Двое меня! И не разделяйте!
Наша Рэвен Вудс все-таки опубликовала свое знаменитое интервью со Шьямали Малакар ( то самое, где история с резинкой для волос и всеобщим построением приключилась) (Иллюстрации - в большинстве - мои и из Getty-Images)
На английском. Может чего когда и переведу...
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On the night of September 9, 2007, Sanjaya Malakar, just little less than a few hours from turning 18, winding down from a grueling 59-city tour as part of the American Idol Top 10, paused in the middle of the usual crowd cheering competition that normally follows his solo number. Usually, the cheering competition is little more than an amusing diversion, a neat way to segue into Chris Sligh’s solo. Except on this night Sanjaya had a surprise in store. As the stunned hush fell, and audience anticipation rose, Sanjaya was as shocked as anyone as his sister Shyamali took the stage to lead the audience in singing “Happy Birthday.”
Taking only a few seconds to regain equilibrium, he quickly made the introduction: “This is my beautiful sister Shyamali.” It was a priceless moment, as the Malakar siblings, this brother and sister that we first came to know and love so well as part of American Idol’s Season Six auditions, finally stood onstage together, locked arm in arm, at the pinnacle of everything that has gone down for the two of them this past year.
It has been a long one.
And yet, it still seems like only last week that Sanjaya and Shyamali first strolled into the AI audition and into our lives. Both of them, of course, received the coveted Golden Ticket. But, as they say, we know the rest of the story. While Sanjaya went on to become AI’s breakout sensation of Season Six (along with all the controversy forthwith) it became easy, perhaps for some, to think of Shyamali as The Sibling Standing in Shadow. Yet anyone who knows anything at all about the Malakar siblings knows nothing could be further from the truth. As I recently had the pleasure of discovering during a recent conversation in Memphis, Tennessee, Shyamali Malakar is not only a confident young woman and artist in her own right, but through the years has been, if anything, the shining light of her little brother’s world.
This, of course, becomes obvious quick enough if anyone has followed Sanjaya’s career to this point, for even an iota of a second. In the beginning of the season, America watched the heartwrenching scene as the siblings were separated by competition. Instead of celebrating the fact that he had made it into the Top 24, Sanjaya ran in tears to comfort Shyamali. His first AI performance was a song that she had suggested for him. And, as the season progressed, rarely an interview took place in which he at some point did not mention the tremendous role of muse and teacher that Shyamali has played in his life.
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“My beautiful sister.” The phrase, without fail, that precedes almost every word Sanjaya utters in regard to Shyamali. When AI vocal coach Debra Byrd was interviewed recently, she spoke of Sanjaya’s intent to sing Wind Beneath My Wings in dedication to Shyamali for Idol Gives Back. Obviously, this was an important performance for him. Yet, as Byrd states, he could not get past the first verse without breaking down. It had to have been an emotionally charged time, what with all the media controversy, the constant bashing, the desperate drive to hang in for the long haul, all of it coming to a head.
Yet in the midst of all that, he seemed to look to his sister as the calming and stabilizing force. If one pauses to consider the lyrics to that song, it is the voice of one who stands in the light, yet acknowledges the one who has made that light possible. The one who had been willing to stand in the chill of the shadows. To be, literally, the “wind beneath” the wings.
Shyamali said that the role of teacher to her little brother was one she fell into very naturally. “I was always the bookworm. I was always the talkative one; the one full of facts. If Sanjaya had questions about anything, he would ask me. He was always forming his opinions based on what I said.”
But much as Shyamali Malakar may be the wind that has held her baby brother’s wings aloft, she is certainly much more than just Sanjaya’s “beautiful sister.” She is a star in her own right, one of Season Six’s most instantly recognizable faces, even without having made it into the Top 24. Accompanying her brother on the current tour, she often garners as much attention, if not moreso, than any of the Top 10 performing Idols. At the concerts, fans gawk and ask for autographs and pictures, even though her role, up until this past week, has been primarily that of guardian to her brother. Yet, one sighting of her is often enough to send even non-Sanjaya fans into an ecstatic tizzy. It must feel strange in some ways to find oneself at such a juncture. She has not recoded an album yet, or starred in a film. But as I have said so many times before, the AI phenomenon has created a whole new kind of pop icon-The Instant Celebrity. Being a high profile contestant on AI, even if one is cut early on, guarantees a level of fame that no money can buy. Yet the price, as BOTH Malakar siblings are quickly learning, is being thrust overnight into the kind of intense spotlight and scrutiny that most artists learn to deal with in levels and degrees. For AI contestants, there is no such luxury. They are thrown into the midst, at full current, and must immediately learn to swim, or sink.
