We have reached the merciful, God-fearing, flag covered, chastity belt wearing, boot scoot boogeying end of this, the longest season on American Idol history. J.Lo’s legs couldn’t squeeze more cheese out of this show had they been wrapped around Seacrest’s neck. In summary, it was a little bit country and not at all rock and roll – a good old fashioned ho-down! Continue reading
It’s the final four, chickens. How do your brackets look? Are they busted or did you pick Duke to win it all? I’m not going to lie. This is the most insane season of Idol yet. It could be because I started watching 10 years ago and even though none of us have aged, and Yo Dawg has not expanded his vocabulary one syllable, the show has become the babbling, shoulder-tapping teenager outside the convenience store who just will not let up until he gets his 12-pack of Keystone.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: A country singer, a gospel singer, a rocker, Alfred E. Newman and a harlot walk into a bar. There they meet an Old Lady named Paula, a Dawg and a woman named Jenny who was just walking around the block and stopped in to ask for directions. In the bar, they see a stage with a lone microphone dangling from the hand of a tiny, tiny, tiny man in a suit. They decide to have a good old fashion singing competition…
This is not good. This really is not good. When the night starts off with the singtestants who have been voted off in the prior weeks: Gloria Estefan, Jr., Earth Mother Naima, Not Diana Ross, Pocohantas, Clever Girl, and the man you shield your child’s eyes from, it is not a good sign for the rest of the night. They came out screaming Pink’s redemption song, “So What,” and I couldn’t agree more. No, you are not a rock star. Not at all. In fact, you didn’t even win the tenth season of American Idiot. Who’s gonna win, asks the Fly Girl. The reason she asks is because no one knows. That’s how bad this week was.
Let’s just reflect for a moment on the twatwaffle that is Paul McCreepster. He was brought back and allowed to wear the only clothes in his bedazzled hobo bag. You see, after spending his last sheckels on this Elvis Impersonator knock-off, it’s all he’s has to wear (the last one being his selection for last night’s thing of my nightmares). Here’s the evidence:
Look McCreepster. We see you AND your magic suit of roses. We do. Now, go take a nap somewhere with Solange Knowles, Karina Smirnoff and the Karadashians. Moving on to the performances that actually matter.
I will not slash your tires this week:
It’s so nice that Courtney Love got a weave and a gig singing back-up for Idol singestants. She did a great job singing with that little trollop from high school, Hailey. Hailey has the crazy phantom Mariah hand but the love-child of Joan Osborn and Natasha Bedingfield chose a song that fit that gritty voice of hers and oh how she growled. How has she not lost her voice yet? Better yet, why? Adele will always and forever do everything better than this little captain of the cheerleaders, including breathing, but her performance didn’t make you scrunch your face up and cry into a pillow like when she stole your boyfriend.
One thing that is missing on the regular from Idol is someone who brings the R&B. And not in the Luther/Teddy Bear way but someone more like an Usher or a Ne-Yo. Not since that kid who wore the hat every week has any man tried to dance and sing at the same time. No, not George Huff. The other guy. So for that reason, I appreciated Stefano’s performance. Plus, arms.
Have an antifreeze-laced smoothie:
Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt has completed his move into Adam Lambertsville. He unpacked his chains, hung the leather curtains and sound-proofed the boudoir. What in the Mad Max and the Thunderdome is this, anyway? Watch if you dare, but I do not recommend it. My ears are bleeding and every dog in the neighborhood is at my door.
Get that aw-shucks-country-bumpkin offa mah tee vee. “Run around like you did for you last girlfriend,” says The Old Lady to Alfred E. Newman. Oh right. Like he’s had one. YOU HAD A DECADE WORTH OF SONGS AND THIS IS WHAT YOU PICKED?! This was something that some dudes in Nashville drummed up over their Starbucks venti mocha frappaccinos one afternoon. And shut up, audience. Stop clapping. You too, mee-maw. You know what? You are all kicked out. Every last one of you. My laser site (relax, it’s a cat toy) was on Alfred E. Newman’s wiggly bobblehead within 2 seconds of him singing “we were swinging.” I wish I could sweep his legs like Ralph Macchio did at the end of Karate Kid. Wax on, get off.
