Behind the Scenes at Canadian Idol
Nine thousand aspiring singers have taken to the stage. Now it’s down to the Top 10.

BY LINE ABRAHAMIAN

The first thing Jacob Hoggard does at 6 a.m. on April 26 is slip out of his sleeping bag, tiptoe around a “Lean on Me” crooning huddle and troll for a hot-dog vendor in downtown Vancouver. Not unusual, perhaps, if you’re a mohawk-sporting wisecracker who slept outside for a chance to become the next Canadian Idol.

At this point the wildly popular Canadian Idol has already trekked across nine cities in search of a 2004 winner. In Vancouver, the show’s last stop, a motley crew of 2,000 talented and/or quirky hopefuls have turned out.

“ I don’t think I have a shot,” says Jacob, who comes from nearby Abbotsford. “But my girlfriend and mom made me come, saying, You’re going to get far because you’re so crazy.’ Not crazy like you don’t want to fall asleep in the same room because I’ll chew on your legs. But humorous crazy.”

With hours to wait for his first round of auditions, Jacob plunks himself on the floor and scans the room. Throughout the day, some competitors spontaneously burst into singalongs—which Jacob swerves to avoid, as he would puddles—while others discreetly serenade the wall. Still others ham it up for the TV cameras, like Connor Falk, decked out in gold jewellery for a gangster look and belting out “I fought the law and the law won.”

Being a class clown himself, Jacob appreciates Falk’s attempt to lighten the mood. “You can’t take yourself seriously in a situation like this,” he says, “otherwise you’ll drive yourself crazy. Keeping a sense of humour is very important.”

Six hours later Jacob is called into the audition room. One of the show’s producers asks him to sing a few bars. Jacob explodes into Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” prompting the judge to grant him a pink ticket, whisking him off to round 2. If a second producer likes him, she’ll offer him a green ticket, which earns him a spot in front of the judges.

Minutes later, he shuffles out with a frown and throws his hands out to show they’re empty. His friends let out a sad “Oh.” But before they get too close, he clutches his stomach as though he’s about to be sick—and coughs up his green ticket.

Contenders who pass the first two rounds now perform on camera for the celebrity judges: singer Sass Jordan and artist managers Zack Werner, Farley Flex and Jake Gold. Only 155 will be granted a gold ticket to Toronto to duke it out for a spot in the Top 32.

Some of these competitors are patched through to the celebrity judges because of their genuine talent and charisma, and that makes for good television. Others squeak by courtesy of their utter lack of talent but genuine belief in their brilliance, and that makes for great television.

“ There are some unusual people out there who truly believe they’re good,” says executive producer John Brunton. “And you just want to say, ‘Tell me, do all your friends and family lie to you?’ But, of course, they’re so unbelievably bad, it’s good. We let them through because we want to show Canada the diversity of people who come before us—that includes the awful performers and the bizarre personalities.”

“ But we try not to be exploitative of those people—to celebrate their uniqueness and individuality instead,” adds Zack. “We truly are grateful they took the time to be with us, and we applaud their drive.”

One such competitor is 22-year-old Brett Balaban from Concord, Ont. He’s dressed as Popeye and warbles “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man” in the same quirky voice and style as the spinach-gulping hero. The judges adore Brett, smiling and applauding at the end of his performance.

Brett’s father used to impersonate Popeye for a living. He died in April 2003. The usually shy Brett knows he won’t get through to the next round—he just wants to pay tribute to his father.

Every competitor has a story, a reason for being here—for some, it’s to honour the memory of a loved one; for others, it’s to prove their self-worth; for others still, it’s to realize a childhood dream.

For 25-year-old Manoah Hartmann, it’s to fulfill a dare by her music students. “My kids said if they raised $13,000 for a school project, then I’d have to audition for Canadian Idol,” says Manoah, a music teacher in Regina. “Well, they raised more than $13,000!”

On April 16, after cruising through the first two rounds, Manoah is on her way to perform for the celebrity judges when a car crashes into hers. “This can’t be happening,” she cries as she stumbles out of her smashed heap of metal. “I have Canadian Idol auditions, and I can’t miss them!” So she explains her situation to the other driver, plunks her trunk into her backseat and drives away.