“It can be a gateway to the career of your dreams,” Shyamali said, speaking of the whole Idol experiemce. “It’s a powerful tool to be successful in the industry.” But she also conceded the stressfulness of being involved with the show. “It takes singers out of their element, by forcing them out of their genre.”
Is that a good thing? Some might say that the whole idea of a singing competition should be to push singers out of their comfort zones. In a sense, AI works as a crash course preparation for a career in the music industry. “Performers put themselves out to be judged” she acknowledged, be it by record execs, the buying public or, as I prefer to call them, The Almighty Trinity-Randy, Paula and Simon.
But for Shyamali, a dedicated jazz singer who has had little interest in pursuing other genres—“I’m not that kind of singer,” she said, speaking of the pop divas that AI usually attempts to mold—the competition aspect of AI seems to have been something she viewed with an already jaded eye, even before going into it.
“You sit and watch all these performers, and you start to doubt yourself,” she said, speaking of the especial pressures of the Hollywood round. I had asked her about that experience specifically because, other than the drama of being cut, we at home did not. actually see much of her during Hollywood week. She performed a jazz standard, Nearness of You, for the a capella segment of her audition, but said that the hardest part were the group rehearsals. “You have one day for learning the chorus and harmony. Everyone stays up all night. It’s really, really stressful.”
Of course, this is a “stress” that AI producers play up—to the hilt. We all know that one such early casualty was Baylie Brown, the Texas cutie with the big pipes who had the misfortune to find herself de-harmonizing with Antonella Barbra and her friend Amanda.
It was, perhaps, part of the stress of group rehearsal that played a part in Brown’s early departure. Listening to Shyamali speak of the experience, one gets the distinct impression that most of Hollywood Week consists of three things—a lot of nerves, a heck of a lot of pressure and a lot of lonely nights—moreso than one might imagine. “I didn’t really hang out,” she said. Although that isn’t to say no close friendships were formed. If anything, the whole Idol experience creates a bond that ties many of these people together, and this is true regardless of how far any of them make it in the competition. Jordin and Phil, especially, became early friends. “We kind of picked each other out,” she said. The bonds become especially evident as one observes the interactions of the Idols, both onstage and off. These people are very much a family unit, an analogy that has often been made, but is never more true than observing them as this current tour winds down. Shyamali, however, seems to have no regrets about how her own Idol experience turned out. When asked if she might have done anything differently during that crucial Hollywood week, her immediate response was, “I don’t know that I would do anything differently. I’m okay with how I did because it wasn’t as if I did anything wrong. And I don’t know if it would have made any difference.”
The fact is, as most of us watching at home figured long ago, American Idol is a show with an agenda. Yes, they want good singers. Yes, they want singers who stand out from the pack. But often, it is not so much a matter of separating the good from the bad, or even the good from the mediocre, as it is simply deciding, who makes for best TV? Who will best complement the balance of this years’ crop, and who is apt to tilt it? In the beginning, it may have been easier for many to see the far more polished and poised Shyamali as the obvious choice. She was gorgeous, and obviously had a voice to die for.
It was also somewhat evident that she had the upper hand in regard to experience. Or, as Simon Cowell stated, plain old “stage presence.” Yet, in those months immediately following the Seattle audition, where she and Sanjaya had both received Golden Tickets—a time that one can imagine must have been the ultimate celebration for them both—the thought was never too far from her mind that things might not turn out as expected, or hoped. She had considered the possibility that competition would, indeed, force them apart. “I did expect that he would make it further,” she said, acknowledging that if it did come down to one of them, she somehow suspected she would be the one ousted. Again, however, this goes back to the concept of an Idol contestant’s “moldability” factor and the willingness to compromise by performing many genres. In Shyamali’s case, her certainty that Sanjaya would go further seems to have more to do with her own sureness of self, as a singer and performer, rather than doubt. “I was a jazz singer going in; I wasn’t interested in doing anything else.”
Yet, in many ways, she remained the invisible—and at times, not so invisible—force behind Sanjaya. Clearly, in the very beginning, before all the bashing had set in, before Vote For the Worst and Howard Stern had made him into the center of a media hate frenzy, Sanjaya had America’s sympathy. We saw him as this very sweet kid from a close family who, suddenly separated by the demands of competition, was now suffering from almost visible separation anxiety. Through it all, he often spoke of his sister as if she were the link that could keep him grounded to all that was safe, familiar and secure in what must have been an increasingly unsure environment. His first week out, he sang a song that Shyamali had specifically suggested for him, Stevie Wonder’s Knocks Me Off My Feet.
