Chords Of Strength Part 2

I honestly feel that the whole Star Search Star Search thing was able to happen at all because of how much thing was able to happen at all because of how much Idol Idol influenced me, which is why I like to joke that I was trained in the "School of influenced me, which is why I like to joke that I was trained in the "School of American Idol American Idol." By featuring so many different types of people trying to tackle such a wide range of songs on the show, I think Idol Idol gave us a mini-crash course in musicology, which broadened my sense of what kinds of songs to sing and expanded my idea of how to individualize music. But, of course, I was still very much afraid and full of self-doubt, because I didn't think I was as good a singer as the kids I'd seen perform on the show. Though I had sung for many audiences, not since gave us a mini-crash course in musicology, which broadened my sense of what kinds of songs to sing and expanded my idea of how to individualize music. But, of course, I was still very much afraid and full of self-doubt, because I didn't think I was as good a singer as the kids I'd seen perform on the show. Though I had sung for many audiences, not since Jenny Jones Jenny Jones had I performed for a television audience, and I felt there was a serious risk of humiliating myself. had I performed for a television audience, and I felt there was a serious risk of humiliating myself.

This would be our third trip to California and it started to feel like L.A. was our home away from home. Although I felt scared every time, each visit made me feel more and more excited about my desire to become a better singer. I tried to remember to always see my performances as opportunities to get better and share my talent. And even though I was afraid, once I started to sing, I'd go into some kind of peaceful, stress-free state where all that mattered was the sound of the music and the feelings that it carried. Those feelings would always overpower any fear that crept up.

Another uncomfortable feeling I had to deal with was the feeling of guilt when someone I thought of as more talented than me would lose out. For example, there were three kids auditioning for Star Search Star Search with me, and only two of us would get chosen for the show. I was sure I wouldn't make it but I did. Now I felt terrible, because I really thought one of the others was a lot better than me. Then I saw her crying and it kind of broke my heart. I just couldn't shake this feeling that I might have taken something away from someone who deserved it more. I couldn't handle how sad that poor girl was. I knew she had worked just as hard as I had. I never felt like I was good enough to win and almost felt embarra.s.sed when I did. In a way, I didn't even think I belonged there to begin with. I loved singing so much, but when that meant competing and beating out other people, that's when it got a bit weird for me. It has nothing to do with humility; I just saw it as unfair. with me, and only two of us would get chosen for the show. I was sure I wouldn't make it but I did. Now I felt terrible, because I really thought one of the others was a lot better than me. Then I saw her crying and it kind of broke my heart. I just couldn't shake this feeling that I might have taken something away from someone who deserved it more. I couldn't handle how sad that poor girl was. I knew she had worked just as hard as I had. I never felt like I was good enough to win and almost felt embarra.s.sed when I did. In a way, I didn't even think I belonged there to begin with. I loved singing so much, but when that meant competing and beating out other people, that's when it got a bit weird for me. It has nothing to do with humility; I just saw it as unfair.

But I would try to shake off these nagging negative feelings, and instead focus on the idea that this was all part of my training and education as a lover of music and aspiring singer. For the preliminary round, I chose to sing The Jackson 5's "Who's Loving You?" I remember Hilary Duff was the guest judge, and she smiled so sweetly throughout my entire song. The person I was competing against was Anna Maria Perez de Tagle who later was on Hannah Montana Hannah Montana and in the movie and in the movie Camp Rock Camp Rock. Then for the semifinal round, I was up against two girls, Joelle James who made the Top 24 on season six of Idol Idol, and Tori Kelly who just barely didn't make it to the Top 24 but made it through Hollywood Week of season nine. They both were so amazing; I knew I didn't have a chance to make it through to the final, but I figured I'd just give it my best. I picked for my song, "Fallin'" by Alicia Keyes and tried to put my own twist on it. Joelle was amazing, but she was sick that week and I felt really bad for her that she wasn't at 100%, but she still sounded amazing singing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Tori then sang the song "Blessed" by Rachel Lampa, and I figured I had had a great time and wasn't going to feel bad if I didn't make it past the semi. When the voting came in after commercial break, the scores were so close that Tori and I actually tied. It came down to fractions, and when the final tally came in, I had won by less than two-tenths of a point! I couldn't believe it! Could this have really happened? Did I really deserve to be the one moving on? I was extremely happy, but I felt like something had gone wrong. There was no way I should have been able to beat them both. After the semi, I found out I was going to be in the finals against a girl named Molly. I chose the song "You're All I Need to Get By" which I first heard Kelly Clarkson sing on American Idol American Idol. I later found out that it was performed by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell and that Aretha Franklin had also recorded it. My dad and I worked out an arrangement that combined some ideas from both versions as well as some original ideas that would make the song my own. I felt it was my best performance and I really had a great time putting my all into it decked out in my then favorite leather jacket! When the final scores came back, I couldn't believe that I had won! I got straight 5s from the judges and it was my chance to feel I had achieved a dream that was unimaginable just a few weeks earlier when I was sitting at home watching in amazement the very same people I had competed against, and now having to pinch myself because somehow I had become the Junior Vocal champion.

things never happen exactly how you think they will But what might have been a celebration was quickly stunted by the news of the Iraq War. All regular television programming was interrupted and the networks collectively switched to news coverage. So really not many people got to hear me sing that night, and there was no special party or celebration after the winner was crowned.

The night of my final appearance happened to be the same night the Iraqi war started. As a result, they ended our show after the junior vocals and dancers had performed, and the show wasn't even aired for most of the country. So unless you lived on the east coast, you probably would not have seen my final performance. The final episode of our season ended as part of the first show of the third season, which sounds confusing, but because they had to cut the show short previously, they had to combine the last part of the show with the first show of season three. It was the only way they could make it work. After the third season was over, they called us back to be part of a special one night "Battle of the Champions" episode. They had the three winners from each previous cycle to compete for another $100,000. It was back to Los Angeles again for us. We were starting to really get comfortable with the routine and understood that being a singer would include a lot of travel and hectic moving around. It was exciting and exhausting, but it was a lot of fun. I got to know the other kids very well as we went to school every day on the set and had a great time getting to know one another. We had all already won our season, so none of us really felt like it was a compet.i.tion, but more of a chance to sing one last time. I chose to sing "I Surrender" by Celine Dion for this round, and though I was not expecting to do well at all, I managed to get some great comments from the judges even though I didn't win. I managed to end up as the Junior Vocal Champion on Star Search 2 Star Search 2, losing the Junior Grand Champion "Battle of the Champions" t.i.tle to Tiffany Evans. She was over-the-top amazing and I saw it as a good thing that I hadn't won, because in all honesty I couldn't imagine winning against her. It felt great just to be considered at her level, and the chance to sing with her once again was totally flattering to me.

