The take on Blake: He's an original

Bothell's beatboxing local boy, Blake Lewis, one of eight remaining contestants on "American Idol," has never watched an episode of "Idol." He was always too busy performing in small Seattle venues or recording new beats in the makeshift sound studio his dad built for him out of egg crates and plywood outside their Kenmore home.

Maybe that accounts for this 25-year-old's unyieldingly original style. Part beatboxing Rahzel, part crooning Elvis Costello, Lewis' performances have won him acclaim from both the international voting audience, which numbers close to 30 million each week, and the triad of official "Idol" judges. Simon Cowell, the show's most curmudgeonly judge, called Lewis the best male performer this season.

While Sanjaya Malakar, the other Seattle-area competitor, has remained in the top eight and monopolized media attention in recent weeks, Lewis' fans remain firmly Blake-centric.

"If Sanjaya wins over Blake, I'll hate America," says Kaili Sandico, 11, a sixth-grader at Lockwood Elementary. Another sixth-grade girl, Natalie, swore she'd give herself a "Blake style mohawk," out of solidarity, should Blake lose. Bothell Mayor Mark Lamb declared Wednesday "Blake Lewis Day."

Last Tuesday, nearly 400 Lewis fans gathered at Kenmore Junior High School, Lewis' one-time stomping ground, for an "American Idol Public Viewing Party." For nearly three hours, the gym reverberated with the din of howling 13-year-olds.

The event was hosted by the Blaker Girls, a Kenmore-based fan club founded by Lewis' childhood friend, Kristi Redman. Redman and Lewis used to memorize lines from Jim Carrey movies together and still keep in touch regularly by phone.

"We talk about our days, just like we used to," she says. "Only now he'll be like, 'I hung out with Tony Bennett.' And I'll be like, 'Oh, that's cool. I went to the Alderwood Mall.' "

The Blaker Girls have sold roughly $3,800 worth of Blake-related clothing at public viewings and in online sales, says Andrea Edmon, Web master of www.blakergirls.com. Half of the profit will benefit Seattle's Children's Hospital and Regional Medical Center, at Lewis' request.

"It's so weird that Blake Lewis went to my school," says Kenmore seventh-grader Brett Nichols, 12, at the public viewing last week. Nichols wore a giant letter "A" across his chest; four other seventh-grade boys donned the B, L, K and E. "He's, like, Blake Lewis and he used to sit in my same art class!"

To be fair, as a seventh-grader, Lewis didn't spend a lot of time sitting anywhere, says Linda Hamilton, Lewis' junior high choir teacher.

"He was this little ball of energy, constantly getting up and tapping and clicking things and making noises," she says. "I thought he was just being irritating. And then in high school, he realized he was making music."

By all accounts, Lewis hasn't changed all that much from the seventh grade.

"He still eats like a kid. He loves pancakes and pizza and mac 'n' cheese with hotdogs cut up in it," laughs Redman.

Cisco McCarthy, 26, who used to go rollerblading in the local skate park with Lewis when they were kids, says "He's still a little ball of energy."

"He's always excited about something. If you don't see him for two days, he'll take you out to his car and show you his latest track or have you listen to some artist that he's just found." He'd always have a small leather-bound book with him — "it was his right-hand man" — where he wrote "floofy poetry" and lyrics whenever they'd occur to him.

"Blake is completely hyper all the time. He's always down for anything. You could say, 'I was thinking about doing ... ' and before you were even done, he'd say, 'I'll be there,' " says Ethan Newberry, 26, a friend of Lewis.

Last year, Lewis helped Newberry make a series of goofball videos for Newberry's Seattle-based comedy duo "Cupcake." In a video titled "The Harry Potter Rap," Lewis plays a full-grown, wig-wearing Hogswort boy-gone-gangsta. (Lewis' pre-"Idol" goofball performances are available on YouTube.)

After graduating from Inglemoor High School, where he sang in the school choir, Lewis began performing under the stage name "B-Shorty." He slowly gained attention among the Seattle underground scene, making small stipends at local venues like Tost and Nectar in Fremont.

"At first, he'd perform at these crazy, smoky, underground hip-hop places," says McCarthy. "And the best part was, you'd look around there'd be Dallas [Blake's dad], sitting in the back, watching the show. It's amazing how supportive his parents are."

Last summer, Lewis decided to quit his job at the construction company he worked at with his dad, to try to make a living performing. Two months later, he tried out for "Idol."

"It takes hard work and opportunity, and he has both," says Dinah Lewis, Blake's mom. "No matter what, we're behind him all the way."

Haley Edwards: 206-464-2745 or hedwards@seattletimes.com