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Unfortunately, there were many who questioned if this particular song was the right choice for him, especially coming straight out of the gate. Although the judges’ bashing of the performance did seem quite disproportional, the general consensus was that he had simply tried to tackle a song that was too big for him to handle. I asked her if she had any regrets about that decision, and why that song in particular. She said it was a song she had heard him sing before, and knew he could do well. As with her own Hollywood week performance, she said she doesn’t really know what he might have done differently to stem the tide that first night. “I thought he sang the song well. He may have been shy, too timid, maybe, but the thing is, I think sometimes the judges just hear what they decide to hear.”
One might ask, is ANYTHING on Idol what it appears? Certainly not the three judges. “Simon is supposed to be a character,” she said, when discussing Simon the man vs. Simon the TV personality. “They’re all characters. Paula is a character.” And what of the vocabulary-challenged Randy? “He uses the word pitchy too much, and he misuses it at that.” (Laughs).
Of course, as the competition stiffened, Sanjaya eventually proved himself anything BUT shy—at least, onstage. Of all his most memorable “moments” I asked what was the one thing that made her go, “OMG, I can’t believe my brother just did that!” Her answer, without a moments’ hesitation: “When I was watching, and he came out with that ponyhawk!” Even now, after all the controversy and fame of that moment, it seems she can still barely resist the urge to roll her eyes in big sisterly disdain. “I couldn’t believe he did that!”
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Ponyhawk or no, she does admit that the whole Idol experience has brought them much closer. “We were real close when we were little,” she said. “But then, there was a period where we weren’t. When he turned 16, we sort of drifted our own ways for awhile. American Idol has made us closer.” She says that as brother and sister, they have always been “psychically close.” In fact, given their almost uncanny physical resemblance to each other, it’s not surprising to hear that they share many of the same traits usually associated with genetic twins. “I usually know what he’s thinking. It’s almost like we can finish each other’s sentences because we always know exactly what the other one is thinking.”
One trait they both share, for sure, is a spiritual affinity with the music of earlier generations. After performing Steppin’ Out With My Baby, Paula Abdul brought up this “old soul” reference when she critiqued Sanjaya’s performance (of course, this was also just before telling him he needed to “embrace” his “youth”).
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But when Shyamali performed Summertime, it was just as obvious that she is quite comfortable in the shoes of an earlier era. Is she likewise an old soul? “I’ve been told that before,” she said, with a hint of her famous, shy smile. Her luminous, dark eyes glowed with the joy of discussing the passion of her life—her music and her art. “I do seem to have a spiritual understanding of that music, and those songs. I’ve been blessed with that.”
Now that the tour is winding down, and the well-publicized move to LA imminent, the next obvious question seemed to be, what does the future hold for Shyamali ? Obviously, she plans to pursue a show biz career, along with her brother. And hopefully, whatever future projects she does pursue will give her the opportunity to step up to the plate as her own artist. With that in mind, she has kindly said “Thanks, but no thanks” to AI’s overtures to bring her back for Season Seven. With this move to LA, she said, “We are starting from scratch” but adds it will be great because “we can do everything we dreamed of doing.”
But with all the increased opportunities that Hollywood brings, there is always the potential temptations and dangers, as well. In an era in which it seems our teen and young adult stars are increasingly becoming human trainwrecks, does Shyamali have any undue concerns about the move, and the influences that will no doubt follow, not only for her own self, but the little brother of whom she has always been so protective? “No, not at all,” she said, emphatically. “The thing is, we know who we are.” It was discussed as to whether in some ways she might see herself and Sanjaya as “wholesome” alternatives to these current Hollywood kids who seem so lost, all the Britneys and the Lindsey Lohans of the world. Of course, I did quickly modify that statement, because as I admitted, “I don’t know you well enough to say that you’re ‘wholesome’ or not but…” Then it hit me, that maybe the word I was looking for was not “wholesome,” but “normal.” That is where the real dearth in the entertainment business seems to be these days. In a jet-set life where the weird and the bizarre quickly become the norm for most, Sanjaya and Shyamali appear poised to offer an alternative. But then again, as Sanjaya himself might say, “normal” is boring. It is not, then, truly a matter of “boring” vs. “normal,” or “wholesome” vs “wacko” but simply, two very grounded and strong-willed young artists who, as Shyamai says, know who they are. And who they are is what they both plan to bring to Hollywood. “I hope to be able to offer up something more for people my age other than partying and going to clubs,” she said.