In fact, even though I sang okay that night, I kind of knew I wasn't going to win. I wasn't disappointed because I knew that I'd given it my all but just wasn't the best singer there. So was I sad or b.u.mmed out? It was never about winning for me. What I cared about was just having one more opportunity to share my talent and perform. Two years earlier in Utah, I was terrified to walk onto a stage, and here I was in Hollywood, much more calm and excited every time I held a microphone in my hand. Not a bad result!

After Star Search Star Search finished in May, we stayed in Hollywood for a few weeks, and I recorded a demo version of my first song written for me by my dad and an amazing songwriter friend, Sunny Hilden (another friend we met during that magical weekend of the finished in May, we stayed in Hollywood for a few weeks, and I recorded a demo version of my first song written for me by my dad and an amazing songwriter friend, Sunny Hilden (another friend we met during that magical weekend of the Idol Idol finale), called "Dream Sky High." It was an inspirational song about angels, and I really enjoyed singing it. We also had a chance to meet with several attorneys and producers to learn a little more about the music business and see if having won finale), called "Dream Sky High." It was an inspirational song about angels, and I really enjoyed singing it. We also had a chance to meet with several attorneys and producers to learn a little more about the music business and see if having won Star Search Star Search would open any new doors for me. It still seemed that I was probably not quite ready to actually try to get a record deal so we went home. I went back to school for my sixth-grade year and prepared to start my next school year in seventh grade. While I was home for the summer just being a normal kid, I got really sick one night and found out that I had appendicitis. I remember how much pain I felt and how at first my parents thought I just had a bad stomachache or the flu. By nighttime, I had a high fever and so much pain that I was rushed to the hospital. I had my appendix removed successfully and then had to go home for bed rest right when my seventh grade was supposed to start. I finally started school at a new charter school called American Preparatory Academy with my sisters Claudia and Jazzy and my brother Daniel. We really enjoyed that school and felt we learned a lot there. It was a very positive environment and had a lot of great kids going there as well as some great teachers. would open any new doors for me. It still seemed that I was probably not quite ready to actually try to get a record deal so we went home. I went back to school for my sixth-grade year and prepared to start my next school year in seventh grade. While I was home for the summer just being a normal kid, I got really sick one night and found out that I had appendicitis. I remember how much pain I felt and how at first my parents thought I just had a bad stomachache or the flu. By nighttime, I had a high fever and so much pain that I was rushed to the hospital. I had my appendix removed successfully and then had to go home for bed rest right when my seventh grade was supposed to start. I finally started school at a new charter school called American Preparatory Academy with my sisters Claudia and Jazzy and my brother Daniel. We really enjoyed that school and felt we learned a lot there. It was a very positive environment and had a lot of great kids going there as well as some great teachers.

STAR SEARCH SONGSPRELIMINARY ROUND"Who's Loving You" by Jackson 5

SEMIFINALS"Fallin'" by Alicia Keys

FINALS"You're All I Need to Get By" by Marvin Gaye

BATTLE OF THE CHAMPIONS"I Surrender" by Celine Dion

SECOND-YEAR WINNER'S CIRCLE"A House Is Not a Home" by Luther Vandross"Climb Every Mountain" from The Sound of Music The Sound of Music"Ain't No Suns.h.i.+ne" by Bill Withers"Get Here" by Oleta Adams"Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler Sometime around Thanksgiving, after only being back to school for a few months, my dad received a phone call from the people at Star Search Star Search asking if I could come back for a special show they were putting together for the new season. For this would come to be the final asking if I could come back for a special show they were putting together for the new season. For this would come to be the final Star Search Star Search series, three winners from the previous year or sometimes a contestant who was a runner-up were brought back to compete. Mark Mejia, Molly, and I were the three Junior Vocalists. By then, the show had decided to just have three judges now on the panel; fifteen stars was the highest score possible. The winner had the chance to challenge another performer. The one challenged had to beat or tie the challenger. If they couldn't, they were out of the compet.i.tion, and the challenger took his or her place in the winners' circle. Halfway through the series, the three performers in each winners' circle competed against one another in a special show. series, three winners from the previous year or sometimes a contestant who was a runner-up were brought back to compete. Mark Mejia, Molly, and I were the three Junior Vocalists. By then, the show had decided to just have three judges now on the panel; fifteen stars was the highest score possible. The winner had the chance to challenge another performer. The one challenged had to beat or tie the challenger. If they couldn't, they were out of the compet.i.tion, and the challenger took his or her place in the winners' circle. Halfway through the series, the three performers in each winners' circle competed against one another in a special show.

When I arrived in Hollywood for the second year of Star Search Star Search, I was sick with a pretty bad cold, which was an ongoing battle for me during my early years in singing. I had come down with the kind of cold that I'd always get around Christmas. It wasn't my greatest year health-wise; I'd had bronchitis over the summer, which I hadn't fully recovered from, and in the fall, I had appendicitis and had my appendix removed. Now I had this chronic cold, where I'd get all stuffy and a little weak. It wasn't a big deal, I was pretty used to it by now, and I never thought it was anything to worry about. People get sick during the winter, right? But it got worse and worse while I was on Star Search Star Search, until by the sixth week, I could barely get through a song. At first, we thought maybe it was that my voice was starting to change, but we also knew very well that this usually doesn't affect a person's breathing. I was so wheezy and short of breath that even my talking became restricted, and I couldn't sing for more than ten or fifteen minutes without getting really worn out and having a hard time controlling my pitch or holding out a note for very long. I hadn't ever had this extreme of a problem before and my family was nervous about what was happening, but I guess I was a bit in denial of (or just too young to understand) what this could mean.

