Previously: Kelly Clarkson sang her way into our hearts and then screamed her way right back out of them. Clay Aiken was a fan favorite on the internet; yet in the end, we all learned about the limitations of online support. It's a lesson Howard Dean has just learned, too. But in response, Clay's fans came out even stronger and made him a success. Howard Dean may end up learning this lesson, too. Or else, in a bit of internet fandom confusion, Clay Aiken will land the Democratic nomination for president. Which would make Tsathoggua very, very happy.
Ryan "Dirty Little Secret" Seacrest greets us all from a cheering throng (no, not thong -- at least not yet) of young attention whores, telling us that these folks have been waiting for days at their chanced to be used, chewed up, and spit out by both the television and the music industries. Ryan tells us that they'll be with us "every step of the way," by which he means "the one percent of the auditions we think will make entertaining television." He tells us to expect the unexpected. Well, I'll keep an eye for originality and depth, but I really, really don't think it's going to happen.
Welcome back, creepy polymorphous superstar of the opening credits. Stomp your way angrily back into our hearts!
Oh, I was so right in my guess in the recap of theWorld Idolresults show. The premiere starts with the same segment they used to fill up extra time during that hour-long snooze-fest. Except I foolishly declined to recap it then, so I have to recap it now. Dammit. Ryan narrates about the six-city audition tour that preceded the season as we see gastric bypass spokesman Randy Jackson, Xanax spokeswoman Paula Abdul, and American Psychiatric Association spokesman Simon Cowell unload from some cars and enter a building. We cut to a clip of Clay Aiken and Ruben Studdard singing absolutely horribly together in the finale of the second season of the show. Ryan reminds us that 50 million people watched that show, in which Ruben (barely) beat Clay in the votes. But here at TWoP, Clay beat Ruben handily in the category of "contestant with the most fans banned from the forums for unacceptable behavior." You really don't want to see what that trophy looks like. Ryan says that the contest will be even tougher this year (I doubt it), and we cut to Simon telling some guy that if he were to win, "he'd close down the FOX network." Hey, I'll listen to this guy shriek for hours if there's a chance it will get Tru Calling off the air. Again they play this idea that Randy and Paula have been "brought over to the dark side," because Randy has never, ever, ever, ever, ever been sarcastic on this show to bad performers, ever. At another point, Paula, dressed in what appears to be a bad acid trip, complains to some idiot guy who she says is wasting everybody's time. I bet it has nothing to do with him being a bad singer as it is that this guy appears to be really rude. Some guy grabs some water and throws it at Simon before getting tackled by security. Some woman tells the judges that they suck.
So, what are the judges looking for this year? Randy says they're looking for somebody with a unique voice who will have a long musical career. And then his pants catch on fire. Randy looks really different, and it's not because he's thinner. He's got his hair cropped really, really short and he's wearing earrings, and, honestly, has picked a personal style similar to some African-American lesbians I've known. Paula also lies that they want somebody with a "unique" voice. Simon repeats the crap he said in Season Two that it's going to be harder for contestants than Season One. Except this time, he's demanding even better contestants than from either Season One and Two. From what we see tonight? No. Not happening.
The auditions kicked off in New York City, and that's all we be seeing in tonight's episode. Don't take that to mean that we'll actually be seeing more of the performers than we did the past two seasons. It just means more padding. Kids line up. Some of them have waited for days to be summarily dismissed at the discretion of a random producer. After a pointless replay of crazy Nathan from Season Two (I'm spent!), we cut to some crazy folks from these auditions. There's a guy who can't sing at all, but hopes we don't notice because he's shirtless and has got a killer man-rack. Some other rejectee talks back to the judges that he deals with worse people in retail than them. Which is true, but he still needs to shut up and go away. And what was his point? He actually wanted them to be nastier? In the "good" category (definitely open to subjective interpretation), we cut over to Atlanta to see a bleach-blonde plasticine woman belt out "Black Velvet." Some young African-American woman sings "Proud Mary" with all the energy of P. Diddy after the marathon, but this is still considered a good audition. Another bleach-blonde plasticine woman sings well. We cut over to Houston, where there were nasty storms and crazy people. That's where we meet the crazy woman from the commercials who sings like Celestia. The one lyric the captioners can make out is "where his head used to lay." I certainly would have never had guessed that. A quick check tells me that this song is likely "I Can't Stand the Rain." In case you care, or want to go, "Wow! That's what she was supposed to be singing?" In Los Angeles, a girl walks like a robot, a guy sings the weird part of "Blue Moon," and we see that other awful guy from the commercials who sings "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" through his nose. In San Francisco, a woman shrieks "No!" over and over again. I'm sure you can guess Simon's response. In Honolulu, another woman sings "A Moment Like This" really terribly. I mean, worse than the version we're all familiar with. So if you're keeping score, Atlanta has good singers; all the other cities suck.