Clearly, Shyamali has been a positive force, in one way or another, for most of her life. In the recent Access Hollywood clip that aired, showing her and Sanjaya performing together as kids, we see her even then, taking Little Brother patiently by hand and teaching him the ropes. In the clip, they are both dancing the hula. She is clearly the confident one; the poised one. She has the dance down. Sanjaya watches her intently, mimicking her every move. In the video, he is flawless because she is flawless. We can truly see exactly what she meant when she said, “Back then, everything he thought was what I told him to think.” What we see, as evidenced in the clip, are two children not unlike the sun and the earth. Shyamali in this clip is the sun, solid, bright, and strong, and little Sanjaya the planet that clearly revolves around her.
Flash forward ten years, to 2007. On the stage in D.C., they stand arm in arm, a humongous Birthday Boy crown on Sanjaya’s head as Shyamali serenades him. It is right on the heels of his big solo performance and he is clearly a star in his element. Yet, the moment Shyamali takes the stage, he is obviously in many ways that starstruck kid all over again, lost for words as he introduces “my beautiful sister Shyamali” to the crowd.
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But, of course, introductions are a moot point. Everyone knows who she is, and are as wildly receptive as if one of the Idols themselves had just stepped onstage. Well, maybe that’s not such an exaggeration. Shyamali has, in many ways, earned her place on that pedestal. From the moment she walked into her audition, and spunkily told Simon, “I’d be shocked if you jumped out of your chair,” she has fascinated us as much as, if not moreso, than many who may have “made the cut.” She has awed us with her beauty, wowed us with her talent, but most of all, has impressed us with her ability to stand strong for her brother and herself through every storm their life has encountered, both good and bad.
And yet, thinking back to the moment when Sanjaya ducked into the dressing room during our own interview to look for a hairband, and the good-natured but normal bantering back and forth between the two of them as he searched, made me also realize, as she had said, that theirs is many ways a normal brother-sister relationship. Meaning, they have their up’s and down’s, their times of being not so close, perhaps all the fights and squabbles that siblings usually have. I would suspect there would be something greatly amiss if they did not. But nevertheless, there is a bond so thick that it is almost visible to the naked eye. It is evident that perhaps especially now, given that so much is changing and happening in their lives, that they are both even more protective of one another than ever.
But that is not a bad thing, considering they will soon be moving into a world—Hollywood—whose reputation has been built on chewing up and spitting out young dreams and lives. American Idol has provided the Malakar siblings with a great foundation, but it will still, no doubt, be a difficult and at times scary world to navigate. For both of them. Yet, in speaking to her, I also kept thinking back to that spunky girl who told Simon she’d be shocked if he jumped out of his chair. And I could sense, in her eyes, that “old soul” to whom she referred, one wise and strong beyond her years. Her grip, as I shook her hand in leaving, was firm and strong. I thought, these were the hands that must have comforted Sanjaya so many times in growing up. And I thought, this is a young woman who knows who she is, and what she’s about. Yes, she may be the wind beneath her brother’s wings. But she’s also very much her own person and her own artist, and one determined not to sell herself short.
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Later that night, as I read through my notes and thinking back on the conversation, the one thing that kept coming back to me was how many times the words “dreams” and “passion” had been scribbled in my notes. These two things are the fuel that drives her. And I thought back to the whole conversation about moving to Hollywood, her seemingly quiet determination, as if to say, Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine.
“We can do everything we dreamed of doing.” For some reason, I kept going back to that quote, my tired eyes, straining to read my own hastily scribbled shorthand, falling on it like a balm.
It reminded me that we should not be sad just because it may seem things are winding down. That these are two young people excited about their lives, and excited about all their future is holding in store for them right now.
I was also reminded of one of Sanjaya’s own photos of Shyamali, the one that is posted on his Myspace page that is titled simply, “Nature Girl.” In that photo, it seems to capture the essence of everything she must have been to him—serene, strong, capable. It is these same qualities that I know will stand her in good stead as she embarks on the madness that is Hollywood, and all points beyond. I’m sure she will remain that wind beneath her brother’s wings. But she will also be finding her own wings, as well. And even though there may be turbulence, I can’t help but feel she’s going to do just fine.
I go back to my two favorite quotes from the conversation. They are my favorites because there is something in their unshakably firm resolve that lets me know there is nothing more beyond those words to be pondered, or speculated.
“We know who we are.”
“We can do everything we dreamed of doing.”
I can’t help but remember the last line from that infamous tearjerker (and one of my favorite films of all time) The Bridges of Madison County. It’s the final scene when the voice-over of Meryl Streep’s deceased character says in the letter to her grown son and daughter, as the two are spreading her ashes, “Go well, my children.”