She makes it to the Radisson in Regina and the Canadian Idol crew listens dumbfounded as a now-weeping Manoah recounts her tale. “Shouldn’t you be in hospital?” they ask.

“ No, I’m fine,” she reassures them. But two hours later, panic strikes when her entire right side suddenly becomes numb. Her mom drives her to a clinic, where tests show that Manoah suffers from severe whiplash. But even that doesn’t keep her from honouring her students’ wish.

Manoah returns to the hotel at 2 p.m., just in time to witness 18-year-old Bonnie Reakes explode out of the audition room, sobbing. Bonnie’s toneless version of Bette Midler’s “The Rose” withered and died on the audition stage. And when she admitted, “I had trouble with that song,” Jake sniped, “I think you’d have trouble with any song.”

Next, 18-year-old Jeff Kreklewich bursts out of the audition room, devastated after Zack bans him from subjecting anybody else to his ghastly rendition of “Somewhere Out There.”

“ I don’t try to be harsh,” says Zack. “Just because I speak cold, hard truth doesn’t mean I’m being rude. When some kids argue, ‘You’re wrong, I’m good and everyone says I’m good,’ then I’m going to say, ‘You’re being terribly misguided because you’re profoundly tone deaf, you have no sense of rhythm, and I highly recommend that you only sing in the shower.’ Is that harsh? No, it’s good, frank honesty.”

“ Besides, those who try out should know what we’re looking for...or at least that they can get shredded by us,” adds Sass. “But it also depends on the person—if they’re terribly vulnerable and childlike, we won’t say, ‘You’re the worst piece of crap we’ve seen.’ But if we feel they can take it, we’ll dish it out.”

And they’ve been dishing it out for four hours, as Manoah watches the revolving door of crushed competitors and fears the worst. “I heard these people sing, and some were amazing but were still torn up by the judges,” she says. “So I’m expecting them to tell me to turn around and walk out.”

At 6 p.m. Manoah trudges into the judges’ den on wobbly legs. Shaking, she breaks into “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” and her eyes fall on Zack. I don’t believe it, she thinks. Zack is smiling.

Minutes later, Manoah enters the waiting room—and flicks a gold ticket out from behind her back. Her mom shrieks for joy. “Jake and Zack said I was a pro!” she cries jubilantly.

After a 9,000-competitor search, the top contenders from across the country land in Toronto on May 10 for four days of boot camp, Canadian Idol style: 155 compete, 32 survive. And from those, the Top 10 are voted on by Canadian television viewers. Among the 155 is 22-year-old Joshua Seller, a young Art Garfunkel look-alike from tiny Brigden, Ont. In the John Bassett Theatre, he joins the other competitors, who are chatting up a storm. “Everyone is checking each other out, thinking, I wonder what she sounds like,” laughs Joshua.

Another contender is Theresa Sokyrka from Saskatoon, an unassuming brunette with glasses whose raspy voice and jazzy delivery wowed the judges in Regina. “I can’t believe you’re 23 and no one has heard of you yet,” Jake had exclaimed. But today, Theresa, who sold her first guitar to attend the Top 155 auditions, woke up with laryngitis. “I’ll make no excuses, though,” she says. “I’ll sing my heart out.”

The contenders are called up in groups of ten to perform in front of the judges—and their competition. “This is very intimidating,” says 24-year-old Brandy Callahan from Halifax. “I’m last, so I have to listen to every fabulous voice in Canada and then try to squawk out my own!”

Theresa listens as 16-year-old Lia Murray charms the audience with a ballad. Oh, she can wail! Theresa thinks as butterflies begin to flutter in her belly. What am I doing here?

Theresa never imagined auditioning for a competition like Canadian Idol: “I just didn’t believe in myself enough.” At 21, she had moved to Edmonton to pursue music, but “I couldn’t land gigs and was really close to giving up.”

So she moved back home—coincidentally the night before Canadian Idol auditions. “I was too discouraged to audition,” she recalls, “but my sister pushed me out of bed, into the shower and out the door in 15 minutes, saying, ‘You’re doing this!’”

Theresa is called onstage and belts out Blue Rodeo’s “Try.” That was terrible, she thinks afterwards. But in the audience, Brandy’s jaw drops when she hears Theresa’s smoky vibe. “Oh, my God, she’s awesome!” she whispers. “For sure she’s going to make it!”
And she does. Incredulous, Theresa returns to her seat as Brandy’s group is called onstage.

