Bringing home the Bacon

The third edition of the singing competition Queer Idol is entering its final phases, and the talent is really starting to shine. Drew Rowsome talks to competitor Nathaniel Bacon to discover what motivates his quest to become an idol.

"It’s not 1982 and I’m not Phoebe Buffay,” says singer/songwriter Nathaniel Bacon. “It’s hard to find gay venues for a guy with an acoustic guitar.” Bacon is a graduate of a strenuous theatre program that earned him both a University of Toronto degree and a diploma from Sheridan College. “But all the time I was writing and honing my craft and doing coffee shops,” he says. “The biggest challenge to my career is that I love both things and can’t give either up and focus. This is a big step. I’d been focusing on my acting, but then I saw a poster for Queer Idol.”

Bacon’s first audition, a pre-screening for the competition, was nerve-wracking. “I have a theatre background, so I’m used to auditions, but Goodhandy’s has a reputation as a sex club. I’d never been there, but I knew about their sexually themed events,” he says. “I was so not sure what kind of audition it was. I vowed, ‘My clothes are staying on.’”

All trepidations vanished upon meeting Queer Idol producer Ralph Hamelmann and, particularly, Mandy Goodhandy herself, who would pretend to hate hearing herself referred to as a welcoming maternal figure. “It’s such a warm, friendly place,” raves Bacon. “My first audition was in front of Melissa Azore, who was the musical director. I’d seen her before: a sassy black lady with a great voice. And I was doing ‘At Last’ by Etta James. Turns out it is Melissa’s signature tune, and here’s this little white country boy doing it.”

Crossing racial and gender lines is part of what Queer Idol is about. In contrast, Bacon experienced shoddy treatment when auditioning for the mercifully defunct Canadian Idol. He was told, “I would rather have a root canal than listen to you again. There’s nothing you can do about it, I just hate your voice.” This triggered an argument between the judges, with another judge claiming that if Bacon were a woman he would have been let through. “When he insulted me I made the split decision to not react,” Bacon says. “They don’t put boring people on TV.”

Canadian Idol’s loss was Queer Idol’s gain. During the Steve’s Music Elimination Round, Bacon delivers a riveting rendition of Beyoncee’s “If I Were a Boy.” Beyoncé is one of the rare current divas that Bacon admires: “Most current pop has no singing, no notes, no arc, no growth — it’s all confetti and fireworks so people will watch. Even I’ll watch it and I hate it.” (There is an irony in hearing Queer Idol contestants sing their hearts out on real songs just to see the crowd dance ecstatically to non-songs by Britney and Ke$ha during the interludes.)

“I’m a child of the ’90s,” says Bacon. “I heard Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill and listened to it thousands of times. I grew up in an old farmhouse in the forest outside of town with no artistic input, so I’d sing, watch TV and read plays. I saved up to buy my first acoustic guitar by cutting lawns for four months. And then I taught myself to play.” Bacon comes by his affinity for melody and song structure honestly. “My parents listened to AC/DC, Aerosmith or Dolly Parton. Dolly writes the most hokey stuff — and the most heartbreaking.”

Being a contestant in Queer Idol is a big commitment. “It’s a year of your life. A few people said ‘Nuts to that’ and dropped out, but I’m dedicated,” Bacon says. In spite of the competition, the show is a real bonding experience: “People want each other to do well. It’s sad when someone loses.”

Bacon claims, “I didn’t look up the prizes at all before entering,” but the full list rolls easily off his tongue. “$54,000 in total! The winner gets a ‘career launch’ studio package and Joey Wargachuk builds them a website. The Sugar Ridge retreat was an amazing thing. Converse running shoes, gift certificates at Steve’s Music, one-year GoodLife Fitness membership, Rainbow Cinema movie passes...” He has to pause for breath. “And Mill St Brewery,” he adds. “I don’t drink, but everyone else is excited about that. I’m a little bit of a health nut and my new year’s resolution was not to have a drop of alcohol.”

Bacon is a vegan, and thank you, but he’s heard all the jokes involving his last name. “People think I eat seeds, dry leaves and twigs that I find in the park. Actually, if I want pizza I just have to go to Kensington. It’s all about self-control and determination. If you really want it you can make anything happen.” Just the qualities he needs for the final rounds of Queer Idol.

Bacon has a channel of videos on YouTube and now several more on the Queer Idol site. Also, contestants have a prime slot at Pride this year. The exposure is good because each competition is decided not only by the celebrity judges but by the audience. It’s a 50/50 split, so the more friends and fans you have in the house the better your chances of advancing.

“I’m building a fan base,” Bacon says. “It’s a challenge. I’ve always had a small group of close friends, but I have no aspirations to be Britney Spears.” He laughs, “Please come. I will buy you candy.” But candy is all that’s on offer for now. Despite Bacon’s alluring performance style, he is in this for the long haul and states there will be no distractions. “I’m not allowing anything to come up in my personal life,” he says, and laughs again.

Queer Idol is the second Friday of every month at Goodhandy’s, 120 Church St. queeridol.ca

Drew Rowsome is an associate editor at fab and the lead vocalist in Crackpuppy. As one of the judges for Queer Idol, he admires all the contestants for having the balls to get onstage and just do it.