the unfortunate effect of burying David’s incredibly nuanced vocals to all but those who really listen beyond the extravagant production. “Silent Night,” which contains some unique and really lovely arranging work by Richard Parkinson and Sam Cardon, is suffused with more orchestral gravitas than a James Cameron movie. “What Child Is This,” also arranged by Parkinson and Cardon, begins quite promisingly (if not at quite the degree of simplicity it might), and David does some of his best work here… the vocals are stirring, riveting… but then, with the orchestration at the second verse, it’s as if we’ve been thrust into a glider soaring over the Serengeti watching stampeding antelope while Meryl Streep delivers a eulogy.

I’m not suggesting that David’s voice can’t handle such extravagance, but when you’ve got the sophistication of an Archuleta vocal, especially one where the obvious intent is a close and personal communion of the spirit, it is a contemptible crime to drown it in layers of grandiosity.

Orchestral software reportedly used for CFTH

And not even real grandiosity, mind you, but in most cases synthesized grandiosity (only Kurt Bestor’s few tracks contain a live orchestra recording, of the Prague Philharmonic). It is ironic that synthesizers replace a cost-prohibitive orchestra when the approach of the artist might have been better served by small group accompaniment, both affordable and real.

Follow the Voice
Let us consider for a moment two of the performances in the Archuleta canon that have galvanized audiences far beyond his core constituents: “Imagine” and “Contigo en la Distancia.” The common denominator of these two, apart from the fact that both were live rather than studio takes, is the accompaniment of what is essentially a single instrument (violins emerge toward the middle of “Imagine,” but with enormous restraint). David Archuleta’s voice has so much subtlety of expression that its impact is most intense when accompanied by smart, elegant arrangements, not a wall of sound better suited to the 360 voices of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Lest anyone think I am suggesting the extreme minimalism of, say, the lone guitar on “Contigo en la Distancia,” I don’t necessarily mean that at all. There are ways to incorporate meaningful orchestral accompaniment without having it feel like a sweeping movie soundtrack, a style that is just all wrong for this vocalist singing these songs in the way he chose to interpret them.

To all producers here and now and forever more who work with David Archuleta: Follow The Voice. Follow The Voice, follow The Voice, follow The Voice. Shall I say it again? Follow The Voice. David has, for the most part, unerring instincts regarding how his instrument best interprets material. My one and only equivocation in this has always been his tendency to leave a certain scope of dynamics outside the studio room door, relegated to the stage alone. This self-limitation has never been more in evidence than on Christmas From the Heart. Had he brought some of his stage-style energy to the vocals, the mismatch with the monumental arrangements might not have been so pronounced, but that would have been a case of the horse following the cart. I do think, however, that even on a production more complementary to David’s own quieter inclinations, that a few strategic moments would benefit thrillingly from his onstage power (my kingdom for a producer who can get that into the recording booth).

It’s hard to know how this profound disconnect might have come about. Perhaps David’s own producers failed to listen to him — not to what he says, but to how he sings. Had they listened — really listened — I can’t imagine they would have gilded the lily so strenuously. Perhaps they were showboating, or just lacking the necessary taste to pull off a level of sophistication that would have been more in keeping with David’s own work. It is even possible, I suppose, that it was David himself, whose well-known ambivalence about his skills and the sound of his own voice might have led to a desire to pile on the layers of orchestration… But when asked in a recent interview about the Utah contingent of producers on the album, he had this to say:

There were a lot of people in Utah who were passionate about the project and wanted to make sure the music told the story the best it could and had as much emotion.

Hmm. As we all know, David has a sense of respect and diplomacy that can render him speaking in a kind of code, such that in order to discern any real opinion one must undertake a fairly deep reading between the lines (a risky proposition, to be sure). To me, this comment conveys quite convincingly that the “emotion” supplied through the arrangements was in fact instigated by the producers, not by David. I won’t go so far as to suggest that I’m hearing, “It’s their fault!” here, but in a vocal arrangement the emotion is supplied not by the accompaniment but by the singer. The story is told in the voice, and the orchestration should be in service to the vocal, not the other way around. And while we are reading between the lines, we might consider the implications of this particular comment, in response to a question about the instrumentation that may be deployed for the tour:

I really feel like real instruments and the live feeling add so much to the music, and to those arrangements, especially.