I knew that the other kids competing were able to hear me sing, and I was starting to really suffer thinking about how I must've sounded. I don't know how, but I kept going to the next round with each cycle, and I even believed they kept picking me on the show out of mercy because they felt bad that I was so sick. I mean, I knew I sounded like I had a problem, and it had to be obvious to everyone else listening as well.

One night my dad sat with me and said, "David, you may have a medical condition. Do you still want to sing tonight? Or should we just talk to the show people and tell them that we should withdraw?" I thought about it for a while and my reply was, "Dad, I don't care if I lose or win, I just want to have one last chance to try." I sang my song for week 6, and I guess I sounded okay; but my belief in myself was starting to dwindle slightly, and my ability to stay as strong as I could was also starting to fade. This was obviously not a regular cold and whatever it was, we didn't want to make it worse. It was time to see a specialist.

I really had a great time putting my all into it The doctor said that they would have to use an endoscope (a type of camera that they run through the nasal pa.s.sage) to see what was going on. "Very interesting," he said. "What I am seeing is really not normal for a child. It's usually something we see in our elderly patients." He showed us the video of my vocal cords, and we could clearly see that only one of them was vibrating when I spoke or tried to sing; the other was barely moving. The doctor said it looked partially paralyzed, which could have come from a virus I may have caught when I had bronchitis. The good news was that it was not completely paralyzed, because if it had been, I would be getting no sound at all. At least now, we understood why I had to work so hard when I sang, but I was crushed. When you're someone who loves to sing, "vocal paralysis" are not words you ever want to hear.

Especially discouraging was the fact that there wasn't much we could do about it. Our two options were basically high-risk surgery that could permanently mess up my ability to sing or vocal therapy that would slowly rehabilitate the damaged cord. That sounded kind of vague and wishy-washy to me, but the surgery sounded even worse. That was the only thing I could do. The surgery was out of the question.

After Star Search Star Search and the news of my diagnosis, we hung out in Hollywood for a couple of weeks, meeting with producers and songwriters. and the news of my diagnosis, we hung out in Hollywood for a couple of weeks, meeting with producers and songwriters. Star Search Star Search had opened a lot of doors, and we tried to be as productive as possible while things were fresh in people's minds. We must have met with six or seven different lawyers just to try to learn how things work. People were so helpful, considerate and kind to me, but still, no one seemed to know what to do with me. I still wasn't able to communicate verbally what I wanted to do musically, and so there was no clear sense of direction for us to take. had opened a lot of doors, and we tried to be as productive as possible while things were fresh in people's minds. We must have met with six or seven different lawyers just to try to learn how things work. People were so helpful, considerate and kind to me, but still, no one seemed to know what to do with me. I still wasn't able to communicate verbally what I wanted to do musically, and so there was no clear sense of direction for us to take.

There were times in L.A. when my dad would ask me to sing, or talk to some executive about singing, and I just couldn't get the words out. Maybe I was overwhelmed by everything, or maybe I really was just too young to get it-but there were many moments where I was at a total loss for what to say. My personality wasn't yet fully developed, and the only way I knew to truly let go was when I was singing onstage. But you can't sing for every single second of your life, can you?

When everything simmered down in California, we went back home where, despite my new diagnosis, I continued to have a few local opportunities to sing. The doctors never told me not to sing, so I sang at our church, and at a few special events. I did the best I could, and simply tried to avoid singing for extended sets. I remember one show at Pioneer Day, which is a state holiday in Utah and kind of like the Fourth of July. The show producers put together some custom arrangements for me, including an orchestral version of "Dream Sky High" with a full-blown orchestra and a background choir. The event itself was held in this grand and elegant hall in Salt Lake, Abravenal Hall. I walked onstage in my tuxedo and sang several songs including "Joyful, Joyful," "Down by the River to Pray," and, of course, "Dream Sky High," trying to enjoy the moment but knowing deep down that my voice wasn't what it used to be.

I tried to keep up with my singing as much as I could, but now I was thirteen and getting older, so I was also starting to think about the rest of my life. I couldn't do more than one or two songs in any performance, and it seriously b.u.mmed me out. I didn't think I could force my voice to work the way I wanted it to. Sometimes you just have to accept things the way they are, I told myself.

Here I am singing at a wedding in Utah.

I continued with my vocal therapy exercises. I'd go to my voice lessons for a while, and then I'd stop, feeling like the whole thing was a waste of time and that I'd never be able to sing like I used to. My situation was like someone who's suffered a stroke and needs to retrain certain muscles how to work. I literally needed to train my paralyzed vocal cord how to vibrate again. I did special exercises that helped strengthen the vocal cord little by little, and I learned to turn my head to one side while I sang, to relieve the cord that was doing all the work and to be sure the weak cord was having to vibrate. That seemed to help a little, but it was hard not to feel negative or discouraged at times. Sometimes I thought the whole therapy thing was going nowhere. Other times, I thought, maybe it will work; let's keep giving it a shot. But all in all, I wasn't too hopeful; I was starting to give up.

I thought, how could I possibly be a serious singer with a paralyzed vocal cord that will only get worse with time? Singing was getting harder and harder to do. I didn't have the energy I used to have when I was eleven-I figured I'd have to come up with other ways to make my life meaningful and complete. But up until now, besides family and friends, music was pretty much the only thing I ever wanted. From the moment, I got the diagnosis, life quickly went from Star Search Star Search to soul search. to soul search.

At school, I tried to be a normal kid. I wanted to be as una.s.suming as possible and simply have a life like all the rest of the kids around me. I just wanted to be normal. I would do little gigs here and there, but I was starting to treat it more like a hobby that I loved and less like a career path. It was almost time to start high school and I was excited to get to hang out with my friends and just do what other kids my age do. I started to focus on getting good grades and learning as much as I could so that I could make clear decisions when it was time for college.

From ninth through eleventh grades I just a.s.sumed the singing part of my life was over. I found a way to accept it by trying to be a bit more social and to even start brainstorming about what kind of direction I would take after school. I knew the SAT tests would be coming, so studying would certainly take some time and energy. I wanted to do well so that I could have real options down the line. There were so many subjects that were interesting to me, and there would soon come a time when I would have to make decisions about college and majors-things that I was really looking forward to and wanted to take as seriously as I did my singing.