Jacob is a trickster. He knew what day it was. He knew was Luther’s birthday yesterday. He chose that day to bring out his Luther and it was so NOT Luther. I suppose Jiminy Cricket just gave up and gave in to Jacob and his cheeseballs. So he got to tell us that his father died when he was young, and that he wanted to sing this song for him. That’s sad, truly. But to sing this song about Luther’s deceased father, on Luther’s birthday, and dedicated to his own deceased father? Pass the bottle.
Speaking of hitting the bottle, The Old Lady got bleeped twice. TWICE! This is American Idol, lady. A family show. Despite Fozzie Bear’s increasingly crazy eyes (during a Maroon 5 song?), the judges tripped over themselves to praise the gingerbread headed wonder. No talking about choosing a Maroon 5 song, huh? Nothing at all? And adding to the silliness, Seacretin came out wearing a beard. No, Julianna Hough was not draped over his shoulders. He was making a funny by fake gluing on a fake beard. Oh Seabiscuit, we are so on to you.
So little Lauren got a gift certificate to Wet Seal and sang some stupid song that would have made Simon’s eyes roll so far back into his head that they would have been lost like your poor meatball all covered with cheese. This was 100% Velveeta and she knew it. Everyone knows it. Has anyone on this season’s Idol heard of any of the following country artists: The Dixie Chicks, Alyson Krauss, Dolly Parton? Apparently not. Truth is, there is no one here this season to put the fear of Gawd in their little patoots. Simon would have taken a lightsaber to this night. Here we are, a perilous six weeks away from the next Idol being crowned and we are being served up benign drivel in a denim and lace mini-skirt.
So the interns at Jive Records are staying up late tonight, trying to get ready for whichever singtestant manages to outlast the others. After tonight, there is no winning, there is only staying alive – and by that, I mean those of us who watch the show every week.
**Author’s note: Upon review, I have noticed that I have twice practically quoted The Old Lady’s comments. I’m going to take some time, get jury duty drunk, and think about my life choices.
Bottom Three: Jacob, Alfred E. Newman (ohpleaseohpleaseohplease), Stefano
UPDATE: For the love of humanity, Idol. As if “Soul Sister” has not invaded every elevator, commercial, grocery store and orifice in America, you inflict it upon us. And it only gets worse, I don’t care how you feel about Coldplay (you’re probably wrong) but to have Baby Lock Them Doors to utter any lyrics from this band is like a lizard walking upright. I saw my future, and it was not pretty.
So Jacob gets his chance to speak the most, which everyone knows, means he’s on the chopping block. Diva? Defend yourself. Technical glitch? Defend yourself. Also, sit down…in the ejector seats.
Oh David Cook is there! Remind me again of who he is, mamma forgets. He’s last season’s winner? You don’t say? Why is every single thing he did on Idol better than that crap he sang? He looked hot, though.
Okay! Back to the dramz. Whatever on the dramz – Stefano got sent to the plastic chair of death. Surprise, surprise, surprise – not!
Then normally candy coated Katy Perry came out as Sigourney Weaver from Alien and sang with fake Kanye. Wait a minute! Kanye showed up in his ferret pelt coat that has been around the world maybe on too many times. I get the feeling that thing stinks as bad a roadkill. Good performance, though (for the people there).
The show returns and they do the lovefest “dim all the lights” [sweet darlin’ cuz tonight is on its way]. Our little rigatoni is going home. Our David Archuletta the Second is gone. Is R&B dead? Is it? Ursher seems to be doing okay but maybe this genre is experiencing a lull. Maybe, perhaps ‘Muricah wasn’t ready for the Italian Stallion to sing and hip thrust. So here we are. Carol King is next up. Best be ready to cut a bish.
Welcome to Hollywood! What’s your dream? Is it to sing a song from a forgettable movie? You’re in luck! American Idol will promise you the world and then crush your dreams, in one fell swoop. Elvira is there? Is she going to be revealed as Seacretin’s mother? She truly is the Mistress of Milking of 15 Minutes of Fame. Take lessons, Idol Singtestants, because we won’t remember any of you in 6 months.