Just rock the mike and let your bubbly personality shine through, Brandy encourages herself. And rock she does. After her earth-shattering delivery of Whitney Houston’s “Run to You,” the crowd springs to its feet.

Offstage, she confesses, “I was shaking like a leaf. If my legs were skinny, people would’ve heard African drumming!” Brandy turns serious when she recalls how she’d sing to her cousin J.J., who suffered from muscular dystrophy. When J.J. died at age 14, “It was only by singing the songs he loved that I was able to get through it,” she says.

Today her powerful song moves the judges to grant her a pass to the next round. But 44 others are sent packing. At 8 p.m. competitors are assigned the next day’s task: a group number.

Theresa scurries to her hotel room and cries on her pillow. “I don’t want to compete anymore,” she tells her roommate, Diane Archer. “I didn’t sing as well as the others! They nailed their songs, and I got up and totally bombed!”

“ Theresa, you sounded great!” Diane interjects.

“ No! These people can do anything with their voices; I can’t keep up with them! I’m not pop-y, I’m jazzy. It’s rough because lots of people don’t think I should be here. I know it. I can feel it.”
“ You deserve to be here!” Diane consoles. “Being unique is good! You don’t want to sound like everyone else. Don’t ever change! Now, the only time I want to see tears is when you’re crying for joy when you make the top 32.”
Although Diane’s words comfort her, Theresa still calls home every 15 minutes to hear her mother say, “Theresa, you can do this. I know you can!”

When asked to find partners for their group number, Jason Greeley, 27, from Upper Island Cove, Nfld., immediately seeks out Daniel Dupuis, 25, from Montreal and Marc Letourneau, 23, from St. Albert, Alta. The three met only hours ago but clicked. They scamper to their hotel room to rehearse.

Jason has wanted to be a musician ever since “my dad put a guitar in my hands and I rocked my kindergarten graduation.” In high school he started a band and has been jamming ever since. “Soon, everybody in my hometown knew who I was. And I wanted the rest of Canada to know me, too.”

At midnight, they’re exhausted. And all work and no play make Jason, Daniel and Marc dull boys, so they stagger down to the bar for a beer, where Jon Dore, having just retired from a pillow fight that he instigated with some of the other contenders, now ropes them into serenading a female patron.

Daniel slithers onto the bar, while Jason kneels down in front of her, while Marc stands at his side. They troll out a seductive rendition of Elton John’s “Your Song,” without skimping on the theatrics, to which she giggles coyly, gushing, “You’ve made my year!”
Having successfully wooed the lady, they now drain the last of their beers and call it a night.

As Jason crawls into bed, his exhausted blue eyes flicker over pictures strewn across his nightstand. He barely recognizes the heavyset teen staring back at him from the photos. “I look at my old pictures every day to remind me how far I’ve come,” he says. Eight years ago, a 280-pound, 19-year-old Jason would never have had the confidence to audition for Canadian Idol. But today, the 180-pound 27-year-old can’t wait to show himself off. “Losing100 pounds has been my biggest accomplishment...” he pauses briefly, “yet.”

Next morning, Tuesday, May 11, the competitors gather at 8 a.m. at the theatre. Jacob Hoggard’s group is called in. He and 21-year-old perogy salesman Shane Wiebe, also from Abbotsford, couldn’t be more different. “Jacob is careless; I’m careful,” explains Shane playfully. “He’s rock; I’m classical. He’d rather climb the CN Tower; I’d rather sip peppermint tea.”

But they make beautiful music together. That’s why they partnered up, along with Ontarians James Mears, 26, and Dan Schaafsma, 22.
After rehearsing until 2 a.m., the group breezes through their performance but only earn a blunt “Thank you” from the judges. “We did well, but we could’ve done better,” admits Shane. And to prove it, they slink into the washroom, plant a video camera, post themselves in front of urinals (no actual unzipping takes place) and break into song. “We wanted to have on record how good we could be,” laughs Shane. “But somewhere in this world, there will be a completely incriminating video of us, standing at urinals, performing “Just My Imagination” by The Temptations.” As the boys spill out of the washroom in stitches, Shane thinks, Dad would have gotten such a huge kick out of this. His father passed away from a stroke in March 2001 at 47.