Between eighth grade and ninth grade, I rediscovered running, which was an activity that always made me feel relaxed and peaceful as well as made my body feel good. I would run all the way from the house to school and I'd keep going on the track there. Running calmed me down and in general it was a great way to relieve stress. That summer, while I was running at the high school track, I was approached by the cross country coach who invited me to just come work out with his team. He said that as a ninth grader, I could even partic.i.p.ate in the meets if I wanted to. I met with them for a party, which meant we were going to go up the canyon and run, then meet at the bottom of the canyon and have a bonfire and just get to know one another as a team. I really enjoyed that, and during ninth grade, I did partic.i.p.ate in the high school meets. I continued running on my own a bit, but after ninth grade, I decided not to continue once I was actually in high school.

I wanted to be as una.s.suming as possible and simply have a life like all the rest of the kids around me.

But I couldn't kid myself too much. Though I was having fun at school with my friends, it was also kind of depressing because I felt like I had somehow lost a little piece of my ident.i.ty. I had spent a good part of my childhood with a microphone in my hand, and now I felt kind of useless. I started to wonder if maybe it was a test from G.o.d; maybe He wanted to see how strong I was, how open-minded I could be when faced with obstacles that were out of my control. With that in mind, I tried as hard as I could to see the bright side of things by being grateful for the fact that at least both of my vocal cords were not damaged, and that thankfully, I could still speak and sing a song or two now and again. I wanted to be optimistic. But very often, it was hard to find that bright side. I guess I saw it as a sign that singing maybe wasn't my path. You know what they say: Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

CHAPTER 5.

HOPE RISES.

"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."

-WINSTON CHURCHILL.

Sometimes it takes a miracle to reignite a person's pa.s.sion. Sometimes when you least expect it, the tables turn and that scary feeling that has taken hold of you for so long somehow turns into hope. Call it luck, call it help from above, call it whatever you will. As for me, I definitely believe some kind of miracle was at play when my voice, for no understandable or explainable reason, started to gradually feel better again over the period of a year or so from tenth grade to the eleventh grade. Maybe the vocal exercises and just taking it a lot easier vocally had made a difference after all. All I know is that when I tried to sing, I didn't have to work so hard. My sound was freer, my pitch was improving dramatically and my overall sense of control was getting back to where it was supposed to be.

I had been able to sing off and on during the previous few years, but only for short periods of time. I would get tired after just a few minutes and this continued for a year or so. But at a certain point, it seemed that gradually I was feeling better and better. After I was about fifteen or so, it suddenly felt like my voice was getting stronger and I could sing several songs at a time. I even started doing gigs again like singing at a wedding for one of my friend's sister and also for a corporate event that I was going to have to sing for about an hour.

I was still taking it slow because after all those years with "my condition," I felt that I'd gotten rusty, and I no longer had the confidence I'd had after the validation we'd gotten at the Idol Idol finale and throughout all the finale and throughout all the Star Search Star Search shows. In many ways, I was afraid to sing, or maybe afraid that I would remember just how much I loved to. When I look back, I think I was scared of rekindling this pa.s.sion because I didn't want to have to let it go again. I didn't want to set myself up for that kind of personal disappointment, and by now the truth is that I was okay with just being a normal kid. If I was naive about singing at age eleven, at age sixteen, it just made me anxious. But I was still grateful for the fact that I didn't have to suffer through a song anymore-even if I was just singing in the shower. shows. In many ways, I was afraid to sing, or maybe afraid that I would remember just how much I loved to. When I look back, I think I was scared of rekindling this pa.s.sion because I didn't want to have to let it go again. I didn't want to set myself up for that kind of personal disappointment, and by now the truth is that I was okay with just being a normal kid. If I was naive about singing at age eleven, at age sixteen, it just made me anxious. But I was still grateful for the fact that I didn't have to suffer through a song anymore-even if I was just singing in the shower.

Slowly but surely I started to sing again, just to test myself to see how much I could handle. Though the feelings that came up when I sang were still the same as they had always been, the process was a little different because my voice had lowered quite a bit and I was working with a new kind of sound. My taste had also evolved over the years and now I could sing songs by male vocalists that were more mature as I now had a more tenor range to my voice. There were also all these new genres I was exploring, so while I was still hesitant to sing full out, I have to admit that there was also a part of me that really wanted to dive back in. But you know how it is when you're a teenager: One minute you're super-excited about something, and the next minute you're doubting the exact same thing. But when you know something you can't just "un-know" it, and the one thing I knew for sure was that nothing filled that void, that feeling, that I got from singing. All setbacks aside-insecurity, vocal paralysis and age (to name a few)-I still loved music and I felt that it was time for me to figure out a way to get back into it. I still felt a connection to it that was deeper than any of the setbacks themselves. I couldn't think of anything else in the world that I cared about more, and every time I would think about my purpose, the answers seemed to come in sounds. In melodies. In feelings. There was no escaping the fact that the music was still after me. When it came down to it, it was really very simple: I would rather sing than not sing.

At that point, we all decided it would be good to test the waters again by accepting a full-set gig. It had been three years since I'd sung more than a song or two at a time. Three years since I went for it with a full set, and three years since I felt confident enough to do so. I was out of practice and believed that any return to singing would pretty much mean having to start from scratch. Did I have the energy to do it all over again? After giving it a lot of thought and really trying to figure out if this was a door I wanted to reopen, I made a choice. I decided that this was one of those moments in life when I would have to choose optimism. I forced myself back into the saddle by agreeing to sing a full set of songs for a local performance. I didn't know what to expect, but I made a commitment to do my absolute best. I figured that if I gave it my best and things didn't work out, at least my conscience would be clear that it wasn't for lack of effort. My part, I thought, would be to try my hardest and be as positive as I could. Even though everything else felt a bit like a wild card, my intention to give it my all was the one variable that I could control.

My dad helped me work on the arrangements for the songs and also ran sound for me, and Richard, a friend of ours, came along to play the keyboards. I would start each number by telling the audience a bit about the song and what it meant to me. This was a way of connecting more with the crowd, but also a quick way to help get me in the mindset of the songs' emotional essence. My dad helped me write out an outline of my ideas, and for the first time onstage I felt that I was no longer seeing my audience through the eyes of a child. I was a little older, a little less naive, and a little clearer about just how much music meant to me. After the whole vocal cord issue, I had a brand-new appreciation for what it means to be able to get up there and sing.