Reaching for the stars and catching them:
Witch! She’s a witch! Lauren made me like a Miley Cyrus song. I love that Kelly Clarkson is on tonight because you will understand what I mean by the comparison between Lauren and Kelly – The Greatest Idol of All Time (TM). I hope there’s a grand sing off a la…
VH1’s Divas Live. Dammit I miss that show. I mean, really. Dream pairings of real life divas sanging their ayasses ouff. BOW DOWN! BOW DOWN BEFORE THEM (not because you want to see what scraps Aretha left behind…Yeah. I said it!)! The trailer battles on 42nd Street. The hapless interns running to and fro trying to get the starlettes out of their ego-induced comas.
What I’m getting at is that Jacob took on one of the most incredible songs written and performed as demonstrated here and here (pass the tiss-ewes). So Jacob sang it with the restraint of a forewarned and humbled singtestant and took us to church. Apparently, his voice comes “from the place it’s supposed to come from” as Jenny from the Dump said. Where is that, exactly? I would have said it’s supposed to come from the baby of Whitney and BOB-AAAAAAY! 
But we know that’s not what happened. So, I guess she means it’s supposed to come from Fatburger.
Stefaaaanooooo. Weeeeelcome to Lavender Hill (*whispering* – I’m not wearing any panties). Really, I would have thrown mine onto the stage (despite his moon boots). I wanted to catch a rose that he tossed from the stage in me teeth. I wanted to go backstage and “surprise” him in his dressing room. Marry me, Stefano. We will have babies with great ass…ets.
I had some help this time in reviewing the show and that helped tremendously because I would have turned off Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt’s performance after the first two seconds. BUT! My headbanging friend jumped right in and sang the lyrics to the chorus as if OBGK was speaking English. I didn’t have a clue what that guy was screaming. Let’s not kid ourselves, having Ozzy’s guitarist out there was the tits and pretty much made that performance what it was.
I don’t know why the The Old Lady thinks it’s appropriate to continue to hit on the girl you hated in high school but he does. I thought Haley the show’s resident ho was pretty darn good belting out “Call Me.” Maybe she was singing it straight to The Old Lady so that she can get a “record contract” after she goes home because the other judges hated it with two snaps in a circle.
Did you see that advert for So You Think You Can Dance? Hooooo doggy I cannot wait to recap the shizzle out of that show!
Sleeping with the fishes:
Muuaahahahahaha! Goodbye, Scotty Alfred E. Newman Baby Lock Them Doors! You stunk up the stage worse than a circus elephant just off the Tallahassee to Nashiville train! No! No! No! Don’t tell me that he will not be in the bottom three! Nahnahnahnahanahaaa I can’t hear you.
Fozzie Wozzie was a bear. Fozzie Wozzie was not there. I thought we had established that close-ups of Fozzie’s eyes were NOT a good idea. Yet, I could have been his aesthetician at more than one point last night. Aside from him needed a good pore and pupil reducing treatment, that was way too Esperanza Spalding for Idol AND ESPERANZA SPALDING RULES! But she also got death threats for beating Justine Biebette for Best New Artist at the Grammy and now Casper the Floating Head Gingerbreadman will be ded. Ded, I say. Stoopid judges for their stoopid standing O. 
The Sanjaya of season 10 is still there. I refuse to talk about him.
Bottom three: That guy, OBGK, Gingerbreadman.
UPDATE:
Hallaleezy praise Weezy! Before we get to the good news, I’m going to drive to LA and punch the Idol producers square in their necks for continuing to pair up Alfred E. Newman and Trisha Yearwood for a good ol’ ‘Murican hoedown. Just have them sing “Islands in the Sea” and get it over with. And then what in the name of Sarah Vaughn and Louis Armstrong what that? I’m tired. So tired. Because he was part of the last group of singers, I’m going to ignore their weird rendition of the evil and delicious “Sound of Silence” and “Here’s to You Ryan Seabiscuit.”
After The Greatest Idol of All Time (TM), Kelly Clarkson schooled them fools on how to last in the bizness, Seabiscuit dimmed the lights to watch someone go, like he has so many times before. One, two, three, they went off to the cheap seats – Haley the Show’s (well, you know), Peeping Tom McCreepster, and the little prosciutto, Stefano. Would the female tweenie-boppers of America send another chicky packing? We would have to wait until Hip Hop Ragedy-Anne sang something about how she wants a California King bed (can’t she just order one?).