“ When I sing, I think back to the times he’d ask me to perform for him. And I remember watching him, listening to me with his eyes closed and tears rolling down his face. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.”

Jason, Daniel and Marc enter the audition room and the pianist begins to play “Your Song.” Jason is so relaxed that he slings his arm around Daniel and gazes at him googly-eyed as he croons, “How wonderful life is while you’re in the world.”

“ You’re so cheesy, man!” laughs Jake.

“ I feel like I’m watching the Osmond family Christmas special,” lampoons Zack.

The boys tumble out of the theatre, backslapping and chortling. “They called us cheesy, but it’s okay because we nailed that song and we had a great time,” rejoices Jason. They’ll have to wait until tonight to find out if their song carried them to the next round.

That evening the contenders are divided into four rooms—one group will be turfed out. As the hopefuls trickle into their assigned rooms, they immediately take inventory of who performed well and who flopped—to determine if they’re staying or going. “This is crazy,” says Manoah. “Your stomach is up in your throat, then down in your knees, and then up in your throat again. It’s really intense.”
Finally the wait is over. A sullen-looking Farley shuffles in, the other judges in tow. He suspiciously wrings his hands as he delivers the news to the huddled hopefuls: “We had a rough time deliberating, and we have to tell you guys the real deal...you’re staying!”
The room erupts into loud cheers. But the celebration doesn’t last long. At 10 p.m. the winners are asked to pair up for a duet the next day. They have three songs to choose from—and less than ten hours to prepare.

The next morning, 25-year-old Chhaya Dewan from Montreal and 21-year-old Kaleb Simmonds from Dartmouth, N.S., squeeze in some final rehearsals before their duet. Kaleb slayed the judges in his preliminary audition in Halifax, but he has yet to impress them this week.
The pianist plays the tune “Put a Little Love in Your Heart” and Chhaya kicks off with the lyric “Think of your fellow man, lend him a helping hand...”

Kaleb waits for his cue—and blanks. Chhaya jumps in, trying to save the performance. Midstream, the duet becomes a solo, as Chhaya belts out the song while Kaleb throws in the occasional doo-wop. After the last notes are uttered, Kaleb makes one last attempt to show off his pipes, trotting out one verse a cappella.

“ Your performance is an insult to this process,” Zack rips into him. “You’re wasting my time.”

Later the judges are torn between Kaleb’s poor performance and his raw talent. “He’s so smooth,” says Sass.

“ Yeah, he sang only one line, but what a line!” executive producer John Brunton joins in.

Kaleb has been crooning along to music videos since he was seven. “Music was a great escape in hard times,” he says. “In school, I didn’t think I was smart enough, but music was the one thing I always shone in.”

Joshua seller’s duet also doesn’t go well. “I forgot my words, and Zack said Anna [Cyzon] totally smoked me,” he says. “I know I’m going home tonight.”

He trails away to be alone. A few months ago, Joshua was studying to become a youth minister, but financial troubles forced him to leave college three years into his four-year term. “When I left school, I lost all focus,” he says. “I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do with my life.” That’s when his friend asked him for a ride to Toronto to audition for Canadian Idol.

Joshua never intended to audition. “I love singing, but it was always this unobtainable dream that was too big to achieve,” he says.
But the judges didn’t think so, drenching him in praise such as “Seller is a seller!” and “You’re the best person we’ve seen in Canada!”
“ That was such an honour!” he recalls. “The best in Canada! Not a small town like Brigden! So then I started thinking, Maybe I am a good singer and my dream isn’t so unobtainable after all.”

But now that dream seems more elusive than ever.

Host Ben Mulroney spots a sorrowful Joshua in a corner. “Look, people screw up,” he tells him. “No matter how poorly you did today, you might still get through. Look at Billy Klippert. He couldn’t sing a note on the last day, and he made it to the top three last year.”
Mulroney has been with these kids since day one and has been doing it all—host, counsellor, comforter, cheerleader, steeler of nerves (“Take over that audition room and don’t leave without having given your all”) and even a teller of jokes (about his 24/7 megawatt smile: “Ten years as a child in politics and then ten years on television, I have the best-developed cheek muscles in Canada”). It’s all in a day’s work.

