Hung up

WILLIAM HUNG IS a man of ideas. He wants you to be all he thinks you can be. He wants you to follow your dreams. He wants you to never give up. Ever. Especially in the face of a nation's laughter, pundits' disbelief, and a certain moment of public humiliation.

Of course, these aren't new ideas. You might even hear something similar from your coach, teacher, therapist, or friendly neighborhood karaoke host.

If Hung sounds like a nagging stage mother of sorts, then you're probably not far from some kind of truth. I'm not saying Hung is a mouthpiece for his parental units, but the thought did flash by me as Hung spoke to me from a car speeding to the airport from an in-store at San Mateo's Tower Records. The clamor coming from his sister as he conducted the interview threatened to drown out his abbreviated, Tony Robbins-like declarations.

Oh yeah, and he has yet another idea for me and you. Particularly me, considering my suggestion in this space last week about Hung playing to mainstream America's deeply cherished stereotypes about no-nothing, just-off-the-jet immigrants. He may be a civil engineering major, but that doesn't mean he's just your typical Asian American academic grind. "That's the whole point I want to drive across to you," he said as the hollow roar of traffic came to a crescendo in the background. "I don't necessarily portray those stereotypes – that Asian kids are supposed to be doctors, pre-meds, engineers. I don't have to be that. I can be a singer ..."

And what's wrong with being an engineer? Especially when you sing like Hung. Thinking about my own father, who, with other then-young Chinese American engineers, worked on a Bay Bridge off-ramp as well as other California roads and bridges, I had to wonder why those kinds of career choices seem so unexciting and unglamorous these days. It's not good enough to be a working stiff like Pop, because, didn't you hear the news, everybody is a star. Sly Stone told you so.

After all, Hung wanted to be an American idol, not an American singer, musician, or artist. And though his popularity breaks down into a intriguing admixture of Up with (Flawed) People gung-ho spirit, never-say-die persistence, and Asian American pride, I have a sneaking suspicion that a large, unsung portion of his appeal centers on not only his comical vocals and appearance but also some sort of residual racism. Hung plays into mainstream America's mocking derision of that goofy Chinese guy trying to catch up to the school bus, get into the frat, curry your favor. Sure, he's a feel-good performer. Watching and listening to him, everyone feels better about themselves because they're not, um, Hung. And we're not even going to get into all the jokes about his name.

Why let a little problem like a lack of ability to carry a tune stop you in your drive to be a pop star? So what if your chosen métier doesn't usually value your "unique sound" – and serious pop contenders like Asian American rapper Jin can't get the time of day on The Tonight Show – Hung has found a wormhole of acceptance, landed on the Top 40 with the CD-DVD Inspiration (Koch), and is milking it like a Class A opportunist, though even the independent idol said he doesn't care for his album.

Inspiration was recorded in one rushed day and sounds more like a one-off karaoke recording than a studio album. "My album captures my personality well overall," Hung said. "But it doesn't capture my capabilities and my potential capabilities and developing talents.... But the record company wanted to take advantage of the marketability of the album, and it's a great accomplishment within that one day, so I'm happy with the decision. You got to strike while the audience is still there, going hard and everything."

And it's hard listening. As I write, I'm having a rough time concentrating and making it through the Inspiration DVD, which, judging from the scenes of Hung hanging out on the UC Berkeley campus, seems propelled by Cal pride as well as by API pride. Let's just say this isn't ideal background music for study hall – Hung's no Mozart. Inspiration is as herky-jerky as Hung's stiff, puppetlike dance style.

Compare the fretting and furor over Courtney Love's public suckling sessions and Janet Jackson's piercing headaches to the hype about and idol-ation of Hung out on the other side of the pop spectrum: he's the wholesome, ever striving innocent just "trying his best" and screwing up in public like a big kid. The only thing Hung and company might have gleaned from a post-'90s culture weaned on outrage was a Teflon-style tolerance for derision and an acceptance of scandal and sensation as a kind of performance art. And the Hungmeister continues to make people stop and wonder: he was all over local sports talk radio a few weeks ago, when the gab stopped and centered around his lousy singing at the Golden State Warriors game.

He's become a heedless, inevitable part of the entertainment landscape, oblivious to criticism, the next logical step in the David Letterman comic aesthetic of poking fun at (or "celebrating") ever loving, earnest, working "little people" who just happen to be people of color. Hung's laughing his weird little halting laugh all the way to the bank – he was preparing to perform on the Jimmy Kimmel show later that day, and the next week he was scheduled to appear on American Idol: Uncut, Uncensored and Untalented. That definitely makes up for any peg as America's favorite novelty performer or comedy act, to which he responded, "Act? I think people know I'm a genuine person. I don't put on an act – that's what other people have said. But I am at Berkeley. I have the brains. I don't act in other people's interest. I act in my own best interest overall."

Making the grade On the other side of the brainy divide, some folks will really be hitting the books – or rather, the literary journals – over at the Hemlock Tavern April 24. Drag City's lit mag, the Minus Times, will throw a free happy-hour event with editor Hunter Kennedy and Bay Area singer-songwriter and M.T. contributor Hudson Bell reading from unpublished works. M.C. Taylor of the Court and Spark will play from perhaps published, perhaps unpublished recordings.

Bell's been contributing since issue 24, when he was the ripe old age of 24, because he's a believer in the word. "It just seems that now, people are so shy of their lyrics," he said in an e-mail. "They bury 'em up in lots of guitars, or they have, like, two lines to the verse. But you know, depending on the song, that's cool. I don't think people are turned off by books. I just think it's like anything else. Books hit you when they're supposed to. Like music."

The M.T. strikes Bell as different from most ivory-tower almanacs. "I think that among most of the lit things that come out, the M.T. has a totally fresh edge that isn't seen, or maybe allowed, depending on the editors, in most fairly known, even underground lit mags. Thing is, bottom line, it should be about the story – that's why folks should be reading, not because of the magazine. It's sad to think that writers will adapt their vision or style to accommodate a certain audience." I'm sure a certain bang-up "She Bangs" warbler can get behind that.

'Minus Times' reading takes place Sat/24, 6 p.m., Hemlock Tavern, 1131 Polk, S.F. Free. (415) 923-0923.

Pass the tip jar around; e-mail Kimberly Chun.