I think of that line now, in reference to Shyamali and Sanjaya. That they are indeed poised to “go well.” And, hopefully, far.
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На английском. Может чего когда и переведу...
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On the night of September 9, 2007, Sanjaya Malakar, just little less than a few hours from turning 18, winding down from a grueling 59-city tour as part of the American Idol Top 10, paused in the middle of the usual crowd cheering competition that normally follows his solo number. Usually, the cheering competition is little more than an amusing diversion, a neat way to segue into Chris Sligh’s solo. Except on this night Sanjaya had a surprise in store. As the stunned hush fell, and audience anticipation rose, Sanjaya was as shocked as anyone as his sister Shyamali took the stage to lead the audience in singing “Happy Birthday.”
Taking only a few seconds to regain equilibrium, he quickly made the introduction: “This is my beautiful sister Shyamali.” It was a priceless moment, as the Malakar siblings, this brother and sister that we first came to know and love so well as part of American Idol’s Season Six auditions, finally stood onstage together, locked arm in arm, at the pinnacle of everything that has gone down for the two of them this past year.
It has been a long one.
And yet, it still seems like only last week that Sanjaya and Shyamali first strolled into the AI audition and into our lives. Both of them, of course, received the coveted Golden Ticket. But, as they say, we know the rest of the story. While Sanjaya went on to become AI’s breakout sensation of Season Six (along with all the controversy forthwith) it became easy, perhaps for some, to think of Shyamali as The Sibling Standing in Shadow. Yet anyone who knows anything at all about the Malakar siblings knows nothing could be further from the truth. As I recently had the pleasure of discovering during a recent conversation in Memphis, Tennessee, Shyamali Malakar is not only a confident young woman and artist in her own right, but through the years has been, if anything, the shining light of her little brother’s world.
This, of course, becomes obvious quick enough if anyone has followed Sanjaya’s career to this point, for even an iota of a second. In the beginning of the season, America watched the heartwrenching scene as the siblings were separated by competition. Instead of celebrating the fact that he had made it into the Top 24, Sanjaya ran in tears to comfort Shyamali. His first AI performance was a song that she had suggested for him. And, as the season progressed, rarely an interview took place in which he at some point did not mention the tremendous role of muse and teacher that Shyamali has played in his life.
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“My beautiful sister.” The phrase, without fail, that precedes almost every word Sanjaya utters in regard to Shyamali. When AI vocal coach Debra Byrd was interviewed recently, she spoke of Sanjaya’s intent to sing Wind Beneath My Wings in dedication to Shyamali for Idol Gives Back. Obviously, this was an important performance for him. Yet, as Byrd states, he could not get past the first verse without breaking down. It had to have been an emotionally charged time, what with all the media controversy, the constant bashing, the desperate drive to hang in for the long haul, all of it coming to a head.
Yet in the midst of all that, he seemed to look to his sister as the calming and stabilizing force. If one pauses to consider the lyrics to that song, it is the voice of one who stands in the light, yet acknowledges the one who has made that light possible. The one who had been willing to stand in the chill of the shadows. To be, literally, the “wind beneath” the wings.
Shyamali said that the role of teacher to her little brother was one she fell into very naturally. “I was always the bookworm. I was always the talkative one; the one full of facts. If Sanjaya had questions about anything, he would ask me. He was always forming his opinions based on what I said.”
But much as Shyamali Malakar may be the wind that has held her baby brother’s wings aloft, she is certainly much more than just Sanjaya’s “beautiful sister.” She is a star in her own right, one of Season Six’s most instantly recognizable faces, even without having made it into the Top 24. Accompanying her brother on the current tour, she often garners as much attention, if not moreso, than any of the Top 10 performing Idols. At the concerts, fans gawk and ask for autographs and pictures, even though her role, up until this past week, has been primarily that of guardian to her brother. Yet, one sighting of her is often enough to send even non-Sanjaya fans into an ecstatic tizzy. It must feel strange in some ways to find oneself at such a juncture. She has not recoded an album yet, or starred in a film. But as I have said so many times before, the AI phenomenon has created a whole new kind of pop icon-The Instant Celebrity. Being a high profile contestant on AI, even if one is cut early on, guarantees a level of fame that no money can buy. Yet the price, as BOTH Malakar siblings are quickly learning, is being thrust overnight into the kind of intense spotlight and scrutiny that most artists learn to deal with in levels and degrees. For AI contestants, there is no such luxury. They are thrown into the midst, at full current, and must immediately learn to swim, or sink.