So! Who was going home? Take off your rose-covered suits, kids, because it’s now in the safe recesses of McCreepster’s suitcase. Good bye, Paul! The only way you out-shined the rest was with your neon sign-bright teeth! Maybe you can go be Rod Stewart’s understudy while he is on tour. He’ll probably break a hip within the first couple of weeks, anyway.
Elton John and Bernie Taupin created the songs that are the soundtracks to major motion pictures, Broadway musicals and generations of people the world over. So what would this week come down to? SONG CHOICE! With all the perfect, amazingly written and arranged songs the John/Taupin duo has gifted to the universe, of course it would come down to song choice, wouldn’t it? Because America voted off Casey last week, and the judges shot him from a cannon right back into the competition the coveted one-time-only Judges Save, we had eleven contestants to serenade us. Eleven will enter; nine will return. Oh the drama! Let’s go to the tape.
**Author’s Note: I wonder when American Idol’s interns will realize that the video link to the performances on the American Idol page says “What the performances again” (yes, I typed that correctly).
Wheat:
Hey. Where’s your boyfriend? He’s gone isn’t he? Yeah, mine too. That little tart Hailey slinked on the piano, dismounted the thing with the grace of a baby bird leaving the nest for the first time, and then finished her delivery of a sassy, jazzy version of…Benny and the Jets? Yep. The love child of Joan Osborne and Natasha Bedingfield found her sweet spot and created “a moment” for herself. Good for her. Goooooood fooooor her.
Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Randy back-peddling faster than Seacretin after announcing that his boyfriend’s name is Julian. He means Julianne! Julianne Hough, the female country singer/Dancing with the Stars champion! What were you thinking? The back-peddling is because Pia gave Randy the big middle finger and went with “Don’t Think I’m Not Gonna Sing Whatever The Hell I Want Let The Sun Go Down On Me.” It was another ballad, not something up-tempto, and she sang it so well that she made The Old Lady cry inside. Not the gentle cry of a few tears, but the howling ugly cry, contorted face and all. Oh, that’s how she normally looks? I see…
Our disembodied, back from the dead, gingerbread head got a beard trim. Nope. Still not talking about Ryan’s girlfriend – sheesh! Casey actually trimmed his unruly firebush upon the recommendation from one of the producers that he cut it off so that America can see his face. He didn’t go all the way, but we finally could see that there was something attaching his cranium to his corpus. Fact of the matter is, he picked THE SONG, “Your Song,” and he sang it well. It wasn’t Ewan McGregor in the elephant but it was sweet and heart-felt and that’s exactly how that song should be sung.
Little Lauren ain’t worried about a hot dang thing. She’s so solid in this. I would not be surprised if she Carrie Underwood-ed this entire season. Just you watch. On a related note, this may be our first all female final since season 3.
Chaff
Presented without comment:
What’s that you say, Country Crooner? You picked the only Elton song that had the word “country” in it? You don’t say. Lack of creativity? Check. Safe bet? Not so fast. But our little Crooner add-libbed a “Love you, grandma!” right into the middle of his song the hearts of the elderly ladies across this fine country of ours just melted. Puke. Truth is, every song he sings sounds like every other song he sings which sounds like every song you’ve heard on country radio. So, what happens to him on Idol hardly even matters. He’ll head to Nashville and get a recording contract.
African Earth Mother just booked her job at The Sandals resort in Montego Bay for a season. Good thing, Naima, because America is done with you. Well, except that many will see you on their honeymoon and at some point during your performance of the reggae version of “Sweet Caroline,” Kathy will turn to her new husband Bo, and ask him if he remembers where she’s seen this woman before. He will take a sip of his piña colada, slap his hand against his thigh, turn to Kathy and say “I don’t know, babe.” Kathy will continue to wonder about this as Diana DeGarmo joins Naima on the stage for a rousing rendition of “When You Believe.”
What’s a male diva called? A divo? Well, folks. Our resident over-singer Jacob went full-on D-I-V-O last night. He was just standing there in the middle of the stage singing “Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word” as the building crashed down around him, people fled the theater, stars exploded in the sky as our divo manned the stage like the captain of the Titanic.
