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My conversation with Toby the other day brought up more than just memories of our relationship. It also brought up an old story that is as much a part of who I am today as being born.

Out of context, it probably means nothing to you, yet, but two lines of an instant message brought up a world of memories.

Toby: btw…when rascal flats came out i had to look twice to make sure that wasn’t you
Jester: ugh. they have my career

It was 1997 and I had been living in Nashville for around 8 months. I had a great job at the #1 Pop and #2 Country Radio Stations, 107.5 The River, and The Big 98WSIX. One of the new ads that got booked on WSIX went something like this:

Los Angeles Production Company is conducting a nationwide search for dynamic male vocalists for a new country project. Auditions will be held at [some hotel I don't remember] on [Date? Got me?]. Call for information.

I had heard the spot, but at the time I was still trying to get settled into my new life in a new state, with a great job, and I had just moved to my third apartment in eight months. I had also just experienced an emotionally devastating breakup with Toby. Yeah, I had come to Nashville with dreams of a becoming a star, but I realized that the number of incredibly talented musicians waiting to be discovered was staggering, and I just wasn’t ready to pursue anything.

My friend Devon O’Day changed my mind, and encouraged me to go to the audition. So I did.

Auditions were held in a large conference room, with a makeshift stage set up. There were probably 40 chairs facing the performers, filled with other auditioners. There was a guy in the back running a gigantic video camera, another guy in a suit with a cell phone glued to his head almost constantly. Sitting in the middle of the room was the “brains” behind the operation, Delious Kennedy.

You may not know Delious by name, but I can almost guarantee that any readers over the age of say, 15, are familiar with him. He was/is? in a band called All-4-One. They had a few big hits in the early 90’s, mostly R&B covers of country tunes. I Swear and I Can Love You Like That were the two inescapable songs that I’m sure you remember.

Delious had decided to get into the record production game, and with his contract with Atlantic Records, he had an inside track on successfully getting a new act signed. He wanted to put together a country version of *N’Sync or The Backstreet Boys, but without the awful choreography. Remember, it was the height of the Boy Band era. Back when Justin Timberlake was just that skinny white kid with the afro, and none of the Backstreet Boys had been to rehab.

He was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, a basketball jersey (Lakers? I don’t remember… it could have been purple or blue…) and a gigantic gold and diamond pendant in the shape of a “4.” His hair was cut in a fade, complete with those little lines that he paid someone to place there, but looked to me like the barber was suffering from hiccoughs.

I will admit, I didn’t recognize him at first, and when I did, I wasn’t nearly as impressed as most of the people in the room. I had just spent the last several months meeting everybody who was anybody in country and pop radio. And frankly, I preferred the country versions of their hits.

I had arrived early and immediately became worried. I have never really been plagued by stage-fright… and today was no exception; what worried me was the fact that I was the only person in the room carrying a guitar.

I watched guy after guy (some good, some who are probably still cooks at the Waffle House) go to the front of the room, stick a background tape (the precursor of today’s karaoke discs) in a little boombox and spend three minutes trying to convince the room that they were the best vocalist in Nashville.

One auditioner stood out from the crowd, he was short, dark haired with light eyes, and something about his confidence walking on to the stage made me sit up and pay attention. He opened his mouth to sing, I don’t remember what song, and this voice like Thor’s Hammer came out. It was a real “Rick Astley Moment.”*

Two more guys performed, and I was up. The guy running the show asked for my tape, and I told him I didn’t have one. He rolled his eyes and said, “so…. you’re gonna sing without music?” I may have forgotten to mention that I had a large black acoustic guitar hanging by a strap around my torso. I mumbled something to the effect of “I think I’ll try playing this guitar” but I am certain I was thinking, “Um, yeah, I’m going to sing a cappella, and this is just my newest piece of jewelry.”

I wrestled a stool into place, took a seat, introduced myself, and sang Bryan White’s “Someone Else’s Star.”

Alone again tonight without someone to love.
The stars are shining bright so one more wish goes up.
Oh, I wish I may and I wish with all my might.
For the love I’m dreaming of and missing in my life.

You’d think that I could find a true love of my own.
It happens all the time to people that I know.
Their wishes all come true so I’ve got to believe.
There’s still someone out there who is meant for only me.

I guess I must be wishing on someone else’s star.
It seems like someone else keeps gettin what I’m wishing for.
Why can’t I be as lucky as those other people are?
I guess I must be wishing, on someone else’s star.

I sit here in the dark and stare up at the sky,
But I can’t give my heart one good reason why.
Everywhere I look it’s lovers that I see.
It seems like everyone’s in love with everyone but me.

* unusual phenomenon wherein the physical appearance of a person is completely incongruent with the voice emanating from them. Named for 80’s pop star Rick Astley, whose hits, “Together Forever,” “She Wants to Dance With Me,” and “Never Gonna Give You Up” I still swear were recorded by a large black man, despite photographic evidence to the contrary. See also: Anastacia, Joe Jackson, Marc Broussard and Joss Stone.

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Related Posts from the Past:

• The Record Contract Index
• Record Contract Index
• The Record Contract; Part XVIII: The Hammer Falls
• The LA Slimeball was on Family Jewels last night
• The Record Contract; Part II: The Callback

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