I’m gonna go out on a limb, here, and interpret this as a thumbs-down from David on synthesized orchestras.

An Ornament
My personal grief is based around the disappointment of a missed opportunity. The material that comprises Christmas From the Heart was the ideal chance to allow David’s voice to shine with unequivocal splendor. Instead, the producers somehow got the idea that a canned version of an orchestra the size of Texas was needed for splendor. David is clearly the only one in the entire enterprise who realizes that bigger is not always better; everyone else needs to study the phrase, “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” From a certain angle, it was a near miss. Had the delicate tenderness, the glowing intimacy, the evanescence of David’s beautiful vocal work been followed more closely, with more accuracy, more reverence, we may have had an album of true distinction; of real and lasting consequence. Alas.

But let me not leave the ardent fan with the impression that I think there is little here to enjoy. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if “Pat-a-Pan” got radio play; the more secular numbers in general are lovely, and if one can listen past the production on the more spiritual songs, there are sublime rewards. Christmas From the Heart will undoubtedly live quite nicely in the holiday music collection, to be cherished among family traditions the way a treasured ornament brings a sentimental joy. But it might have been the star at the top of the tree.

– Rascal

It is no secret that at certain times in certain quarters, certain factions of the fan base can allow their hormones to get the best of them and express in commentary certain, shall we say, observations and interests regarding David. Physical appeal is a significant and legitimate aspect of many popular performers, and when it accompanies truly remarkable talent, it is virtually impossible to discount the power of the total, well, package.

It would be senseless and unnatural to make a pretense of avoiding the obvious sensuality that attractive performers embody, but in public commentary tone matters. Tone — that somewhat elusive synthesis of language, attitude and intent — makes the difference between a laugh and a cringe, and the line between them is not only delicate but often subject to opposing and equally legitimate interpretation. That’s why it makes sense to err on the side of caution. A good rule of thumb for evaluating tone might be this: If it’s a wink, it’s probably okay; if it smacks of anything like heavy breathing, reconsider.

Some argue that because David himself is especially modest and not currently selecting material or making displays of overt sensuality (at least not consciously), his fans ought to conform to what may seem like a narrower set of standards than what might be considered culturally common. I think this argument has merit, and fans would do well to consider it. But by the same token, an artist has no more right to expect his audience to change their morays on his behalf, than the public would expect him to change on theirs. Respect goes both ways.

Others suggest that objectification has no place whatsoever in the appreciation of an artist like David, whose central power is acknowledged to be a deep emotional, even spiritual connection between the performer and the audience. I would argue that it is impossible to remove objectification from adoration, even if that adoration is purely platonic. There exists in any fan-artist paradigm an endemic aspect of objectification. The problem, it seems to me, occurs when the point of the exercise becomes objectification itself, rather than acknowledging that it is merely part of a greater whole. Surely there have been comment sequences on many fan sites wherein the point of the exercise seemed suddenly to veer quite exclusively in a less wholesome direction, but I think this kind of thing needs to be seen in context with the larger trajectory of a fan’s participation and expression. For every comment made about David’s indisputably handsome thighs, it is reasonable to assume that there were hundreds of comments made by the same fan about David’s inarguably miraculous voice. Context matters, perspective counts.

Is there disrespect involved in the occasional appreciation of his beauty as a member of the human species? In general I think not, although it depends on how and in what context it is expressed. I have found precious few examples of fan commentary that I felt sunk to the level of creepy prurience. The vast majority of it is bawdy, silly hilarity that breaks out over a particularly appealing photograph or a series of creative innuendos. This kind of repartee is admittedly not for everyone, but neither does it stand out as a categorical offense against common decency or against David himself. These episodes might not be the best examples of what a serious fan might have to offer, but not every facet of what is appealing about David exists in the high-minded realm of spirituality, either. Although there is arguably a spiritual dimension to almost everything David sings, he doesn’t confine his material to church music. He sings about love and attraction, and these topics have a decidedly sensual aspect to them.

