Quotes of the Day

Tiffany is ecstatic. It's been a while since the former teen star had an audience this big — maybe not since 1987, when she topped the charts with hits like I Think We're Alone Now. At the advanced age of 31, she has been trying to stir up some buzz — even posing for April's edition of Playboy — without much success. But this talent contest for faded stars on American network television, with the home viewers deciding who gets the grand prize of a new recording contract — well, this could be the start of her comeback. Her competitors? Vanilli, the surviving member of duo Milli Vanilli, infamous for miming their songs. And darling Debbie Gibson, now known as Deborah, another '80s icon who has made do of late with a B-level career in Broadway musicals.

This TV show doesn't exist yet, but it might — by as early as February in the U.K. and next summer in the U.S. The concept comes from a collaboration between the U.S. network Fox and British music entrepreneur Simon Fuller. At 42, Fuller is the auteur behind Pop Idol, the talent contest for unknowns that has been a smash hit in Britain and the U.S., where it aired as American Idol, and which is to debut in Germany on Nov. 9 as Germany Seeks the Superstar. But his latest idea strikes a wryer chord. "The working title is Second Chance Idol," Fuller told TIME, sitting in his temporary Los Angeles home during a rare interview. "It's where we go to people who have had a taste of fame, but sadly their candle has been snuffed."

If there's one thing that reality TV has confirmed, it's that almost anybody will do almost anything for 15 minutes of shame. Fuller understands this better than anyone. He, too, has watched in wide-eyed disbelief as real people have pranced naked in front of the camera on Big Brother or warbled in off-key optimism on Popstars. Their need for exposure has made him rich — his web of privately held companies, known as the 19 group, is estimated to be worth more than $300 million. But with the music-reality TV market now at saturation point, the genre must evolve to survive. And Fuller knows it. "In England, the bubble's already about to burst," he says, even as he oversees Pop Idol's second U.K. series, a global roll-out in China, Norway and other nations, and a slew of new shows he's planning with U.S. networks ABC, NBC and Fox. His solution is for the format to devour itself. "The clever thing," he says, "is to take it and parody it."

The blend of music, television and manufactured celebrity is a formula that Fuller has understood at least since 1995, when he managed top pop confection the Spice Girls, with whom he went on to 40 million-album success. Then in 1999, he launched the TV band S Club 7 — and later, their derivative-of-a-derivative youth offshoot, S Club Juniors. Hence, another of Fuller's projects, also still in the conceptual stage, is the AJs, a.k.a. the American Juniors — five American kids ages eight to 14 that Fuller wants to find, groom and turn into a band. The concept might be launched with a song-filled film — which would spin off into a TV series — about kids at a performing arts academy, which Fuller calls a "cross between Fame and Grease."

Not that Fuller is stepping off the reality TV bandwagon just yet. He has cut a deal with abc, worth more than $15 million, for a show with the working title Superstar Girl, which seeks women from 18 to 24 who can sing, dance, play sport and display some knowledge of the world. "If Pop Idol reinvented the talent show," he says, "then Superstar Girl will reinvent the beauty pageant." (He has also persuaded NBC to do an updated version of the old band-sitcom hit, The Monkees.) In January, the winner and runner-up of the first American Idol series, Texan Kelly Clarkson and Pennsylvanian Justin Guarini, will start filming an American Idol movie, a romantic comedy written by Fuller's brother Kim. And last week in Detroit, auditions kicked off for the second season of American Idol, with almost 6,000 clamoring for a shot at the limelight.

Like any virulently successful media life form, reality TV has mutated into a frightening array of species. It evolved from primitive organisms like Funniest Home Videos, reached its Darwinian heights with "watch and dial" shows like Big Brother, in which viewers vote by telephone to evict or endorse participants, and morphed into such overly elaborate creatures as The 1900 House and The Frontier House — reality-time-travel shows in which families live in the conditions of a bygone era. Anything goes, even The Osbournes — the veritélook at the domestic life of aging rocker Ozzy Osbourne. "It's become a staple, just like drama and comedy," says Mike Darnell, executive vice president of special programming at Fox. A lucrative staple, too. Take the final episode of Big Brother in the U.K., where advertising slots commanded up to $155,000 each.