When the duet contenders are called back into the theatre for the elimination process after their performances, Joshua and Anna are soon called forward. “You’re both staying,” the judges boom. Joshua gasps in relief as he sweeps Anna into his arms.

Next up are Kaleb and Chhaya. Hand in pocket, Kaleb shuffles limply alongside a confident Chhaya. “Sometimes it plays out this way,” says Zack. “Kaleb stays; Chhaya goes home.”

Eyebrows arched in surprise, Chhaya does a double take, her smiling lips now mouthing “What?” Her puzzled look falls on Kaleb, who has shut his eyes in relief. No words are spoken between the two, no hugs exchanged. Chhaya strolls offstage, her neck craned back at the judges, as if to give them a chance to ask her to stay. But they don’t.

“ I don’t understand what happened,” says Chhaya. “How could they cut me and keep Kaleb?”

“ Chhaya is a great singer, but she wasn’t completely honest with us,” Jake later explains. “We found out they actually did rehearse more than she said, and she was late this morning while he waited for her. That influences our decision because as an artist, you need to be able to work with others—it’s not just about you.

“ We gave Kaleb the benefit of the doubt because he has never performed with others. He’s always been insular, which is why we liked him: He was so unique and different. But you can’t be unique and different and be the guy in Singin’ in the Rain. Kaleb is never going to be that guy, but he has crazy flavour.”

Backstage, Joshua is elated. “Now that I’m so close, I can’t go back to my old life selling electronics. I want this more than ever!”
That evening, for the first time in the competition, Elena Juatco from Vancouver becomes unhinged. She survived the elimination, but many of her friends did not. “To see them get cut right in front of me freaked me out,” she says. She calls her best friend in Kingston, Ont. “This is so stressful,” she tells him. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“ Elena, remember why you wanted to audition in the first place,” he comforts. “Forget that this is a competition and just have fun.”
With these words of encouragement, Elena rehearses her solo—the final task—before falling asleep at midnight. At 6:30 a.m. she forces herself to eat breakfast. Today she will be second to perform among the remaining 48.

Backstage, a bad case of jitters grabs Elena, but she has nothing to be nervous about. The judges have fallen in love with her and her eccentricities since the first day, when she grooved to Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” at the Vancouver auditions.

It was a Grade 5 karaoke performance of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” that awakened her passion for entertaining. “I had this big sweater on and kept thrashing around my sleeves whenever I got nervous—and because it was the Alanis thing to do,” she recounts. “And then the audience stood up and cheered for me. I thought, I have to keep doing this!”

Finally one of the producers calls out, “Stand by, 3, 2...” Elena walks in and performs “Nobody Does It Better” without missing a beat. “I think I did well,” she says backstage. “All there is left to do is sit and wait for my fate.”

Kalan Porter from Medicine Hat, Alta., has been blowing the judges away ever since his preliminary audition in Edmonton on April 21. He should be a shoo-in for the Top 32.

He raises his mike and lets the first few lyrics fall effortlessly from his lips, “When a man loves a woman...,” but fumbles, casting around for the words. Nervously he sweeps his gold locks from his face. Sass looks at him with the concern of a mother.

“ And if she’s bad, he can’t see it. She can do no wrong,” he sings, then stops again and gasps.

“ Thank you,” Zack dismisses abruptly.

Kalan trudges out, biting his lip. “I froze,” he says. “I feel like I’ve let my parents down. They’ve been my biggest supporters.”

Indeed, Kalan’s mother boasts that he was humming Brahms’ “Lullaby” at 18 months old. She enrolled him in piano lessons at five, violin at eight and classical voice at ten. “My mom would push me to practise and say, ‘You’ll appreciate this when you’re older.’ I didn’t believe her then—but now I do!” says a shy Kalan, who admits that singing has allowed him to come out of his shell.

The clock strikes six—time for the elimination. Kalan’s parents hug him. “You never know; you might make it!”

“ Yeah, maybe,” Kalan smiles —but he has already packed his suitcase.

After four days of performing, 16 of the remaining 48 competitors will be sent home. One by one, the hopefuls are called into one of three rooms—two rooms will be safe.