For me, respecting David means taking him seriously as an artist. I dare say a far greater number of David’s fans are guilty of transgressing this particular tenet than any other. Squealing about how cute he is may not be overtly sensual, but it is nevertheless a focus on the physical. And the all-too common practice of using childish language, infantile pet names, and blatant nannying can be just as cringe-worthy as a tactless  reference to sex appeal. In my view, this puerile reduction compromises his ability to be taken seriously considerably more than admiring how his body moves. If treating David like a sex symbol is at one extreme on the respect meter, then coddling him like a precious child is on the other, and both are equally indictable.

Fans must make their own decisions, of course, about where they feel comfortable participating. But I would urge those who have differing views about what is appropriate to resist allowing their judgment to extend to other fans, and especially to the sites that facilitate open discussion. Due to the resources needed for aggressive comment moderation, the categories for such interference are commonly limited to things like hate speech and personal attacks. Each site has different guidelines about what is considered appropriate and inappropriate from a topic standpoint, so it makes sense to review those guidelines periodically.

Most important, however, is to remember that administrators in a fan site community are generous volunteers, not professional editors, publishers, or gatekeepers. It is up to everyone to take responsibility for the tone and tenor of the comment threads, and for the community to police itself. Blaming a site for what one may consider the bad behavior of a handful of members is tantamount to killing the messenger; just because a site may contain mentions of a certain nature doesn’t mean that that’s what the site is about. If you encounter something you don’t like, participate. Make a reasoned, rational, compelling argument, leave personal judgment aside, and help turn the direction of the commentary onto a new path.

Sensuality is a rich and wonderful part of life. The fact that David is so modest and inexperienced about such things not only sets him apart from his professional peers, it can’t help but make these aspects of his persona that much more intriguing. It is exciting to contemplate what a wellspring of artistic opportunity David has in these dimensions of the human experience, and what might ensue when he starts to mine them. He has barely scratched the surface, when other artists of his ilk have already plumbed the depths and scaled the heights. I do think we need to take our cues from David in this regard. But anyone who believes that he hasn’t already started letting out some rope on this, whether intentionally or not, is not watching very closely…

–Rascal

Being the slightly obsessed Archie that I am, one of my first thoughts upon hearing of the death of Michael Jackson was concern for David. How would he manage having to be onstage just hours after learning of the death of one of his icons, a primary source of his own musical inspiration? I was gratified to see, this morning, that David not only powered through his performance last night, but also shared a moment of tribute to Michael and sympathy for his family. I also got to thinking that Michael probably represented for David considerably more than musical inspiration alone, significant as that might be. Even if it was subconscious, I suspect there was a strong sense of identification with Michael on David’s part, due to some unique and undeniable similarities between them.

The shared experiences of Michael Jackson and David Archuleta go well beyond a prodigal talent that was capitalized at a young age. Both soulful pop princes with an obsession for the music charts, they have each expressed a deep sympathy for children and a predilection for childish indulgences. David has confessed to being reclusive and remote at certain points in his young life, a trait that Michael Jackson cultivated into an art. Even an association with controversial religions is a shared aspect. Like David, Michael had a gentle, soft demeanor that was associated with both feminization and ambiguous sexuality. In Michael’s case, he augmented that impression with a perpetual evolution toward physical androgyny. And both artists shared the experience of selfish, severe fathers who were at once responsible for their sons’ musical opportunity, and the cause of much of their emotional turmoil.

In later years, Michael (as well as a number of his siblings) was candid about the impact of his father’s behavior on his life, and much has been revealed through biographical investigations. The always incisive and occasionally controversial Andrew Sullivan summed it up this way:

There are two things to say about him. He was a musical genius; and he was an abused child. By abuse, I do not mean sexual abuse; I mean he was used brutally and callously for money, and clearly imprisoned by a tyrannical father. He had no real childhood and spent much of his later life struggling to get one. He was spiritually and psychologically raped at a very early age – and never recovered. Watching him change his race, his age, and almost his gender, you saw a tortured soul seeking what the rest of us take for granted: a normal life.