I felt pretty good after the gig and was happy I made it through the whole set and that my voice didn't wear out. Somehow, the hardest part was not the singing but having to talk in between the songs. The audience couldn't have been better though, and they even laughed at a lot of what I was saying although I never thought I was trying to be funny. I think I just have a dry sense of humor that comes through sometimes, and it seemed to that day. I felt natural and calm, unlike the early days when it would often feel like I couldn't hear the music over the thump of my own heart. The audience's response was extremely positive. It felt like they were seeing me not as a cute little boy with a good voice but more as a skilled singer with interesting potential. I was happy with how things went, grateful for my recovery and excited about the fact that I didn't have to suppress my love of singing anymore. I felt happy and hopeful that the door I'd chosen to reopen might lead me to something nice.

Seeing the many smiles and s.h.i.+ning eyes in the crowd that day was a small infusion of encouragement at a time when I needed it most, because a couple of months later, we realized three very interesting things: American Idol American Idol was still on, now in its sixth cycle; I was sixteen and finally old enough to try out; and the auditions for the seventh season were just around the corner and taking place in San Diego. I found myself in a very strange situation. Now that I was finally sixteen, you'd have thought I'd jump all over the chance to get on the show. I'm sure many people in my life imagined that I would want to be the first in line. But in fact it was the total opposite. I hadn't been counting the days in antic.i.p.ation of this moment. After all those years of being told that I was too young to start a career in music, and then my vocal cord being paralyzed, I had accepted a new reality. After everything that happened (or didn't happen), I had accepted that maybe singing just wasn't for me after all and I should just move on to something more practical like becoming an ear, nose, and throat specialist. was still on, now in its sixth cycle; I was sixteen and finally old enough to try out; and the auditions for the seventh season were just around the corner and taking place in San Diego. I found myself in a very strange situation. Now that I was finally sixteen, you'd have thought I'd jump all over the chance to get on the show. I'm sure many people in my life imagined that I would want to be the first in line. But in fact it was the total opposite. I hadn't been counting the days in antic.i.p.ation of this moment. After all those years of being told that I was too young to start a career in music, and then my vocal cord being paralyzed, I had accepted a new reality. After everything that happened (or didn't happen), I had accepted that maybe singing just wasn't for me after all and I should just move on to something more practical like becoming an ear, nose, and throat specialist.

My parents didn't push me at all; instead they put the idea out there and let me know that they would help support me if I felt it was something I wanted to do. They would gently remind me of how obsessive I used to be about singing when I was younger, and about the whole crazy L.A. experience with the finalists and Paula Abdul and New York-all of the mayhem of that time. I distinctly remember one conversation when I said, "Mom, what should I do with my life? I know I'm supposed to be in music. But I'm not sure how." The wonderful mom that she is, she just encouraged me and told me that if I really believed in music, I should follow my gut.

Don't get me wrong: I still loved singing as much as I ever had, but love doesn't necessarily equal confidence, and it certainly didn't in my case. I was afraid to try, afraid of what I would sound like now as a teenager, a bit out of practice after so much time thinking that singing was a dead end. I knew that to be on a show like American Idol American Idol, you really had to be able to sing. I thought it would be a complete waste of time. Why should I go out there just to be rejected?

But it was not just my parents who were encouraging me to audition. Friends and other relatives, too, started to put the bug in my ear, and even though I tried to ignore them all, I have to admit that the question of whether to go or not started to nag at me a bit. I really tried to push the whole thing out of my mind, but for some reason, I just couldn't. When someone would ask me if I was planning to go, I'd instantly say no; but as each day pa.s.sed that "no" would gradually start to blur a bit, confusing me about what the answer should really be. I'm not entirely sure why, but some part of me started to think about the possibility of giving it a go. Maybe it was my instinct or some inner voice, I don't know-but there just wasn't any getting away from the feeling that these auditions were somehow calling my name.

My father offered to help me research song options and prepare the arrangements as he always had in the past. But I was still in denial about the whole thing and would dodge these conversations or find some other way to blow it all off. I just couldn't get past the fact that so much time had pa.s.sed since my days on Jenny Jones Jenny Jones and and Star Search Star Search. Wasn't I just a washed-up kid singer with a vocal problem?

My dad felt it might be good to make a few calls to some of the contacts we had made in Hollywood during the Star Search Star Search experience to help us get some perspective. What did they think would be best, should I maybe just try it on my own, or would it make sense to try experience to help us get some perspective. What did they think would be best, should I maybe just try it on my own, or would it make sense to try Idol Idol as a vehicle to get some exposure perhaps? Just as I expected, they pretty much discouraged us, saying that it was VERY hard these days to get a deal and that it required an established fan base to get a label to look at you unless you were already on a TV show or were in a movie. They said that as a vehicle to get some exposure perhaps? Just as I expected, they pretty much discouraged us, saying that it was VERY hard these days to get a deal and that it required an established fan base to get a label to look at you unless you were already on a TV show or were in a movie. They said that Star Search Star Search was old news; that our winning moments happened years ago when I was a lot younger and that people would respond differently to me now that I was a totally different person. They didn't believe that I was relevant anymore, and neither did I. I even thought that maybe I'd only won in the past because I was a kid. was old news; that our winning moments happened years ago when I was a lot younger and that people would respond differently to me now that I was a totally different person. They didn't believe that I was relevant anymore, and neither did I. I even thought that maybe I'd only won in the past because I was a kid.

my intention to give it my all was the one variable that I could control And that wasn't my only problem: That summer I had taken my first job. I was hired as a sound tech at the Murray Park Amphitheater-a responsibility that I didn't take for granted and actually considered to be pretty important. To even think about going on the audition, I had to approach my bosses and see how they'd feel about me taking some time off. Needless to say, they were not into it at all and basically told me that if I left it would be pretty certain that I would be out of a job. They were nice, but they were also honest. I get the fact that people are expendable; so I felt that I should hold on to what I had and not get too caught up in an illusion. As I weighed the pros and cons, it just didn't seem rational to leave my job for something that probably wouldn't work out anyway. If I left my job to go try out and didn't get in, it would be a waste of time, plus I would have to find another job. I liked that job; it was a lot of fun, and I worked with all my friends. I'd worked hard to get it. Was it really worth the risk?