Music-based reality shows emerged in most markets in 2001, with Popstars and Fame Academy — by the Dutch program developer Endemol, which also created Big Brother. Formats differed slightly; the objective of Popstars, for example, was to assemble a band, while Pop Idol sought an individual winner. (At the end of these shows, the winning bands or solo artists release records, often with startling success. U.K. Pop Idol winner Will Young's debut release became the nation's fastest-selling single ever. Gareth Gates, the show's runner-up, also had a No. 1 hit. Critics maintained that the sales were inflated because the records were discounted — a claim record company BMG dismisses.) Although most shows do well initially, ratings are becoming erratic. The 2002 series of Big Brother rated strongly in the U.K., but in France it only drew 4.6 million telephone votes — against 22.5 million for 2001. In Spain, Fame Academy, or Operación Triunfo, is gaining a high 40% share, but the U.K. version is so poorly thought of that wags call it Lame Academy. "For a while, any reality show was going to get viewed," says Darnell. "[But] now people will become more discerning."

Those people, for now, have taken to Pop Idol. The format is the brainchild of three Simons — Fuller came up with the concept, but it was fine-tuned with the help of Simon Cowell, a music industry executive (and the acerbic judge in the U.S. and British versions), and Simon Jones, head of FMusic TV, the company responsible for rolling out the Idol format globally. Contestants are whittled down to about 10 finalists, who sing songs over a series of shows. The format was a massive hit in the U.K. and the U.S., where the September finale of the first series drew 23 million viewers. The show has also screened in South Africa and Poland. Belgian and Arabic versions are set to appear in January.

Pop Idol not only helps Fuller discover new talent; it enables him to cross-leverage the different arms of 19, which he founded in 1985. Fuller has a first option to sign whoever wins — indeed, whoever makes the top 10 — taking a fee of about 15-20%. Fuller can then deploy one of the songwriters he manages — including Cathy Dennis, who with Rob Davis co-wrote the Kylie Minogue smash hit Can't Get You out of My Head — to pen tunes for his singers. (Dennis also contributed to the recent U.S. No. 1 record Before Your Love/A Moment Like This, sung by none other than American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson.) And of course there's merchandising revenue and money from the Idol tours.

Some industry watchers predict Idol will generate up to $155 million over the next three years in Britain alone, including ad revenue, sponsorship and record sales. In the U.S., Fox paid about $1 million per episode for American Idol's 25-show run. It seems to have been worth it; estimates say the show brought in more than $100 million through sponsorship and ads. Sponsors Ford and Coca-Cola have already signed on for the next series. For the moment, Pop Idol is the king of music-reality TV. "It's seen as the genuine article," says Jones, "even when some of the other stuff was happening before." Its prestige will be tested next month, when the program launches in Germany, where pre-show buzz has not been very encouraging. Still, early episodes should feature some 10,000 hopefuls in castings in four German cities. And Vodafone D2 in Germany has also signed up as a sponsor.

For a man who has amassed an estimated $265 million fortune by selling access to celebrity, it's ironic that Fuller himself is only now emerging from the shadows. But he is already a celebrity behind the scenes. At a recent Will Young and Gareth Gates concert in London, Fuller strolled around backstage like a pop royal, chatting to members of his entourage, record executives and singers. But in spite of the frenzy around him — he is frequently dragged aside for quick, private conversations and his cell phone bleeps constantly — his tanned face often sports a mellow half-grin. He is very personable and very tactile, dispensing hugs and hearty handshakes to anyone within reach.

Of course, Fuller's brand of assembly-line pop has been accused of causing the downfall of music, since interchangeable artists tend not to have long careers. But disposable pop has always been disposable — that's part of its tacky charm. Record companies dismiss such criticism as snobbish jealousy. Says Ged Doherty, president of BMG Music Division U.K.: "What reality TV has shown is that if you give the public something they actually want, they will buy it in their hundreds of thousands."

Not all music-reality TV stories have a happy ending. Early this month Hear'Say, the band formed in Popstars in 2001, split after being jeered when they performed. Said band member Myleene Klass: "Nobody deserves what we went through."

Still, there will be plenty of music-reality TV in the future. In the U.S., CBS is doing a new version of Star Search, and USA Network is going for a country theme in a show called Nashville Star. In Europe The Soundmix Show, an Endemol production which looks for the best imitator of a certain act, is currently airing — and is being rolled out to the U.S. And Second Chance Idol may appear on Britain's BBC as early as February as part of a TV charity drive. Whatever the reception, Fuller is poised to move on. "You've got to get in there while it's hot and get out before it's cold," he says.

Unlike celebrity versions of Big Brother, Second Chance Idol could genuinely reheat its contestants. Tiffany sounds game. The singer told TIME the greatest obstacle to her comeback was that "people have that vision of me as a mall girl. It's time for me to reintroduce myself as an adult." Her appearance in Playboy was, she said, "a quirky way to get publicity." With Second Chance Idol, if it's quirky she wants, quirky she'll get.

• JENNIE JAMES/Los Angeles
• Moving on from reality TV, Britain's Simon Fuller turns to parody