But he had no compass to find one; no real friends to support and advise him; and money and fame imprisoned him in the delusions of narcissism and self-indulgence. Of course, he bears responsibility for his bizarre life. But the damage done to him by his own family and then by all those motivated more by money and power than by faith and love was irreparable in the end.

The circumstances of Michael Jackson are ultimately tragic, even as he brought joy to more people at one time on the planet than perhaps any other performer in history. Reading about his life at the end of his life made me sad for Michael, but heartened for David. For even in light of some unusual similarities, the fundamental differences are, I believe, more profound.

The fact that David was not an international superstar by the age of eleven confers enormous advantages upon him. David was nearly an adult by the time his star truly began to rise, and even though his childhood was by all indications far from ideal, at least he had one. Whether because of its early seduction in his life or because of some innate character trait, fame and its trappings were an opiate for Michael Jackson. Maureen Orth, author of the infamous Vanity Fair article on Jackson, reported last night that he spent considerable resources seeking to be accorded lifetime achievement awards all over the world. That kind of behavior is about as antithetical to the nature of David Archuleta as one can possibly get. Can you imagine David actually seeking accolades? He can barely endure the ones he already gets.

David has taken a host of similar challenges and opportunities, traits and circumstances, and appears to be molding them in a fundamentally different direction than did Michael Jackson. In stark contrast to his idol, I imagine that David would be perfectly content if all the fame and money (such as it is), disappeared tomorrow. While Jackson’s burning desires were as much about renown and power as they were about music, David’s values are decidedly more focused and grounded. And because, unlike Michael, David is not the type to be seduced by sycophants wielding all manner of ego fertilizer, I am optimistic that the control he exerts over his own fates and fortunes will increase rather than falter as time goes on, and that his focus and his values will remain grounded, even as he soars to greater and greater heights of artistic and professional achievement.

–Rascal

It’s hard not to feel protective or defensive of an artist about whom you feel so passionate. It’s also hard not to make comparisons, almost always a misguided proposition. That’s why when Adam Lambert appeared on the cover of Entertainment Weekly toward the end of the season eight American Idol competition as the crown certain, I couldn’t help but feel a little tweaked that David hadn’t gotten similar press love when he was in precisely the same position. But then again, I quickly told myself, EW never liked David. Or, more accurately, never got David.

Neither do I put much credence in the opinions of that publication anyway; the editorial staff reminds me of a gaggle of bitter queens and their fag hags, the kids from high school who got chorus parts in the school musicals and then proceeded to snark and snipe from the wings about those with real talent and a passion for hard work. David was never marginal enough for these wannabes. He was too clean, too mainstream, too morally grounded, too freaking nice. EW proclaimed Adam to be a “true original — and just what the show needed.” What a bunch of malarkey. Where I come from, Adam is about as original as every third twentysomething walking down the streets of the East Village or Williamsburg. Since when does guyliner make you original? No, Adam got EW love because he was way more their type: flamboyant, iconoclastic, insecure, and over-the-top.

But then came the Rolling Stone cover, at a point when Adam was officially #2 — the same role, again, that David was in a year ago. Why the press love for Adam? Or, more to the point, why the absence of same for David? I think tagging Adam’s not-so revelatory acknowledgment of his sexuality as the basis for the attention is a little too facile. It is a story (I guess), an easy one anyway, one that still — for perhaps just a few more cultural minutes, at any rate — retains the faintest wisp of something scandalous or at least unconventional, but it does not on its own account for the high profiling.

No, I put it down to identity entertainment. Just as all the debates over identity politics during the long presidential election gave us insight into the difference between using personal attributes (race, religion, history) as a primary measure for competence rather than performance and policy, so too it is easier, for both press and public alike, to assess and embrace an entertainer based on similarly dubious measures. Familiar models outpace true originals in almost every case. Far from being original, Lambert’s glam-rock goth boy persona trods a well-worn path, blazed decades ago by the likes of David Bowie, Ozzy Osborne, Pete Burns and Boy George, among others.

The David Archuleta persona does not fit into any neat, familiar models. There are highly original, even revolutionary aspects to his persona, but they are deep rather than broad. Indeed they are unspectacular, even as they are rare and even transcendent. David’s generosity of spirit, his remarkable compassion, his gentle nature staked with a steel spine — these unusual qualities don’t lend themselves to shortcut symbols or iconic illustration. David, to put it simply, is not a type.