Having a job meant having purpose, which was something that I took seriously and was proud to finally be able to do. I was learning a lot, earning a bit of money on my own, and feeling like I was slowly but surely finally starting to grow up. How could I just pick up and go to San Diego and abandon my new responsibility? I wasn't a little child anymore and I was actually accountable for something. That felt good; it felt empowering. Going to the auditions would mean not only losing my job but spending money on flights and hotels. It seemed like a high price to pay (morally and financially) at a time when I no longer even thought of myself as a "real" singer. I didn't believe that I would get very far, nor did I have dreams of one day being a pop star. I just didn't see the point of trying out.

But every day that pa.s.sed was another day closer to the auditions, and I still couldn't seem to shake that nagging feeling. Something deep inside was trying to make a point, and after many days and nights of battling the question of whether I should go or not, I chose to do the only thing that I knew would help me decide: I prayed. It was clear that I wasn't going to be able to come to the decision on my own, so I surrendered to the uncertainty and humbly asked for help. Even though I was literally asking G.o.d if I should try out for American Idol American Idol, I think what I was really asking is if He still believed in me. I needed to have that moment with G.o.d to look inward and honestly confront my deepest motivations, my dreams and my purpose as a person. I felt that I needed some kind of validation, besides the urging of all the people around me, that this was the right thing to do. I had to look deep, I had to ask the basic questions and I had to turn to G.o.d for help. And that night I was happy and grateful to discover that He was definitely listening.

I knelt by my bed, closed my eyes and talked to him the only way I knew how: calmly, simply and honestly. I didn't make a big fuss, and I didn't get all dramatic about it. I just laid out my questions as openly as I possibly could. At first I felt a bit silly to be praying about something as unimportant as a TV show, because I didn't want to bother him with something that seemed rather trivial compared to all the other problems in the world. It's not like I expected a giant hand to come down from the sky and spell out a "yes" or "no" in big blazing letters. But still, slowly but surely, I felt uncertainty about my question starting to come into focus. I don't know how else to describe it, but I felt an overwhelming sense that I did have to go to the audition in San Diego. It wasn't something that I could even describe in words-it was more like an overpowering feeling, the kind you can't really argue with. I didn't understand in any intellectual or rational way why I needed to do it, but I just deeply felt that I should.

I realized through this comforting and pure feeling that G.o.d does care about me, and that by giving me an answer, He was acknowledging my potential. Despite the odds, I felt strongly that I had to go. Even if I failed, I thought to myself that maybe there is something that I need to learn from going. I guess I just have to have faith right now and go with this feeling. I decided that it would have to become my mission to accept all of the opportunities that He laid before me as little blessings, each one a stone for my path. I would accept them with appreciation and give back by trying my best every single time. I realized that just because I'm unsure doesn't mean that G.o.d is as well. With that, I put all of my faith in him and completely changed my att.i.tude about the audition. I made up my mind not to care so much about the destination, and simply enjoy the journey.

Once I made the decision there was a lot of work to do. It was time to come up with the best songs to sing, and to also start thinking about what parts of the song I wanted to highlight. I needed something that I genuinely enjoyed singing but that would also show my vocal range. If I was going to do this, I was determined to do it right, and after years of practicing so many songs, I knew it would be a critical selection. I even started to have fun going through all of the music that I'd acc.u.mulated over the years, to finally have a reason to choose the ones that made me the happiest. My dad asked me to make a list of the songs that I thought I would like to sing and then helped me narrow it down to the three or four that seemed to have the best potential for me to connect with. I was torn between "Joyful Joyful" and "I'll Be," two songs I knew well and really loved to sing.

It was also time to start thinking about who to tell and what to say about this whole Idol Idol experiment. I've never been one to get too riled up over things, and I wanted to keep cool and not make a big deal about it. I decided not to tell any of my friends because I honestly thought that I would be back in Utah right away, and I didn't want to suffer the humiliation of letting people down. I wanted to stay as realistic as possible, and I didn't want to turn a potentially disappointing scenario into a shameful return home. It was enough that I had built up the courage to go; but to keep myself sane about it, I felt I really had to keep a low profile. experiment. I've never been one to get too riled up over things, and I wanted to keep cool and not make a big deal about it. I decided not to tell any of my friends because I honestly thought that I would be back in Utah right away, and I didn't want to suffer the humiliation of letting people down. I wanted to stay as realistic as possible, and I didn't want to turn a potentially disappointing scenario into a shameful return home. It was enough that I had built up the courage to go; but to keep myself sane about it, I felt I really had to keep a low profile.

In fact, right before the auditions in San Diego, I was attending a youth conference with people from my church, which was kind of like a retreat for kids my age where we rode horses and played games-you know, all the typical camping-type stuff. To make my flight for California on time, I would have to leave the youth conference early. And I felt really bad, because the venue of the conference was out in the middle of nowhere at a ranch in the mountains, about two hours away from the airport.

I didn't tell anyone at the retreat what my plans were, but we had to make arrangements with the conference leaders for me to get driven to the airport at a certain time. The leaders, of course, wanted to know why, considering that the drive to the airport would be such a trek. The worst part about it was that I didn't even want to leave the conference; it was such a good time, all my friends were there, and it wasn't the kind of thing that happened every weekend. It was actually a rare treat and I was having a blast. For a minute there, I was really torn about leaving, thinking about what a colossal waste of time the drive to the airport would actually be. I probably wouldn't pa.s.s the audition and I would have left the conference for no reason.

We ended up telling one of my leaders why I had to leave early. I thought it'd be okay for one person there to know what I was up to; what I didn't know was how much she liked to talk. I remember seeing her on the phone with my dad, hang up, and then walk over to where the rest of the leaders were sitting. And I could literally read her lips-A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N I-D-O-L-as she told her colleagues about my plan. To make a long story short, word spread quickly, and by the end of the trip, everyone knew. I didn't make a big deal about it, but inside I was pretty upset with this woman, because the one thing that I really wanted to avoid was a whole bunch of commotion over something that I didn't think was going to pan out anyway.