“It can be a gateway to the career of your dreams,” Shyamali said, speaking of the whole Idol experiemce. “It’s a powerful tool to be successful in the industry.” But she also conceded the stressfulness of being involved with the show. “It takes singers out of their element, by forcing them out of their genre.”
Is that a good thing? Some might say that the whole idea of a singing competition should be to push singers out of their comfort zones. In a sense, AI works as a crash course preparation for a career in the music industry. “Performers put themselves out to be judged” she acknowledged, be it by record execs, the buying public or, as I prefer to call them, The Almighty Trinity-Randy, Paula and Simon.
But for Shyamali, a dedicated jazz singer who has had little interest in pursuing other genres—“I’m not that kind of singer,” she said, speaking of the pop divas that AI usually attempts to mold—the competition aspect of AI seems to have been something she viewed with an already jaded eye, even before going into it.
“You sit and watch all these performers, and you start to doubt yourself,” she said, speaking of the especial pressures of the Hollywood round. I had asked her about that experience specifically because, other than the drama of being cut, we at home did not. actually see much of her during Hollywood week. She performed a jazz standard, Nearness of You, for the a capella segment of her audition, but said that the hardest part were the group rehearsals. “You have one day for learning the chorus and harmony. Everyone stays up all night. It’s really, really stressful.”
Of course, this is a “stress” that AI producers play up—to the hilt. We all know that one such early casualty was Baylie Brown, the Texas cutie with the big pipes who had the misfortune to find herself de-harmonizing with Antonella Barbra and her friend Amanda.
It was, perhaps, part of the stress of group rehearsal that played a part in Brown’s early departure. Listening to Shyamali speak of the experience, one gets the distinct impression that most of Hollywood Week consists of three things—a lot of nerves, a heck of a lot of pressure and a lot of lonely nights—moreso than one might imagine. “I didn’t really hang out,” she said. Although that isn’t to say no close friendships were formed. If anything, the whole Idol experience creates a bond that ties many of these people together, and this is true regardless of how far any of them make it in the competition. Jordin and Phil, especially, became early friends. “We kind of picked each other out,” she said. The bonds become especially evident as one observes the interactions of the Idols, both onstage and off. These people are very much a family unit, an analogy that has often been made, but is never more true than observing them as this current tour winds down. Shyamali, however, seems to have no regrets about how her own Idol experience turned out. When asked if she might have done anything differently during that crucial Hollywood week, her immediate response was, “I don’t know that I would do anything differently. I’m okay with how I did because it wasn’t as if I did anything wrong. And I don’t know if it would have made any difference.”
The fact is, as most of us watching at home figured long ago, American Idol is a show with an agenda. Yes, they want good singers. Yes, they want singers who stand out from the pack. But often, it is not so much a matter of separating the good from the bad, or even the good from the mediocre, as it is simply deciding, who makes for best TV? Who will best complement the balance of this years’ crop, and who is apt to tilt it? In the beginning, it may have been easier for many to see the far more polished and poised Shyamali as the obvious choice. She was gorgeous, and obviously had a voice to die for.
It was also somewhat evident that she had the upper hand in regard to experience. Or, as Simon Cowell stated, plain old “stage presence.” Yet, in those months immediately following the Seattle audition, where she and Sanjaya had both received Golden Tickets—a time that one can imagine must have been the ultimate celebration for them both—the thought was never too far from her mind that things might not turn out as expected, or hoped. She had considered the possibility that competition would, indeed, force them apart. “I did expect that he would make it further,” she said, acknowledging that if it did come down to one of them, she somehow suspected she would be the one ousted. Again, however, this goes back to the concept of an Idol contestant’s “moldability” factor and the willingness to compromise by performing many genres. In Shyamali’s case, her certainty that Sanjaya would go further seems to have more to do with her own sureness of self, as a singer and performer, rather than doubt. “I was a jazz singer going in; I wasn’t interested in doing anything else.”
Yet, in many ways, she remained the invisible—and at times, not so invisible—force behind Sanjaya. Clearly, in the very beginning, before all the bashing had set in, before Vote For the Worst and Howard Stern had made him into the center of a media hate frenzy, Sanjaya had America’s sympathy. We saw him as this very sweet kid from a close family who, suddenly separated by the demands of competition, was now suffering from almost visible separation anxiety. Through it all, he often spoke of his sister as if she were the link that could keep him grounded to all that was safe, familiar and secure in what must have been an increasingly unsure environment. His first week out, he sang a song that Shyamali had specifically suggested for him, Stevie Wonder’s Knocks Me Off My Feet.