But neither, I would argue, has David given the press or the public sufficient reason, so far, to connect him with any of the more performance-related attributes on which he should be building his renown. As he undertakes writing and reconnaissance for his new album, I pray that David has the wisdom to make something of a return to his roots, and offer up at a least a few pieces that will help to seed the market with the one attribute by which he will inevitably come to be known and revered. Namely: The Voice.

On one level, David’s first album was an obvious attempt to answer a chorus of critics whose expectations of him as the boy balladeer seemed already entrenched. But beat-based pop music doesn’t test the mettle of vocal prowess, nor does it reveal true vocal sophistication. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. The appeal of beat-based pop music lies in other dimensions. But when it comes to the expressive sophistication of the human voice alone, nothing offers as suitable a setting as the ballad. For all their successes in up-tempo numbers, great one-for-the-ages voices like Ella, Frank, and Barbra were never more revered than for their work on ballads.

By being balladeer, David solves two critical issues in the trajectory of his career. First, it provides a shortcut-hungry media with a tag, a category, a bucket for the David Archuleta brand. Like anything else, categories have their pluses and minuses. At one extreme, without any way at all to identify an artist, they simply won’t be covered, or will be covered in too vague a manner to seed memorability or even interest. At the other extreme is the risk of being pigeonholed. My sense at this point is that David’s first album went too far in the anti-ballad direction, which resulted in proof that he could successfully take on other categories, but failed to illuminate what makes him so uniquely gifted and powerful in the first place. And second, being balladeer will capture new fans in broader demographics by bringing the The Voice in all its glory to the market: the enormous subtlety of phrasing, the sleek charcoal tone, the hunger and yearning that opens caverns of emotion. In a phrase, David needs to make us cry.

Even if he does get pigeonholed to a certain degree, I’m left wondering what is so god-awful about that. Who is the contemporary male singer who owns the ballad? Is there anyone? Not only is David the Balladeer an opportunity for strong identity, it is a thrilling prospect for sublime heart connections all over the world. Then, David can finally be recognized for what is truly his, and which no one else can conceivably match.

– Rascal

Here is a popular archived article by Rascal from last November. Enjoy, and let this also be an invitation to peruse the archives of The David Chronicles for other delights. NOTE: This article was written after the first round of promotional and marketing efforts by Jive revealed their tween-only strategy. At that time there had been some, shall we say, concerns voiced about this strategy in Rascal’s previous articles. However, in this particular article, Rascal turned his gaze to the varieties of joy that David can bring. ~davidfanLIZ

November 13, 2008

Ode to Joy

One of our loyal and beloved notingDavid regulars emailed me earlier today and gently suggested that I might turn my gaze to joy. Fair enough, I replied.

And so, to joy.

The joy of discovery in new music. One of the blessings in being a fan is that the surprise of new material is married to the warmth of familiarity. It’s like traveling to new and exotic locations with a lover. But the depth of David’s soul contains discoveries of its own, and nothing is perhaps more rewarding than noticing a special nuance or a shaded note, even after multiple plays, that you hadn’t noticed before. And suddenly all is deep and wide and reeling again as you marvel at the grand and glorious subtlety that David extracts from even the simplest phrase.

The joy of watching David’s joy. Even through all the impossible stops, the traveling, schedules, and faces, David not only endures through it all, he delights being put through his paces. Surely he knows that he’s living his dream, he is grateful, we know that, it shows. But David knows too that his public is part of it, they’re on the journey as well. His commitment to the grind is a selfless gesture, a gift he bestows to his fans. It’s thrilling, and he wants to share it.

The joy of soaking in David’s voice. Critics who listen are already groping for adjectives. Foggy. Velvet. Winsome. Melancholy. It cannot be reduced to words, of course. Neither can it even really be heard with the ears but indeed must be felt with the heart. It pierces, it soothes, it bundles and wraps. It soars and it slides and it whispers. There’s infinity in them thar notes.

