Can ‘American Idol’ Still Create an Instant Star?

Judging talent is a skill I should have mastered after decades of writing about music. But on the set of American Idol on a sunny January day in Hawaii, I found myself at a loss.

I had joined the production as part of an “industry” panel for the ABC show’s 24th season, a group that included Kelly Sutton, the first female host of the Grand Ole Opry, and Cheryl Porter, a noted vocal coach and Broadway star, along with six others with social media followings far larger than mine. In all honesty, I hadn’t been watching as religiously as I did during the series’ first decade. Then, it truly was a phenomenon. An average of 31 million people tuned in weekly at its ratings peak in 2006 to hear Taylor Hicks and Katharine McPhee belt their hearts out in a battle for the title. Two years later, Idol would inspire one of the first truly viral video moments when the results of the Battle of the Davids (Cook v. Archuleta) were revealed.

When it launched, Idol was seen as both a savior to the music business and an accelerator of its demise. The prize was substantial: a six-figure advance, a record deal, and the promotion power of a major label. It launched stars — Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Hudson —  and momentary celebrities (William Hung, anyone?), but mostly provided family-friendly entertainment with a twist: engagement. Viewers could vote and determine the outcome. They were invested, and negative comments from the judges only motivated them more.

The hope was that those viewers would then spend money on their favorite singers by buying a download of the song they performed on the show and subsequently recorded (a click away thanks to a partnership with Apple’s iTunes), and later a full album of originals. Some graduates saw genuine success as recording artists (country’s Gabby Barrett comes to mind), and some took their talents to the stage in other ways, like touring with Queen in the case of Adam Lambert.

Idol had its critics. It was viewed as a shortcut, where artists were anointed rather than being developed or properly “paying their dues.” There were those in the industry who pooh-poohed the show as an A&R workaround, arguing that just because someone sings exceptionally well doesn’t mean they can go on to be a star. Even the executives who prioritized development and dedicated their A&R resources saw mixed results. Jimmy Iovine, who famously produced or engineered albums for Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty before going on to run Interscope, and later partner with Dr. Dre on Beats, experienced this firsthand during his turn at the Idol bat. Philip Phillips’ coronation song “Home” was a smash in 2012. The rest of Season 11’s output, not so much.

To be sure, all those hours of television instilled some deeply engrained notions about performing, and who would resonate with a wider audience of passive music listeners. In 2011, I re-watched the first nine seasons for an official American Idol book marking its 10th anniversary. My main takeaway from that decade of experience was that the mission of Idol was simple: to make a good TV show. The career part, especially once the franchise moved over to ABC, was secondary. The label deals became smaller, moving through several companies (first it was Sony Music subsidiaries, then Interscope, BMG, and now Atlantic). Today, the winner receives around $150,000 — recoupable against their earnings, naturally.

With all that in mind, and the understanding that the music industry has seen seismic changes since that 10th-anniversary book came out (incidentally, the same year Spotify launched in the U.S.), walking into the 2026 version of American Idol meant bringing along some baggage. If we, as the industry observers, are expected to identify the one singer who can cut through the noise and find an audience based on vocal skills alone, it was a tall order with this group of 30 finalists, each of whom came ready to win. As a panel, we were meant to vote for our favorites, giving the person who scored the highest a guaranteed spot in the Top 20. What would it take to wow us all? And what might tip the scales to one finalist over another? Maybe a “pitchy” moment? Or a bad choice of song or outfit?

Spoiler alert: These contestants, many raised on social media and hyper-aware of their camera-ready selves, had full grasp of the job at hand: to be likable — and not in a performative way, but rather, to tap into their authentic selves for their two minutes on the stage. The fact that the Ohana round gathers friends and family for the showdown (they, too, got a group vote) meant emotions ran high — and got the best of one disappointed hopeful. But for the most part, they all delivered.

Being on the other side of the velvet rope for the first time, I couldn’t help taking stock of how much work is required of the “talent” on the show. From “hero shots” by the beach (do-si-does and vibe flexes among other exaggerated poses), to social media grabs at every opportunity, to the hurry-up-and-wait nature of a TV taping. The judges, in comparison, had it easy. Carrie Underwood, Luke Bryan, and Lionel Richie sat in their Hawaiian thrones mostly doling out compliments. Same for my fellow industry panelists, who responded in kind to singers like Makiyah Mustiful, Abayomi Lewis, and Jordan McCullough for bringing the church to the stage. Country singers impressed, as did the unique vocal stylings of dementia-care aide Brooks Rosser, who is all but certain to be among the last standing in the competition.

There wasn’t much debating among the industry panel. Each hopeful brought their A game and looked fabulous doing it. How were we to choose? As it turned out, the ones who took the biggest risk — by performing an original song — had an edge. There were several who went this route: New Jersey’s Jake Thistle, El Paso college student Julián Kalel (accompanied by his sister on violin), and Nashville singer-songwriter Kindal. Each chose to let their deeply personal lyrics tell their backstory. It felt true, and it worked.

That we gravitated to those music makers was reassuring considering so many of our charting hits credit multiple writers and producers, sometimes as many as a dozen. Yet here was a person with an idea, a guitar, and a dream. That takes more than being an excellent karaoke singer. There’s that extra something you need.

But my biases crept in. Maybe these talented hopefuls should stick to writing and forego the arduous road of becoming a full-time artist. It might be harder on their egos, but easier on their hearts, ultimately. Writing, producing, and making songs can be incredibly fulfilling. Granted, these creatives still need to contend with archaic royalty structures and the complications of streaming payouts, but not everyone is cut out to be an Alicia Keys or an Ed Sheeran (two artists whose songs were performed at the Disney Aulani resort, where the episode was taped). It’s hard, especially on your mental health.

On the other hand, these hopefuls were so diverse in their song choices — from Ashe and Finneas to Vince Gill to Journey to the Beach Boys to Frankie Beverly & Maze — that maybe the old rules no longer apply. I got to see this genreless generation up close, and it was remarkable. Standouts included rocker Genevieve Hayward, who wowed during the audition rounds with her take on Brandi Carlile’s “The Story,” mom Hannah Harper, and one-time Shawn Mendes opener Jacquie Lee.

I took copious notes during the judging, as you can see in the March 9 episode, and my critic’s hat was firmly in place. Maybe it was all those years of watching Simon Cowell nitpick, because I found myself doing the same. Some songs were too big for the singers, others weren’t big enough — not every pop snippet translates, especially ones that start in a lower register before hitting the chorus. Another gripe: The Idol backing band was excellent, yet a few contestants chose to play guitar unaccompanied at the microphone. Was it the right call? Viewers will soon find out.

As for our panel, we discussed the contestants’ ages and how they handled the stress of competing. We took note of their backstories, and were inspired by them. We recognized unique voices and range. But in the end, we favored musicianship over potential.