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Unfortunately, there were many who questioned if this particular song was the right choice for him, especially coming straight out of the gate. Although the judges’ bashing of the performance did seem quite disproportional, the general consensus was that he had simply tried to tackle a song that was too big for him to handle. I asked her if she had any regrets about that decision, and why that song in particular. She said it was a song she had heard him sing before, and knew he could do well. As with her own Hollywood week performance, she said she doesn’t really know what he might have done differently to stem the tide that first night. “I thought he sang the song well. He may have been shy, too timid, maybe, but the thing is, I think sometimes the judges just hear what they decide to hear.”
One might ask, is ANYTHING on Idol what it appears? Certainly not the three judges. “Simon is supposed to be a character,” she said, when discussing Simon the man vs. Simon the TV personality. “They’re all characters. Paula is a character.” And what of the vocabulary-challenged Randy? “He uses the word pitchy too much, and he misuses it at that.” (Laughs).
Of course, as the competition stiffened, Sanjaya eventually proved himself anything BUT shy—at least, onstage. Of all his most memorable “moments” I asked what was the one thing that made her go, “OMG, I can’t believe my brother just did that!” Her answer, without a moments’ hesitation: “When I was watching, and he came out with that ponyhawk!” Even now, after all the controversy and fame of that moment, it seems she can still barely resist the urge to roll her eyes in big sisterly disdain. “I couldn’t believe he did that!”
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Ponyhawk or no, she does admit that the whole Idol experience has brought them much closer. “We were real close when we were little,” she said. “But then, there was a period where we weren’t. When he turned 16, we sort of drifted our own ways for awhile. American Idol has made us closer.” She says that as brother and sister, they have always been “psychically close.” In fact, given their almost uncanny physical resemblance to each other, it’s not surprising to hear that they share many of the same traits usually associated with genetic twins. “I usually know what he’s thinking. It’s almost like we can finish each other’s sentences because we always know exactly what the other one is thinking.”
One trait they both share, for sure, is a spiritual affinity with the music of earlier generations. After performing Steppin’ Out With My Baby, Paula Abdul brought up this “old soul” reference when she critiqued Sanjaya’s performance (of course, this was also just before telling him he needed to “embrace” his “youth”).
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But when Shyamali performed Summertime, it was just as obvious that she is quite comfortable in the shoes of an earlier era. Is she likewise an old soul? “I’ve been told that before,” she said, with a hint of her famous, shy smile. Her luminous, dark eyes glowed with the joy of discussing the passion of her life—her music and her art. “I do seem to have a spiritual understanding of that music, and those songs. I’ve been blessed with that.”
Now that the tour is winding down, and the well-publicized move to LA imminent, the next obvious question seemed to be, what does the future hold for Shyamali ? Obviously, she plans to pursue a show biz career, along with her brother. And hopefully, whatever future projects she does pursue will give her the opportunity to step up to the plate as her own artist. With that in mind, she has kindly said “Thanks, but no thanks” to AI’s overtures to bring her back for Season Seven. With this move to LA, she said, “We are starting from scratch” but adds it will be great because “we can do everything we dreamed of doing.”
But with all the increased opportunities that Hollywood brings, there is always the potential temptations and dangers, as well. In an era in which it seems our teen and young adult stars are increasingly becoming human trainwrecks, does Shyamali have any undue concerns about the move, and the influences that will no doubt follow, not only for her own self, but the little brother of whom she has always been so protective? “No, not at all,” she said, emphatically. “The thing is, we know who we are.” It was discussed as to whether in some ways she might see herself and Sanjaya as “wholesome” alternatives to these current Hollywood kids who seem so lost, all the Britneys and the Lindsey Lohans of the world. Of course, I did quickly modify that statement, because as I admitted, “I don’t know you well enough to say that you’re ‘wholesome’ or not but…” Then it hit me, that maybe the word I was looking for was not “wholesome,” but “normal.” That is where the real dearth in the entertainment business seems to be these days. In a jet-set life where the weird and the bizarre quickly become the norm for most, Sanjaya and Shyamali appear poised to offer an alternative. But then again, as Sanjaya himself might say, “normal” is boring. It is not, then, truly a matter of “boring” vs. “normal,” or “wholesome” vs “wacko” but simply, two very grounded and strong-willed young artists who, as Shyamai says, know who they are. And who they are is what they both plan to bring to Hollywood. “I hope to be able to offer up something more for people my age other than partying and going to clubs,” she said.