The joy of sharing in David’s accomplishment. That circular piece of polycarbonate plastic is not just the result of three crazy months of traveling and recording and selecting and agonizing, but indeed the result of a lifetime of preparation… Of daring to think, as he watched Les Misérables or listened to Mariah Carey, that it might be him; that he, too, might someday sing and that people might listen; that he might one day even dare to dream of joining the pantheon of performers who reach beyond the recordings and rest in people’s hearts.

He rests in ours. He is joy.

~Rascal

It might be impossible to say too much about this song, or else maybe words are entirely insufficient. David’s work is best appreciated, in my opinion, with as few accompanying flourishes as possible. David thrives in simplicity because his voice encompasses the universe. All the extras only get in the way. Without taking anything away from the successes on the rest of the release, I have to confess that this is the only cut that has been as fresh and as moving to me on the 200th play as it was on the first. It is a truly beautiful piece.

By way of acknowledgment to the amazing Amy and her must-read interview with Mike Krompass at Snarky Archies, and because it will undoubtedly be quite some time before we have a video of “Somebody Out There,” I decided to go ahead and produce a little idea of my own.

WARNING: Shameless emotional manipulation ahead.

Update: It’s on YouTube here. Please feel free to post and share.

David may be a born singer, but unlike many other young, aspiring talents, David is not a born performer. Quite the contrary. As a child, his shyness and humility required that he be coaxed and cajoled into singing for small groups of relatives and friends, and slowly but surely in front of increasingly larger crowds. In fairly short order, those crowds became multitudes, and David’s audience today is global and growing.

It is an interesting irony that someone who was at first so audience-shy is so responsive to the live performance setting. No producer has yet gotten near to extracting in the studio what David is capable of onstage. In the course of his early development as a performer, he could have conceivably developed an emotional wall between himself and the audience — tuned them out, as it were — in order to manage his nerves and his lack of confidence. Instead, he bravely opened himself. He shared his vulnerability. He connected. I suspect David gradually discovered that far from being a frightening place that required sheltering, the stage, for him, was just the opposite. The stage was a place unlike any other in the world, a place he could control, and where opening his heart was always met with love.

If Star Seach was alpha and American Idol was beta, David’s US 09 Tour was by all rights the first full-fledged, ready-for-prime-time, worldwide release of the cross-platform, widget-ready power-app known as David Archuleta. And gosh dang it if the thing didn’t dazzle right out of the box. Oh, it took a couple of test-runs to warm up, but the general consensus among the early adopters is that by Sayreville, the app was performing functions and showing off features that hadn’t even been advertised. Some even thought a couple of showings warranted an ESRB rating sticker.

In truth, the US09 Tour was perhaps not the ideal vehicle by which to experience the true depths of connection for which David Archuleta is already becoming known. Comprised mainly of middle-of-the-road pop material from his very respectable but ultimately uninventive debut album, the tour wound up drawing more on David’s less-developed skills as a performer than on his remarkable gifts as a sophisticated vocalist. And the success of the tour–not just in box office receipts but in the strength of David’s delivery on date after date–is that much more remarkable because of it. In the end, David’s first solo tour will have been more important for David’s own development as a performer than for his career, the cultivation of his audience, or the fulfillment of his fans.

The two component parts of the phrase, “performing artist” can be quite different from each other within a single individual. There are plenty of performers who possess rather dubious credentials for actually getting on a stage, as well as many great talents whose lights will be forever under a bushel. What is perhaps surprising about David’s evolution as a performer is just how much practice he has actually had, and how long it has taken him to reach certain levels of aptitude. David Archuleta is nothing if not methodical.

The interesting thing is, there is never anything that strikes one as methodical about his performances (except for possibly some of the pre-song patter, which he seems hell-bent on delivering word-for-word, regardless of the circumstances or how quickly the band comes in to challenge him). Every note, every musical moment — and, increasingly, every move and gesture, every shoulder pump and hunker-down — feels utterly spontaneous. And even though his progress is methodical, even incremental, it always amazes me how it also seems to have happened so fast. Wasn’t it just a year ago that the prospect of David commanding a stage and working a crowd was about as likely as hearing him curse like a sailor? I have come to the conclusion that the reason his thoughtful, incremental progress seems so rapid is because he chooses just exactly the right increments. David doesn’t take risks just to see what will happen. He decides what will work and then he bets it all.