In room 3, 16-year-old Brock Groombridge pinballs from competitor to competitor, interrogating them on their performance. “How did you do today?” he asks Kalan.

“ I screwed up pretty badly,” he replies, almost apologetically.

“ How did you do today?” Brock moves on to Kaleb.

“ Oh, I screwed up, too!” he responds, shaking his head.

Then Shane walks in. He has been a solid performer all week. If he’s here, then they must be safe. Maybe not. “I forgot my words today,” he tells the inquiring Brock. “I feel like I’m sealing everyone’s fate here because I know I’m going home...so I guess you all are too.” [Laughs.]

After Brock tallies all the “I screwed up” and “I forgot my words,” the outlook looks pretty grim. “Oh, my God, we’re going home!” he concedes painfully.

Across the hall, Brandy is eerily calm as she’s ushered to room 1, skipping arm in arm with a crew member, singing “Follow the yellow brick road.” But once inside, nerves wreak havoc on the contenders, who suddenly burst into “Stand By Me”—and then start to weep.
“ What is it about this show that makes you cry all the time?” inquires Elena as she paces back and forth.

The judges walk into room 1, sporting gloomy expressions. The competitors clasp hands as Sass speaks. “We’ve been deliberating for hours,” she says, “and we judges don’t always agree. But for what it’s worth, I fought really hard for some of you. And you’re all going...”

She pauses. The axe hangs. “...on to the next round,” Sass hollers, pointing to them as if to say “Gotcha!”

Jason hoots and whisks Manoah into his arms, flinging her around so hard that her shoes fly off. Brandy clutches her heart. And Theresa can’t wipe away her tears fast enough, embracing Diane tighly in her arms, muttering, “I’ll never change, I promise.”

Outside in the hallway, the judges spill out of the room in stitches, as giddy as college students who’ve pulled off an amazing prank. “Oh, my God, Sass, that was an Oscar-winning performance!” congratulates Zack, holding on to the wall for support.

“ I was brilliant, if I do say so myself,” laughs Sass. “Even these guys [pointing to the other judges] thought the kids were going home!”
Inside room 3, the competitors are oblivious to the hoorah brewing outside the doors. Jacob, always the class clown, is trolling for laughs with his silly songs, face pulling and off-the-cuff jokes—”Right next to fingers in the meat grinder, this is awesome.”

The crowd is hushed as the poker-faced judges enter. “What can I say,” Jake teases, “you disappointed us...but we’re giving you another chance!”

Joshua sobs, Kalan gasps with relief, and Jacob tackles a stunned Shane to the ground and then hugs anybody who ventures into his path.

“ Listen,” Zack booms. “Sometimes the choice of the public will be cheeseburger instead of caviar—that’s the nature of pop culture. But always be true to yourself, because individuality carries artists further than a generic good voice.”

He smirks, saying, “I’m so looking forward to ripping all of you apart!”

It is soon out of the judges’ hands. After the top 32 performed for the Canadian audience, TV viewers voted for their ten favourites: Joshua, Brandy, Kalan, Kaleb, Theresa, Jacob, Shane, Manoah, Jason and Elena. And each week over the summer, the now-famous group would lose a performer after votes by television viewers were tabulated. In the end, only one will be granted a record contract with BMG and be crowned the next Canadian Idol.

Until the final show in mid-September, the finalists have been adapting to a life of notoriety: Joshua cannot walk into Wal-Mart without the public address system broadcasting his every move—“Canadian Idol Joshua is now in the hair-products aisle”—and Manoah has been chased down the street by a devoted fan.

For some, fame has hit harder than others. “I was on a plane with Jacob once,” recounts Shane, “and the flight attendant came up and asked him, ‘Hey, aren’t you the guy from Canadian Idol?’ He said, ‘Yeah, don’t you recognize this guy beside me?’ And she said, ‘N-no, should I?’ [Laughs.] And that’s how it’s been. Jacob is the famous one, and I’m just the guy who blends in to the crowd.”

Even though life has changed for the finalists, they haven’t. “All this attention is great but weird because I’m just a regular guy,” says Jacob. “And I have many people around me to remind me of that! As Bob Marley said, ‘In this bright future, you can’t forget your past.’ That’s how it’ll be for me.”