Remember Michigan J. Frog? Okay, Stefano is my Michigan J. Frog. I carry him around in a shoe box and when it’s just me and him, he comes out with gleaming smile, his top hat and cane and just puts on a show! And then I put him back in his shoe box and take him to The Old Lady, Venus from the Block and the Dawg, and he just sits there. I even try to take him to a bar and show the locals what he can do so maybe I can get some free drinks and still, nothing. He’s infuriatingly inconsistent! I fear Stefano will always be Almost Famous.
Where does one find a rose-covered suit, an Elvis-impersonator’s garage sale? He’s like a magician with his bright white Julia Roberts smile, and his fake tan and his perfectly placed hair: look over here so you don’t see what’s going on over here which is the slow murder of your ears. Again, I just can’t with this guy.
TOE-TOUCH! I have been momentarily rendered speechless.
How do you solve a problem like Megia? She is a woman-child. Poor thing thinks she has to prove herself by singing songs that are much, much older than she is. I get it, I guess. She’s a bebe but doesn’t want to seem like the goofy, awkward girl who can’t walk in heels (she can’t) in a world of hardened performers who have been dropping CD’s at studios for years and performing in Coffee Plantations all over Los Angeles. Doesn’t work. Never has. Is Randy Jackson married? I noticed a ring. Anyhoo…
As the house boy band returned to the mansion, all but one sharing a knowing look before retreating to their respective rooms, Casey sat alone in the quiet and darkened kitchen. He knows. He knows they are all plotting against him. He knows that for the rest of this competition, he has a target on his back. But he also knows that tonight, he did it. He did it. He picks himself up from the table, gives props to the Taylor Hicks in the sky, and retires to his room to sing another day.
Bottom Three: Thia Megia, Stefano, Naima
UPDATE/SPOILER ALERT: Well that wasn’t a surprise. Our bird of paradise, Naima, and baby bird, Thia Megia, flew away tonight. Remember, if you love something, VOTE FOR IT ON AMERICAN IDOL or it will die a slow death of a reality TV star.
Gather round, chickens and I will tell you of the time that the Idols were handed the iconic music of Motown. Motown is some of the most singable music and yet, there are definitely some tracks of tears from the Idol stage all the way back to Hitsville, U.S.A. from some of our hopefuls. We are down to eleven, which means that not only will one unlucky Idolette will get the boot from the show tomorrow, but also from the tour and the planet. We all knew that this was going to be the equivalent of the triple jump at the Olympics for our Country Crooner, but for the rest of them, this should be easy, breezy cover band, right? Let’s just see about that.
The Good:
Thia Megia brought on a “Heat Wave” worthy of the Arizona summer. The youngin’ made it hotter than The Old Lady’s crotch in that Cache jumpsuit. Her rich tone and youth was perfectly suited for this Martha and the Vandellas ditty. Too bad it seemed like a magician cut her body in three because her head, torso and legs seemed to be separate from each other. All in all, Pochahontas redeemed herself.
That little Southern firecracker Lauren just keeps on hanging on. She is so very Kelly Clarkson that it is uncanny, even at this stage in the game. Her raspy voice and sassafrass did The Supremes well and she looked cute, too.
Jacob sang a duet with himself which is perfect on so many levels. Does he really need anyone else when he is making so much love to the audience and his own voice. You just can’t sing a DUET with your ego. I discovered, however, after watching for the show for the second time (yes, this is what I do for you, chickens. I watch the show twice to make sure there’s something I don’t miss), that if you don’t watch Jacob, he sounds better. So, after my initial angry typing of HATE HATE HATE, if you just listen to him and block out all the bunny impressions, he did well.
We knew this was going to happen but why oh why oh WHY did Country Crooner Edward E. Newman take on Stevie Wonder? I need brain bleach. It’s not that it was bad, but it made me want to cry because only Stevie should be able to “For Once in My Life.” I think they are going to make single out of that song and I bet it will do really well. Because he’s an American. A real American. Anyone want to bet me that it will be a certain Alaskan politician’s campaign song on 2012?
It pains me, PAINS me to put Paul McCreepster in on this side of the dividing line but he didn’t make me grab my rape whistle. He (thankfully) stood in one place and strummed his gee-tar and sang well enough. So there you go.