My dad and I flew to San Diego together, and just being on the airplane, I could already feel the adrenaline pumping through me. The antic.i.p.ation was starting, and I started to wonder what it would be like to actually experience the process in person. I remember looking out the window of the plane and just being proud of myself for having the courage to take this risk, but also super-nervous about how it would all play out. Either way, it was going to be some kind of adventure, and from the get-go, I told myself to relax into it and try to enjoy the process, whatever it would be. I didn't have any expectations about winning and I was well aware of the fact that I would be among thousands of people who were all probably as excited and nervous as I was-and probably a lot more talented, too.

If I thought I had gone to the "School of American Idol American Idol" back in season one as a fan, coming back now as a compet.i.tor felt like the "University of American Idol American Idol." And this time, I wasn't just an innocent little boy singing in a lobby with nothing to lose. This time I was part of the game.

Once we got to San Diego, we rented a car and sped over to the general area of the auditions. We were happy to find out that we didn't really have to stay there in line all night and the next day and that we were able to just drive up and get a wristband without much of a problem. We were told they weren't even going to allow anyone to stand in line until the morning of the auditions, which was a bit of a relief. I remember when the second season auditions were going on when I was down there for Star Search Star Search; we drove over to the Rose Bowl and saw thousands of people with tents, sleeping bags, and fold-up chairs all just waiting until the next day's auditions. I'm glad they made it a bit easier this year. So after a few hours of rest that night, my dad dropped me off at about two a.m. so I could get what I hoped would be a good spot in line. Oh boy, I thought. This is going to be nuts. There were already if not thousands at least hundreds of people lined up; everyone geared up with snacks and blankets, many of them asleep in lawn chairs, some of them singing or humming, some of them chatting the night away. Most people were just sitting around and waiting. I made friends with some of the people who were near me, and I think some of them felt badly for me because I was just this kid sitting there quietly. I would try to practice a bit to myself, and they would try to rea.s.sure me. "We heard you singing. You'll be okay. Don't worry," they said. Even though it was an audition for a compet.i.tion, there was a warm sense of camaraderie in the air, which was probably just the collective energy of everyone's excitement to be there.

This time I was part of the game.

I was sitting near a group of people who seemed to be part of a gospel choir, which, of course, made me feel like a fish out of water. All of these big, powerful voices-and little me just sitting there wondering how the heck I was going to deliver. They would not stop singing, which at first was really cool, but after a few hours, I think everyone around them (myself included) just wanted to get some rest. At four a.m. they were still going at it, which I guess shows how determined and pumped they were for what lay ahead. I managed to sneak in an hour or so of sleep, leaning up against the wall of the stadium.

The next morning, we all had to wait in a whole other line, which is when we would get the chance to sing. Having been surrounded by gospel singers with powerful voices, I felt that maybe I should sing something in that genre to show I wasn't just a pop singer. I wanted to come across as having a soulful voice, too. I thought "Joyful, Joyful" might be a good choice, and that it could show the judges that I had some soulfulness even for a kid from Utah.

After five hours, I finally got a bit closer to the front of the line and we then found out that before we all went in, we were going to have to pose for a bunch of crowd photos. They took what seemed like forever to do the group photos of us for some reason, and I just remember feeling so tired after a night of barely any sleep. I recall wis.h.i.+ng that I could be sitting down or even lying on a bed sleeping, and I really was worried about being able to stay awake. The whole thing was totally exhausting-and back then, I didn't realize that it was only the beginning. Thank goodness, I didn't. Otherwise I don't know if I would have been able to brace myself for everything else that was going to happen. The process felt tedious and never ending in every possible way that you could imagine, but it was also kind of cool to see so many other talented singers really going for it. It reminded me of why I was here in the first place and of how excited I used to get when the show first came on. I tried to hold on to that feeling.

The whole operation was super-professional. The producers really ran a tight s.h.i.+p. We were constantly reminded to be on our best behavior, and they were clear about the fact that they wouldn't tolerate any messing around. I'm not sure exactly what that meant but it made me even more nervous. As the stadium filled with over ten thousand people, we could look down on the field and see a bunch of little tents set up with two to four people sitting at each table, and we saw they were going to have some more group photos and have us sing the theme song for our year before actually starting the auditions. Finally, they started filing off the first section and lined the people up in long lines, four across. I was probably three or four sections in so we figured we had a couple of hours so I just relaxed and watched a bit. My dad was the one trying to figure out exactly what was going on and figured the best thing was to just have me warm up a little bit but not too much. I would just pace myself and get warm and focus on feeling calm. As we waited, we kept looking for people to go to the right and up the steps with their golden ticket. The rejected people who were told they didn't make it walked out to the left. After what seemed like hundreds of people going to the left, we finally saw someone running up the right side with a golden piece of paper in their hands. Then it was another long wait until we saw another one. I guess this was going to be a very difficult process and I was even more nervous now thinking that there was no way I was going to make it through here in San Diego.

It soon became our section's turn and we filed off in long lines waiting and waiting. At least I was awake now, right? They set us up in four lines, one of us from each would become a group, and in turn we would then approach the audition tables. The lady I was next to also happened to be from Utah, which was nice to see. She had long blond hair and looked really stylish, and she had a cool voice, too. She helped me relax a bit. I guess a little familiarity can go a long way when you're nervous. I was the third person to sing in my group, and by the time I got to the very front of the line my exhaustion was replaced entirely with anxiety. The guy who went before me sang the Luther Vandross version of "Superstar," which totally blew my mind. He sounded so good and I thought, Wow, that guy can be in the Top 24-easily. And just as I had that thought, I heard the judges reject him, which also blew my mind, because I really thought he had what they were looking for. I realized then that this was going to be a lot less predictable than I could have imagined, and there was no telling who the judges were going to favor and who they were going to send home on the spot. I thought, I'm toast. There's almost no point in trying.

And even though I had sung on national television many times by then, now I was totally petrified. I went up and managed to get out about ten seconds of "Joyful Joyful" before the judges abruptly stopped me. Dang, I thought. They hated it. I really thought that was it for me, and that I was about to be sent home. "David, why don't you sing something a little more youthful, something a little more . . . you?" they half asked, half instructed. I was totally unsure what they meant, since I'd kind of lost touch with my true ident.i.ty as a singer over the years. I didn't even know what was "me" anymore as far as singing went. I only knew that I still loved to do it.

