The Time I was Almost on a Game Show: Part 1

When I moved to L.A., I had a fool-proof plan.

I was going to audition for "every game show" out there. And I was going to get on those game shows, because I think I'm smart (I'm not), and people generally like me (they don't). If I could just get on one...one tiny little show, I'd be set (to the tune of, at least, several thousand dollars).

It was foolproof.

And I got close a couple of times. I auditioned for "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader." Apparently, I'm not (fifth graders know that "yellow" plus "red" equals "orange," not "purple").

I also tried out for the show "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Apparently, my audition was pretty damn forgettable (they made fun of me for wanting to give most of my money away to my family...jerks).

However, eventually I did appear on a game show.

Well, kinda'.

I'll explain.

A little over a year ago I saw a "audition notice" for a show called "The Singing Bee." I was all, "Hey, I can sing! And I frigging LOVE bees!" So, I sent in my details, and promptly forgot about it.

Lo and behold, a week later, some casting intern wrote back, asking me if I'd be available to come and audition...at beautiful CBS Radford Studios (a place I'd been, probably, about a dozen times already, for background work).

So I show up, sign in, and take a seat in a vast "underground cafeteria-looking room." It was filled with tables and chairs -- in front of each chair was a nice little "release form," and a free pen (free-ish). I took a seat next to a scary-looking young couple who smelled like cigarettes, gasoline fumes, and meth lab.

It was here that I found out that the show was being produced by the Country Music Channel, and that the song-mix was going to be about 60% country, 40% everything else.


Shit.


I hate country music.


Oh well. I'll gave it the ol' "sporting try." I figured, maybe there'd be a lot of Johnny Cash and Dixie Chicks.

Did I say "Dixie Chicks?" I meant Merle Haggard. Yeah.

So, the concept of the show was basically "Don't Forget the Lyrics," except, instead of Wayne Brady, there was some woman from the show Reba. And instead of "good music," there was a bunch of crappy country music.

My task was to take a "lyrics test." This is...exactly what you think it is. A bunch of song lyrics, with "blanks" to be filled in.

I did my level best, and handed over my sheet of paper. There were, maybe, about 90 people in this first room...and I thought that maybe a third of them were "country music fans," so that was the third that was going to be kept...while I'd be given a "better luck next time" by the 20-somethings who seemed to be in charge of casting the show.

True to their word, there was a lot of "good music" mixed in with the country...and a lot of the country songs were things that I'd heard. But there was also a crap-ton of wild guessing.

After everyone had completed the test, we sat around as the the tests were graded. They read off the list of those who'd be advancing to the next round of the interview process (a group of 24).

They started reading the names...and...well, because you're reading this blog entry, you probably guessed that I was one of those 24 names.

Cool.

What now?

Well, I'll tell you.

They split us into three groups (of 8) for a camera test, where we'd get to play a pared-down version of the show. I was in group #1, which was nice, because I was hungry...and going first meant I could get something to eat sooner.

The casting folks took us into another room, lined us up against the wall, and executed each of us with a single bullet to the back of the head.

Wait, whoops. Sorry. Let me try that again. They lined us up against a wall and asked us a series of questions, drawing information from one of the sheets that we filled out earlier. That's right. Sorry, I got confused.

My turn came up.

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Tyler Rhoades."

"And Tyler, do you listen to country music?"

"All the time."

"Who is your favorite country singer?"

Pause.

"Oh, y'know. Johnny Cash. He's incredible."

"It says here that you're a Paula Abdul fan?"

"Yes. I frigging love Paula Abdul." (I don't, but I thought it'd be funny)

"Could we just get you to say that directly into the camera?" Apparently they'd been talking over the part where I said that...so they made me dance like a monkey. I was happy to oblige.

"I...frigging....love....Paula....Abdul."

"What do you like about her?"

Pause.

"I had her poster on the wall," (another lie). "It was the one where she was wearing a kind of leather cap, and..." (I imitated the imaginary poster, to the delight of the interviewers) "Just all the metal and leather. It was a pretty amazing poster."

"And can you tell us one interesting thing about you?"

Pause.

"I've been using Rogaine for the last three years, and my scalp has never been more luscious and full than it is now."

Laughter. Couldn't tell if it was polite or not. But...laughter is laughter, right? Self-deprecation FTW.

Anyways, they worked their way down the line, interviewing those other poor saps, and then the "game show" part of the interview started.

They had a laptop set up, preloaded with songs. They'd play a bit of the song, then stop it. If you knew the lyrics, you'd raise your hand. They'd call on you. Then you'd step forward and "sing the hell out of the missing lyrics," whether you were accurate or not. Because they reminded us, you don't have to be a great singer, just really animated and interesting.

If you were right, they'd ding a bell. If you were wrong, they'd push the button on a buzzer.

The game started. Nobody scored on the first song. Probably just early jitters. I didn't even try.

Next song started:

My heroes had the heart
To lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember
Is thinking, I want to be like them...

Uh oh. Gnarles Barkley. Crap. I can't understand the guy most of the time, but I like the song. Maybe I can snag this one.

Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little
It looked like fun

And the music stopped.

I raised my hand.

They called on me.

I stepped forward.

I was told to wait until the camera got a close-up of me. Then I was supposed to say my name.

"Tyler Rhoades."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"

DING!!!

Thank God that happened...because that part of the song always confused me. It doesn't really make sense grammatically. Though, who am I to criticize the great Gnarles?

And luckily for me, this part kinda' played to my strength as a singer -- I could give 'er a little "rock growl," without having to get too high, or sound too pretty. The casting folks looked sufficiently surprised, and impressed.

We continued on. I think I got two or three more songs right (pretty sure one of them was a Phil Collins song). Which, among the group of 8, made me the highest scorer.

Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that second part of the audition. I mean...I think they sensed that I wasn't quite the "country music" fan that I pretended to be...but I have what my wife likes to call "A Surprisingly Good Voice." Which sounds like a back-handed compliment until you get a good look at me...then it makes sense.

So a week or two later, I got a call from one of the casting folks. They wanted me to come in to do a "trial run" of the show for producers, writers, network execs, and the host of the show (that woman from Reba).

I agreed. And thought, "Aw, dammit. I've got to listen to a bunch of country music now, don't I?" So, I logged into CMT.com and forced myself to sit through the worst genre of music ever conceived -- young country.

Ick.

TO BE CONTINUED (and hyper-linked...eventually) IN PART 2!!!