The Unacceptable:
Fozzie Wozzie is no Joe Cocker. Fozzie Wozzie was terrible – shocker! Fozzie is mad about something. Maybe it was all that Teen Spirit he was smelling last week. He scrunted “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” while performing that perilous trick of singing and walking at the same time. Not only did he look like a chicken searching for food, he sounded like he was being chased by the farmer at dinner time. Fozzie Galifianakis is too big for his beard. Time to knock him down a few pegs.
Did Stephano screw up the words colossally or did someone actually choose that arrangement? Lionel Richie should be rolling over in his grave. Don’t tell me he’s alive because he died last night hearing that jumble of words that was once his song. We really need to re-visit this video. It’s just the funniest, oddest concept. He’s a professor stalking his student – his blind student – and he asks “is it me you’re looking for?”
But I digress. Stefano, dear, you’re in trouble.
The thing about that girl you never liked in high school is that there really isn’t one thing you can point to that makes you dislike her. Well, except that time she made a play for your boyfriend. It seems that she just tries too hard all the time. All the time. And she made The Old Lady start screeching in her seat. Was Simon under there somewhere?
You know what’s not fair? Idol. You can be on top one week, and the bottom the next. I told Pia. I told her not to do this. She sang well enough but zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Yes, it was so Miss America – so pretty, so perfect. Too perfect. Better pick up the pace, picante.
That’s it. No more chances for African Earth Mother Naima. She tries to hard to be different and tonight was just silliness. She finally sang mostly on key but then she went and felt the need to really “connect to her ancestors” so she threw in some African dance. Um yeah no. Miss Ross never did that and neither should you, Naima.
Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt apparently thinks that “Living for the City” is a song about a man named Stefan who reviews the club scene for tourists visiting New York. Well, New York’s hottest club is called NO. It has Lambasters (Adam Lambert impersonators), screeching Seacretins, and babies wearing chain-covered leather jackets dancing on the bar. It’s not a place anyone should visit.
Bottom Three: Hailey (her name is written on one of the seats), Stephano, Naima.
UPDATE: So America put Thia, Stefano and Casey in the bottom three. Each deserving of it (despite my blind spot with Thia). Casey was going home until enough bleeped out moments lead to him being saved by the judges and then more bleeped out moments followed. Good job, Idol. Congrats, America. This is your 2011 Taylor Hicks.
The Dirty Dozen made us feel old by singing songs from the year they were born. No one on the show was born in the 70’s. Heck, only one person was born in the early 80’s. Before we get to the dirty, dirty and they are dirty because more than one of them was sick this week EWWW GERMS!, can we talk about The Old Lady judge? The one who wears all her old tchotchke jewelry from that trip to New Orleans she took 40 years ago along with her blouses from American Idol sponsor, Cache? She is not at all helpful. Everything is “beautiful” or “fantastic” and she loves all of it. Waaaaaaiiiiit aaaaaaa minuuuuuuuute. It’s Paula, isn’t it? How could this not have occurred to me by until this point? The wacky clothes, the over-accessorizing, the non-sensical comments, the fondness for pain killers. Now that I have context for The Old Lady, let’s move on.
OH KATE HUDSON WAS THERE! Preggers and literally covering her face with the remnants of two mini-bags of chips with Cheetos-cheese-covered- fingers because Seacretin gave her no warning that he was about to put her on camera. Maybe she will kill him for doing that to her. I’m going to pray to the baby Jesus that this will happen. Okay, maybe not kill but just muss his hair which would like killing to Seacreature. Also in the audience was So You Think You Can Dance’s resident screamer, Mary Murphy, which makes me very happy. I can’t wait until SYTYCD starts! But for now, let’s review those Idol pipes, shall we?
Six of One:
David Archuletta Part Deux (seriously, his story is very similar to little David’s, read: overbearing dad) sang If You Don’t Know Me By Now like he’s had his heart broken a 1000 times over, right down to the voice crack at the end. It was good and his best performance of the season AND the best of the night until…
This season’s winner (did I say that out loud?), Pia took the stage and KILLED IT! I mean, really. She is so freaking hot and can so sing! I think J-Lo needs to be ready to pitch Venus razors exclusively because I’ve seen the future, and it looks like Pia – a raven-haired goddess in a white satin jumpsuit, hold the Spanx. It’s as if J-Lo has been cloned and made in the form of Pia but Pia can actually sing. Now, Pia, take this as a warning because you really can win this thing – STOP SINGING EPIC SONGS BY EPIC SINGERS. It will come back to get you at some point and your fall from the top will be tremendous. No more Whitney. No more Celine. No one in their category, mmmmkay?
