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'I'm here before it's too late': Scenes from Philly's 'American Idol' auditions

It was 8 a.m. on Sunday, and at Broad and Montgomery, I could hear gospel-singing. The sound wasn't emanating from a holy congregation, but from the front of a line that began just outside the Liacouras Center. Thousands corralled into the street on a warm summer morning for one thing: To be the next American Idol.

It was 8 a.m. on Sunday, and at Broad and Montgomery, I could hear gospel-singing. The sound wasn't emanating from a holy congregation, but from the front of a line that began just outside the Liacouras Center. Thousands corralled into the street on a warm summer morning for one thing: To be the next American Idol.

More importantly, to be the last American Idol.

The show's 15th and final season - airing January 2016 - brought a caravan of talent-scouting to the city for the first time since 2007, when an estimated 20,000 people showed up to be on the seventh season (David Cook would eventually win it all).

This time around auditions were smaller. Idol reps said only 5 to 6000 of 15 to 28-year olds crowded Montgomery Avenue between the Liacouras Center and Temple's student recreation center.

Idol doesn't have the reach it once did. There's been a marked decline in Idol's ratings - last season's finale was the lowest-rated to date - the former juggernaut has struggled to produce a star. Season 8's runner-up Adam Lambert, is arguably the last successful Idol. Season 11 winner Phillip Phillips just sued Idol producers 19 Entertainment to get out of his contract. What was once a considered a springboard to stardom now seems to hamper.

Yet, that didn't deter the the gospel singers.

Nor anyone else for that matter.

There were the Mariah Carey types capital-B belting Alicia Keys' "Fallin'" or Whitney Houston's rendition of "I Will Always Love You," adding runs and flourishes. There were the Taylor Swift wannabes with blonde-streaked hair and guitars and ukuleles and perfectly done-up faces, whose demeanors were so wholesome it's a wonder they weren't scouted by the Disney Channel already. There were a few young Justin Bieber-ites, pre-tattoos, with hope in their eyes and innocence in their voices that signified there was still some maturation left to occur.

There were some calmly milling about, filling out paperwork, no gimmicks, no showboating, just waiting.

Only once did I see someone vomit.

Among the crowd, I noticed Nick Urgo and his sign. "It's missing some letters," he said, fumbling with the peeling stickers that attempted to spell "Nick Urgo for American Idol."

The 22-year-old waited in line with his own personal cheerleader - his friend Jasmine Bernier, pom poms and all - after a seven-hour drive from Columbia, Conn. to audition for Idol for the third time. He'd never made it past the preliminary producers round, but he thought this year might be different.

"I'm auditioning to try to give my grandma one last really good memory before she can't really remember anything," Urgo said of his grandmother, who has Alzheimer's disease.

It's a heartwarming story, something regular Idol viewers have come to expect from their contestants. Combine that with his television-friendly appearance and even friendlier Top 40 radio acoustic version of Echosmith's "Bright," and he could have been a Hollywood hopeful.

But that wasn't how it worked on Sunday. Host Ryan Seacrest and judges Jennifer Lopez, Harry Connick Jr. and Keith Urban weren't even on-site and they weren't scheduled to be for two weeks. Basically, making it through Sunday's audition only ensured another audition Monday with executive producers. If contestants advanced past that round, they will have to show up a weeks later to sing for the judges.

That meant Analea Farr, who hails from Indianapolis, would have to return to Philadelphia to sing for the real golden ticket. That's more so a factor for the 16-year-old Farr's mother, who drove her the 10 hours to the audition. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing. Farr decided she would audition in Philly months ago. Forget America's Got Talent or The Voice. It was Idol or bust.

"American Idol is the bomb. It's the original," she said. "American Idol was the first show that aired for talent. It's the best. It's the only."

Around 8:30 a.m., they let contestants inside the building. That's where I met Philly resident Tamika Turner, 28, who had been waiting with her mom and brother since 2 a.m. She gave me her prepared bars of Mary J. Blige's "I'm Goin' Down."

Turner's age made her an outlier in a sea dominated by the YouTube generation. But there were others closer to the older end of the age spectrum. Priya Bettadapur, 26, Jordan Allen, 28, and Thomas Madrecki, 27, all traveled from Washington, D.C. They felt their age gave them an advantage over the younger musicians.

"This crowd's making me feel really old," Allen said. "I'm on the upper age limit. This is my last age and the last season. A lot of lasts. I'm here before it's too late."

As the morning progressed, contestants steadily passed through security and filed into the stadium. Eight makeshift booths were spread across the middle of the center floor, divided by only a thin curtain.

Instead of taking to their seats and waiting, singers dispersed to any nook, cranny and bathroom stall hoping to get a few more warm-ups in. I hoped they'd start collaborating and maybe put on a Glee-style performance in lieu of the unspoken sing-off that I'd found myself in the middle of.

In search for a bit of solace, I heard the soothing sounds of Alice Smyth's harp. She had lugged the giant instrument down from Yonkers, N.Y. to put her spin on Clean Bandit's "Rather Be."

"I thought, 'Why not bring my harp?'" she said. "At least it's eye-catching and that'll get me somewhere."

Smyth recently saw Kelly Clarkson, who took home the first Idol crown, at Radio City Music Hall.

"I got inspired again. I went to college for business - I didn't do music. It was the final season of American Idol and I was like 'What do I have to lose?'" she said.

Clay Aiken, the second season runner-up who recently lost a bid for Congress in his home state of North Carolina, sees a spiritual connection of sorts with the winner of this season and Clarkson. "Tell me the name of the last winner of The Voice. No one can do it," he said. "But people know Idols. This person this year is going to be like Kelly Clarkson. They're going to bookend 15 years of a lot of people who've had success on the back of this show."

That person might be Philly's own Rafi Taylor, 23, who made it past the first round. He was led into a back room off the stadium floor with 10 others who advanced to producers judging session the next day. Taylor sat taciturn, awaiting further instructions.

"I'm very excited right now," Taylor said breaking a smile for the first time. "I'm more excited than I appear."

Urgo and Smyth, however, were not as lucky. Despite his marketability and her attention-grabbing approach, neither made the next round, they informed me later via text.

I wished I could've said "There's always next year!" But instead, I have to settle for "There's always The Voice!"