Clearly, Shyamali has been a positive force, in one way or another, for most of her life. In the recent Access Hollywood clip that aired, showing her and Sanjaya performing together as kids, we see her even then, taking Little Brother patiently by hand and teaching him the ropes. In the clip, they are both dancing the hula. She is clearly the confident one; the poised one. She has the dance down. Sanjaya watches her intently, mimicking her every move. In the video, he is flawless because she is flawless. We can truly see exactly what she meant when she said, “Back then, everything he thought was what I told him to think.” What we see, as evidenced in the clip, are two children not unlike the sun and the earth. Shyamali in this clip is the sun, solid, bright, and strong, and little Sanjaya the planet that clearly revolves around her.
Flash forward ten years, to 2007. On the stage in D.C., they stand arm in arm, a humongous Birthday Boy crown on Sanjaya’s head as Shyamali serenades him. It is right on the heels of his big solo performance and he is clearly a star in his element. Yet, the moment Shyamali takes the stage, he is obviously in many ways that starstruck kid all over again, lost for words as he introduces “my beautiful sister Shyamali” to the crowd.
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But, of course, introductions are a moot point. Everyone knows who she is, and are as wildly receptive as if one of the Idols themselves had just stepped onstage. Well, maybe that’s not such an exaggeration. Shyamali has, in many ways, earned her place on that pedestal. From the moment she walked into her audition, and spunkily told Simon, “I’d be shocked if you jumped out of your chair,” she has fascinated us as much as, if not moreso, than many who may have “made the cut.” She has awed us with her beauty, wowed us with her talent, but most of all, has impressed us with her ability to stand strong for her brother and herself through every storm their life has encountered, both good and bad.
And yet, thinking back to the moment when Sanjaya ducked into the dressing room during our own interview to look for a hairband, and the good-natured but normal bantering back and forth between the two of them as he searched, made me also realize, as she had said, that theirs is many ways a normal brother-sister relationship. Meaning, they have their up’s and down’s, their times of being not so close, perhaps all the fights and squabbles that siblings usually have. I would suspect there would be something greatly amiss if they did not. But nevertheless, there is a bond so thick that it is almost visible to the naked eye. It is evident that perhaps especially now, given that so much is changing and happening in their lives, that they are both even more protective of one another than ever.
But that is not a bad thing, considering they will soon be moving into a world—Hollywood—whose reputation has been built on chewing up and spitting out young dreams and lives. American Idol has provided the Malakar siblings with a great foundation, but it will still, no doubt, be a difficult and at times scary world to navigate. For both of them. Yet, in speaking to her, I also kept thinking back to that spunky girl who told Simon she’d be shocked if he jumped out of his chair. And I could sense, in her eyes, that “old soul” to whom she referred, one wise and strong beyond her years. Her grip, as I shook her hand in leaving, was firm and strong. I thought, these were the hands that must have comforted Sanjaya so many times in growing up. And I thought, this is a young woman who knows who she is, and what she’s about. Yes, she may be the wind beneath her brother’s wings. But she’s also very much her own person and her own artist, and one determined not to sell herself short.
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Later that night, as I read through my notes and thinking back on the conversation, the one thing that kept coming back to me was how many times the words “dreams” and “passion” had been scribbled in my notes. These two things are the fuel that drives her. And I thought back to the whole conversation about moving to Hollywood, her seemingly quiet determination, as if to say, Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine.
“We can do everything we dreamed of doing.” For some reason, I kept going back to that quote, my tired eyes, straining to read my own hastily scribbled shorthand, falling on it like a balm.
It reminded me that we should not be sad just because it may seem things are winding down. That these are two young people excited about their lives, and excited about all their future is holding in store for them right now.
I was also reminded of one of Sanjaya’s own photos of Shyamali, the one that is posted on his Myspace page that is titled simply, “Nature Girl.” In that photo, it seems to capture the essence of everything she must have been to him—serene, strong, capable. It is these same qualities that I know will stand her in good stead as she embarks on the madness that is Hollywood, and all points beyond. I’m sure she will remain that wind beneath her brother’s wings. But she will also be finding her own wings, as well. And even though there may be turbulence, I can’t help but feel she’s going to do just fine.
I go back to my two favorite quotes from the conversation. They are my favorites because there is something in their unshakably firm resolve that lets me know there is nothing more beyond those words to be pondered, or speculated.
“We know who we are.”
“We can do everything we dreamed of doing.”
I can’t help but remember the last line from that infamous tearjerker (and one of my favorite films of all time) The Bridges of Madison County. It’s the final scene when the voice-over of Meryl Streep’s deceased character says in the letter to her grown son and daughter, as the two are spreading her ashes, “Go well, my children.”
I think of that line now, in reference to Shyamali and Sanjaya. That they are indeed poised to “go well.” And, hopefully, far.
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@темы: Истинные арийцы