Clay Aiken Article

Los Angeles Newspaper Group

February 2004

By Kyra Kirkwood

Not since the finale of the 1980s film "Revenge of the Nerds" has geek been so hot.

With his tousled mop of coppery hair sticking up precariously, singing sensation and "American Idol" runner-up Clay Aiken shrugs self-consciously as he tries to make me understand that he's just a down-home, "geeky" boy from North Carolina instead of a multi-generational pinup with a voice of gold.

"If I knew why they liked me, I'd understand. But I don't," Aiken, 24, said with a slight drawl.

Honestly. He's trying to convince me he's baffled that women all across the country are becoming "Claymates," following him on the "American Idol Live!" concert circuit this past summer, tossing panties on stage, screaming · la Beatles style whenever this freckled singing god opened his mouth.

And he's at a loss to explain any of it.

"Listen, if I knew why they liked me that much, I might not be as grounded," he said. "I don't know what it is."

(Let's seeäcould it be because his voice is a sultry mix of Broadway and Top 40? Or because he adores children and has an affinity for teaching special-needs students with autism? Oh, and he adores his mom and uses the word "gosh.")

Who can resist that? Aside from venom-spewing "American Idol" judge Simon Cowell, that is.

As soon as Aiken auditioned for the singing-based talent show last October, he looked like an average braniack, not a vocal powerhouse. Instead of squashing his chance at stardom, judges, aprÈs a haute-couture makeover, embraced him. And so did America.

"I never, ever expected it or dreamed it would happen," Aiken said. (Oh, but I did.)

OK, readers. I confess: I was an "Idol" fanatic, watching, voting and rooting for Aiken every week. Another confession: I am a sucker for the nerd, risking wooziness at the sight of a bespeckled bookworm with apricot-sized biceps and cup-handle ears.

Add to that mix a voice nothing short of celestial, and I'm putty.

So you can imagine my dilemma here.

After tearing my closet apart to find something professional (yet adorable) to wear to this interview, I find myself at RCA Records in Beverly Hills, sitting next to the guy whose songs make me squeal like a 17-year-old with braces. And he's trying to convince me he's not all that great.

I struggle to smile professionally and nod my head like any self-respecting journalist. In fact, I proudly refrain from spurting water out my nose and howling, "Are you serious? Why does nearly every woman I know shriek like a banshee whenever your songs come on the radio? Me included? In front of my husband?"

What I won't do for my career.

Aiken's first album, "Measure of a Man," debuted Oct. 14, almost a month ahead of the CD to be released from "Idol" winner Ruben Studdard. Sounding a little Christian rock, a lot Jon Secada, Aiken croons through 12 songs, including his hit "This is the Night." Other tunes scoring high marks include the tear-jerking "Run To Me" and "I Survived You." Fans of Aiken's booming range won't be disappointed, as many songs on "Measure of a Man" feature his trademark lung capacity.

"This is a tangible proof of all the work I've done," he said, fingering the blue-hued CD. "It's a good bookend to my year."

And what a year. One day, he was working with special-needs children at the YMCA and hanging out with his teaching pals. The next, he was getting his hair flat-ironed, eyebrows bleached (thank God they didn't touch his eyelashes. I think they drape down to his chin) and photographed for the cover of "Rolling Stone." Where he was one of the first ever to wear a "What Would Jesus Do" bracelet.

"I feel shorted, in a way, because I haven't had to work for a lot of this," Aiken said. "There are people in the industry who don't like Ruben [Studdard] and I because they don't think we've paid our dues. But I think we have."

Aiken speaks matter-of-factly about his ballistic ride to stardom; nowhere is to be found the stereotypical cockiness seen in many overnight sensations. (Hmm, another item for my list. But who am I kidding? He could be claiming himself to be Superman while singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and I'd still buy his album.)

"I'm flattered and baffled. I'm nothing but thankful," Aiken said, then added with a blush, "[People] think I'm humble and sweet, but I'm not." (Oh God! Listen to me giggle. Where are my legwarmers and "Tiger Beat" magazine? I think I'm late for homeroom.)

Aiken's closeness to his family, especially his mother, is obvious as he talks about them with glowing compassion.

"[My mother] taught me to be introspective, [to] not just look at what I have, but why I have it," he said.

That includes the consequences of fame and fortune (Does that include seasoned journalists who act like crush-struck teens around him? Hey, if Diane Sawyer and Oprah can do it, so can I, right?). Recently, Aiken pulled into a grocery-store parking space and became cornered by an overzealous fan. A bit rattled, he called his mother to complain.

"[She said] 'Well, you know, there are 69,999 people who will trade places with you if you want them to'," he said. "You know what? She's right." (And I have plenty of friends who would trade places with me right now, but I'm not budging.)

Aiken, already animated and enthusiastic, literally glows when he speaks about teaching, his true calling and passion. (OK, now he's completely adorable.) Before "Idol" transformed his life, Aiken was on track to become a special-education teacher working with autistic kids.

"I don't get excited about me singing so much sometimes because I don't think I did anything to earn it," he said. "But I get really excited when someone says I'm really great with kids, [that] I'm a really good teacher. I worked hard to become a good teacher."

Ironically, his work with kids led him to "Idol." Aiken worked with the Bubel family and their 17-year-old autistic son Mike. Mike's mother Diane gave Aiken the final push he needed to try out for the show.

Now, he's giving something back. Aiken created the Bubel/Aiken Foundation, providing opportunities for special-needs and autistic people to participate in programs that were typically available only to those without disabilities.

"The goal of the foundation is toätake the influence I have from my music career and the passion I have for kids with special needs and bring it into practice," Aiken said. "The goal is to get these [special-needs] kids into programs that every single other child in the country can go to."

This drive to become more than just a pop star is one reason he named his CD "Measure of a Man."

"I want to make sure I'm influencing people in a good way and setting a positive example," Aiken said. "[The name of the album] is a reminder to me to make sure I'm measuring up.

"Because at the end of the day, I'm not accountable to the record company. I'm not accountable to anybody else except myself and God and that's it. At the end of the day, I've got to make sure I'm happy with what I'm doing."

Despite his celebrity, Aiken swears he's still an average guy from North Carolina. (I'm sure all "average guys," without formal music training, can sing as achingly beautiful as Michael Crawford in "Phantom of the Opera." Sure they can.) In fact, some of his most treasured times are when his friends call him to complain about their days or ask for teaching advice. (Hey, if it's that easy to please him, I'll be more than happy to ring and gripe about deadlines. Just jot down your number on my reporter's notebook, Clay.)

"I love that," he exclaimed. (Whoa, what did he say? He loves me? Oh. Whoops. He loves hanging out with his friends and listening to their woes. Yeah, of course I knew that. Sniff.)

In addition to this newfound life on the road, Aiken has also had to deal with a change on the homefront. Last July, his stepfather Ray Parker, passed away. Missing him is intense, but Aiken said he has faith Parker helped set this blessed life in motion.

"I have no doubt he played a major role in this happening," Aiken said, boyishly doodling with a marker. "He didn't want us to sit around and be sad, so he gave us something to be happy about. And I'm sure he's up there bragging about it, too."

*****

As I weave my way down La Cienega, I realize that Clay Aiken made a good point: He is a normal guy, with normal likes (his pals) and dislikes (mushrooms). A very talented guy with an amazing future, mind you, but still a guy.

Wait a minute! Who am I kidding? Where's my "Aiken for Clay" t-shirt?