The disembodied gingerbread head that is Casey went for it with Nirvana. That’s right, Nirvana. And not just any Nirvana – the anthem that is Smells Like Teen Spirit. He brought out his big bass, which I love him for, and he did his best Dave Mathews dance and angry Ewok face and for the most part he pulled it off. He starts to make sense a bit more when you see the clips of his old people parents who are smart hippie types.
Trisha Yearwood, Junior was drunk on her anti-flu meds and almost giggled herself right off her chair while she was being interviewed by Seacrest. Now, I know you aren’t supposed to talk about anyone’s mamma but the pink, plaid newsboy cap? No. Seriously. I think her parents were on Teen Mom:The Prequel. Do you think they realized she was singing a song by big ol’ cancer survivor, Melissa Etheridge? Trisha Junior is what you call a raw talent. There is a Kelly Clarkson quality to her. She can do country but she kinda rocked it out, too. Speaking of rocking it out…
Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt sang Bon Jovi’s I’ll Be There For You. I wonder if the producer thought he was actually Baby Gay Kurt because he told him not to kiss anyone. Apparently, Overgrown Baby Gay Kurt and some of the other boys have a little “house band” at the Idol mansion. What does that sound like? Do you think they sit around on an overturned drum, a steel three-legged stool and the stoop just bangin’ away and free-styling? Yeah, me either. He did alright but his schtick is getting old, really quickly.
Karen broke into her “ethnic what it is-ness” again – The Old Lady’s words, not mine. What The Old Lady was talking about was the Spanish language. Karen came out looking like a Mexican Barbarella; ironic since she sang Love Will Lead You Back, and sang a verse in Spanish like a good racehorse should. She’s probably safe because she sang in Spanish while wearing black thigh-high boots.
Half a Dozen of the Other:
African Earth Mother Naima tried again to bring in da noise, bring in da funk. Instead, she brought in some pitchy Tina Turner. There is so much talent there but she can’t seem to get it together for the show. The clips of her rehearsing look like she’s going to slay it but then – disappointment.
Okay, look. As in LOOK AT THIS F*CKING HIPSTER! He took on one of the greatest, most soulful songs ever, Elton John’s I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues and just…well…let’s just say that when I came to, my clothes were ripped, I had a terrible headache, my skin was greenish and my living room table was smashed to pieces. Apparently he was sick but that doesn’t excuse his awkward Rod Stewart impression. I just can’t with him.
Pocahontas. That is all.
Well aren’t these little Idol hopefuls cocky? Two Whitney Houston songs in one night? I’m about to drive to California, take Whitney sans Bobby back to Isreal to be cleansed and sobered up, and bring her to Idol so show these whippersnappers a thing or two about how to blow. That girl you hated in high school took on I’m Your Baby Tonight and now I feel like we should all register as sex offenders. But it’s not our fault! She looked 18! Anyway, it was so creepy; it was somewhere between Toddlers and Tiaras and Teen Mom.
Little Scotty is the only real American in this competition. You know why? Because he sings America’s music, country music, and only real Americans sing country music. I don’t have a clue what song he was singing, nor does it matter. All his earnestness is exhausting.
Listen, there is no reason to add a clap-track under each song, especially a Heart song. These things shouldn’t have to be said. Also things that don’t need to be said – don’t sing songs that MADE former Idols. Carrie Underwood sealed the deal when she sang Alone on her season. Our resident over-singer had the coveted last spot. The last spot is like your grandmother’s favorite Hummel, the one with the little girl and boy hugging on the bench that she found at a Hummel convention. Jacob picked up that Hummel, threw it to the ground and screamed at it for lying there all broken apart. He got the last spot on the show and he destroyed it. Grandmother will be sad.
Bottom Three: Naima, Thia Megia and Hailey.