Luckily I had my plan B song, "I'll Be," which I had thought about singing before I saw the swarm of gospel singers. There's a lot to "I'll Be," and for some reason, I've always really felt comfortable singing it. I didn't even get to the chorus. I sang thirty seconds and that was that. I thought I'd ruined my chance, because I wasn't even able to get to the good part of the song. Anyway, I felt that "Joyful, Joyful" was really going to be the song that would let me s.h.i.+ne, so after they shut that one down, I thought, Game over. I figured they hated my first song choice, which maybe also tainted the way they would a.s.sess me. They thanked me, asked for my name and told the next person in my group to sing. As far as I was concerned, I was done. I was actually relieved that it was over. I felt I had done my bit by showing up and following through, and now I just wanted to sneak out the back door and pretend that none of it had ever happened. I kind of felt like "There, I did it. Everyone happy?"

But just as I was turning toward the exit, one of the judges said, "No, wait. You come back here." Of course I didn't think they were talking to me-I was sure they were calling out to one of the other people in my group. I turned around and said, "Meeee?" I was just hoping that I hadn't done anything wrong! Then they all looked at me, each one with their own version of a poker face, and said, "You're going to the next round." My heart dropped, my eyes widened and my palms started to sweat. I knew there were like fifty thousand people auditioning; and only two or three hundred people were given tickets to the next round. Beyond thrilling.

When I walked out of the audition room with my golden ticket in my hand, there was applause. I saw people who had stood in line with me and they were so happy for me. They told me they knew I was going to pa.s.s. I don't know how they could have, but it was nice to feel supported-even if they were still a bunch of strangers.

I felt a swirl of emotions that included happiness, confusion and total shock. For the first time in years I had a feeling of wholeness, a sense that I was starting to reconnect the dots of who I really was, and what I really wanted to do. I felt like myself again, complete once again, doing what I loved most.

That night in the hotel, I was online chatting with Lundy, one of my friends back home. He had also been at the youth conference and had heard that I was auditioning, which kind of infuriated me, because I really didn't want to come back to Utah with my tail between my legs. The fewer people who knew, the better. I may as well shoot this thing down early, I thought to myself, so I decided to tell him the whole story about my day at the stadium, leaving out the small detail that I'd gotten a golden ticket. I simply told him that the judges stopped me in the middle of my song-which wasn't a lie, right? In general I don't like to be deceitful, but I wanted everyone to a.s.sume that I didn't pa.s.s the audition. You can call it a case of "expectation management." I saw it as critical. That was my story, and I was going to stick to it.

"Meeee?" I was just hoping that I hadn't done anything wrong!

When we flew back to Utah, right after we landed my father dropped me off at a friend's house, where a bunch of us were going to watch Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Lundy was there, and of course, he couldn't help himself. "Hey, everyone, guess where David just came from!" he proudly told the whole crew. "He auditioned for American Idol American Idol, but he didn't make it." This was received with a lots of "awww"s from the rest of my friends, but I was thrilled. This is good, I thought. No one needs to know. Since they all felt bad for me for "not making it" they also didn't want to talk about it too much so that I wouldn't be upset. Little did they know that I was slated to head back to San Diego for the next round of auditions in September. But for the time being, school was about to start again, so I tried to keep the focus on that and not get too excited about my secret. By mid-August it was time to enroll and during that time one of my close friends, Jayme, asked me to the dance that was coming up in a few months. I really wanted to say yes to her, but I also knew that there was a tiny chance that I wouldn't be around because of American Idol American Idol, so I wasn't sure how to handle the whole thing without blowing my cover. Since she was a good friend, I took her aside when we were at registration and told her everything. Now she and Mietra, another close buddy, were the only two friends who'd heard the news directly from me. I made them promise not to tell anyone, and even though they were so excited for me, they were both incredibly respectful and discreet about it. I was so happy that I could trust my friends, and I have to admit it was kind of nice to know that they were on board with me. In the end, I was even able to go to the dance with Jayme, because it was during one of the rare moments in the course of the Idol Idol adventure when I was home. adventure when I was home.

San Diego was the first of all the cities where they held auditions, and for the next month or so, they would head to the rest of the cities to make more selections. My second audition in San Diego would be for a group of producers. For this September round of auditions, they would also start interviewing me about my life and background. My biggest concern now was that I wouldn't be interesting enough. I mean, what could I really say, that I was in the high school choir? Yippee. Big deal. I felt that I didn't have a real story to tell. And the one thing the interviewers kept telling us was to not say anything about how much we loved music, because they explained that that's what everyone said, and they wanted us to all come across as individually as possible. I was mostly at a loss for words, but I remember talking to them about running, because that's something I was doing a lot of at the time. I talked about my summer job, and I talked about how watching Les Miserables Les Miserables as a kid really got me into music. I talked about my family and growing up in Florida, but beyond that I couldn't come up with anything else that was interesting about me. I didn't even know if I should talk about as a kid really got me into music. I talked about my family and growing up in Florida, but beyond that I couldn't come up with anything else that was interesting about me. I didn't even know if I should talk about Star Search Star Search or not, worried that it was a competing show; and besides, that was a few years ago and the second year I didn't do very well anyway. I just didn't know what to say. or not, worried that it was a competing show; and besides, that was a few years ago and the second year I didn't do very well anyway. I just didn't know what to say.

For that round, I sang "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" and managed to get to the next round, which was just two days later. Now it was time to sing for the executive producers. I chose to sing "I'll Be" again, and again they asked me to sing something else. So I went back to "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," which had seemed to go well in the previous round. As I was singing, the executive producers stopped me. They said that I seemed to be gasping a bit for air, and that I sounded like I was slightly wheezing. I wasn't expecting anyone to pick up on that, and explained very matter-of-factly that one of my vocal cords had been paralyzed a few years back. I had put that out of my mind over the years and it just wasn't something that I was thinking about anymore. The moment I said the words "vocal paralysis," they all looked at one another. At first I thought I'd blown it by telling them, but then it became pretty clear that as producers, they were seeing a story here. I hadn't said anything about it in the interviews because it just wasn't something I dwelled on, and it obviously wasn't something that I liked to think about, especially on an audi