Last night I was at a New York bar randomly showing vagina-toting music hipsters my Clay Aiken concert ticket and asking them if it turned them on. Bewildered by my possession, they would eventually ask the universal question of "WHY?!" But instead of answering that, let's answer the universally neglected question of "Awesome! How the hell was it?!"

Well?
Before March 7th's Kelly Clarkson/Clay Aiken show in Wilkes-Barre, PA, I've only been to one other arena-sized concert. It was outdoors, in uncomfortable heat, standing around for more than six hours just to secure a decent view of Radiohead. Clay's show involved standing outside for only one hour to get a predestined seat in the back of Wachovia Arena. While standing outside the stadium in frigid winds, I began listing the differences between a show like this and the ones I usually go to.

At an indie show, the fashionably late audience usually plays it cool, and as an unspoken rule, they generally don't wear a shirt for the band they are seeing. As for the Aiken show, imagine a giddy-fest that doubled as a "who can freakishly look like the biggest fan" contest. People adorned home made shirts with sequin lettering and iron-on pictures. They would gossip about Aiken trivia and show off the clever posters they made for when Clay doesn't read them. The audience was composed mostly of girls with an age ranging from six to sixty, and they were so charged and excited that they'd scream and howl when the arena lights dimmed. I flip switches all the time, yet no one cheers for me, except for they don't want to hear my music.

More Like P-U Sisters!!!
And in the darkened stadium the crowd didn't realize they were misdirecting their excitement to the warm up act, the Beu Sisters. They are four young sisters who look like they just got back from hanging out at a mall's food court. They harmonize songs with a guitarist sometimes backing them. These girls are high register sirens who could turn the tweeter box of someone's tricked out car into a weapon of mass destruction, and I'd prefer them more if they performed in a smaller venue, like my bedroom, but only if they didn't tell me to wave my hands around. In the air. Kind of like I didn't care.

More Like Kelly Who?
Oh yeah, Kelly Clarkson was next. You know, the winner from the first American Idol? Opening for someone who didn't win the second American Idol? The only thing I remember from her set was when she said "Oh my God, my hair's all sweaty!" and "I'm going to take my shoes off now. But don't worry, my feet don't smell!"

More Like Some Weird Cult
Murder some seagulls while blow drying your hair with top 40 radio playing in the background. That's what a Clay Aiken show is like: 60% crowd hysteria and 40% music is what it is by the time Clay made his grand entrance.

After the first couple songs, the American Idol runner up began to look like a stood up prom date. That's when I realized that he was the anti-Brittany superstar. Where Ms. Spears is the glorified backup dancer which decorates the trendiest producer's tracks, Mr. Aiken is just the wholesome nerd whose underdogged story unravels among the ticket sales. He doesn't dance (maybe a few rhythmic air punches) nor does he use sex to sell (not counting the photo shoots where he looks like the love child of Star Trek's Data and a girly version of K.D. Lang). And the girls love him. Can this mean the next generation of nerds are going to get laid more by the next generation of Girls Gone Wild contestants?

Among the crowd I'd sometimes see some fathers who were seated the whole time, arms crossed in an obvious "what am I doing here?" stance. But this is the kind of concert I would bring my kids to if they wanted to be future music goers or Girls Gone Wild contestants. It's a safe show with a charismatic simpleton. Clay can riff with the arena-sized crowd as if it were an intimate setting. He's even developed a routine where he talks to people's cellphones.

And that's how the hell it was. But does this mean I liked it? It was a surreal experience, but no, it's not worth a free 45$ ticket if you're not a fan. The music was generic and he sings some of the dorkiest lyrics known to man. It's just nice to know that nice guys can finish second. Do note that it won't get you numbers at hipster bars.