This is perhaps best exemplified by Zero Gravity, the buoyant club-track-in-training co-penned by Mr. Archuleta himself (it’s no surprise and no accident that a majority of the best cuts on–and not on–the album are David’s). At it’s tour debut, Zero Gravity felt distinctly like an experiment. David didn’t seem at all certain of it’s place in the current repertoire, or even of his own synergy with the song. But the audience response was immediate and clear: He had a crowd-pleaser on his hands. Within just a few shows, David had worked Zero Gravity into a pumped-up, get-down, sexy and spirited hit.

Most performers who find early success because of prodigal talent don’t tend to evolve much beyond their initial scope of skills. They may explore different realms and dimensions of their instrument, try different directions in style and mood, but the sum and substance of their appeal doesn’t usually evolve in a fundamental way. I think David is unique in this regard. It seems clear that even with the magnificent voice, the unerring musicality, the impeccable taste, and now the emerging skill in songwriting and stage command, we are still only scratching the surface.

The implication of still greater potential signified by David’s careful progess into his own comfort zones, his methodical embrace of his own power and of the widening world at his feet, is at once astonishing, exciting, and absolutely frightening. If David 1.0 can galvanize audiences, surprise critics, and cause such mass hysteria, spiritual epiphany, and obsessive Googling, what is in store for the world on the arrival of, say, David 4.3?

I have to laugh a little when I think about what’s really possible in the future from David. For some obvious (and perhaps not-so-obvious) reasons, David is extremely guarded about any direct expression of sensuality. When he is in the world of his music (which for him is a different world altogether), he can’t help it, of course, and his sensuality oozes out of him like the juice from a sweet summer pear, one which lacks any knowledge of having been bitten or of even being so ripe. What is it going to be like when he truly embraces his own sensual nature? What instrument exists that can measure the power certain to surge from a David Archuleta who uses his sensuality consciously, intentionally, like he uses his miraculous voice? We think he’s smoldering now… My friends: These are cool, collected embers compared the raging brush fires that this guy is capable of.

But at the end of the day it is The Voice. For many people, there is an unmistakable tone, a timbre, a frequency of some kind that David produces which, at certain moments, pierces through every emotional barrier, every cynical thought, and touches a place of deep and abiding tenderness, that universal point of perspective where sadness and joy become one, and the great fullness of wise recognition, the great surges of profound understanding, overflow and become tears. One of the few experiences that can bring us to this place in a veritable instant is great art. There weren’t perhaps enough of these moments in the US09 tour, but there were some. One of them is offered here, with thanks to genevievewang and StarryNites01.

David Archuleta is immensely powerful not because he is now becoming a pro at leading a crowd or commanding a stage, or even because of a nascent sensuality that is slowly extending itself, but because he invites you to listen and not just hear; to participate with your heart and not just your senses; to realize that music is not a broadcast but a communication.

People feel unusually close to David because his natural state is, ironically, one of intimacy… an intimacy that I dare say he can cultivate and is comfortable with only onstage. For better or worse, this is the mark of a true star and a great artist: one who can locate their true nature only in the realm of performance; who is most powerful and most vulnerable in that odd and magical public setting. It is these artists who have such passionately devoted fans, because somehow their fans know that for these rare and generous individuals, their time onstage is indeed not just a performance. It is life.

–Rascal

Now this looks like a good fit.

A credible, successful, talented London pop-punk band formed in 2004 and already on its sixth album, McFly’s reputation is “not just a boy band” but one with “serious musical skills” and “genuine likability” that has also proved themselves to be endlessly charitable: They have recorded songs for Comic Relief, Sport Relief, and a double A-side release in aid of Children in Need.

They consistently get better reviews from concert-goers and listeners than from critics, who tend to temper their enthusiasm because the band produces “innocuous pop songs that mums are just as likely to love as their teen daughters.”

Sound familiar?!

Europe will do wonders for David. Let’s pray he’s allowed to discover some of it.