The confessional booth (you're not really a reality show without one) is back, and people whine about getting rejected or giggle about getting accepted. Except for our lovely Gilda Slice, who shrieks as loud as she can. Thanks, sweetie! I was getting bored. Some guy wears freaky sunglasses. Two other guys have apparently gotten this show confused with Backyard Wrestling Idol. Some guy sings badly while wearing an expression that looks like he has an entire lemon stuffed up his sinuses. More people complain.
Ryan asks why anybody would put themselves through all this trouble, like the king of all fame whores doesn't know. Oh, this is funny. Somebody's bragging got a little out of hand and they didn't tell the captioners to fix it. This is what Ryan says: "In the last year Clay, Ruben, and Season One winner Kelly Clarkson all entered the [product-placed album sales tallying organization] charts at number one, scoring record sales between them of nine million." Here's what the captioning reads: "In the last year Clay, Ruben, and Season One winner Kelly Clarkson have outsold every other recording artist in the world, with over forty million albums between them." Nine million, forty million -- it's easy to make little mistakes like that. Ryan wonders what people will be willing to do to get our attention. As an example, a really hot guy shows off his abs, and Miss Alli gets to recap him, so I hate her. Although I'll probably hate him soon, anyway. It always works out like that. A young woman shows off her panties to us by doing handstands in the waiting area. I do get to recap her. So, as a reminder: I hate Miss Alli. A couple of Klingons (no, really) tell the judges that where they come from, they just kill the other contestants. Simon snarks that he wishes they were around for the seasons. Ryan tells us that the actual auditions will be up soon, on this "extended" premiere of American Idol. The word "extended" made me go "Huh?" for the whole hour until I found out what he meant. And then I rolled my eyes.
When the Apocalypse comes, make sure you've got plenty of Starburst. Apparently, it has the same effect as marijuana.
We return to another New York people-waiting-for-auditions clip show. People waited! For auditions! A long time! Twelve thousand showed up. We see more of the audition area. Apparently those who perform poorly are sucked through Kelly Clarkson's gigantic gaping maw on the backdrop and sent straight to Hell. We start with some crazy guy in a green shirt and orange shorts and a red do-rag, who isn't even worth listening to because he just looks so bad. Then there's some creepy, spindly guy in a yellow shirt whimpering his way through "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me." But, as Ryan explains to us, they're New Yorkers (even though many of them actually aren't), so they've got "attitude." Some guy mocks Simon by mimicking his voice. Simon learns his lesson and never says anything bad ever again. Some girl in the ugliest peasant blouse I've ever seen says that the judges need to clean their ears out.
Ryan greets us from Grand Central Station for absolutely no apparent reason. He tells us it's the "heart" of New York. But how was the "heart" of the audition room? No, that's what he really says. Decent transitions: the bane of reality clip shows. We cut back to the auditions to meet Martha Krabill, who is in the Army in the 82nd Airborne and auditioning in her uniform. Simon and Randy make some thoroughly classless jokes about how they were fantasizing about a woman in uniform. I'm sure Ryan will be happy to oblige. Apparently, Martha's only barely in the Army, because she's awful at everything. She's the worst shooter and the worst cook. She can't do anything right, apparently, so she's here to sing. She's going to sing "Dancing in the Streets," which is just asking for trouble. But her singing's fine. It's not particularly compelling, and her hand gestures and facial expressions are totally cheesy, but she's not awful. However, everybody seems to treat her like she was. Simon tells her she shouldn't sing to the person who packs her parachute. Randy and Paula go, "Awww," but neither of them move her on to the round either. Paula thinks Martha should be on television, but Simon points out that she didn't mean on American Idol. Perhaps they realized that they wouldn't be able to get rid of her if she started to suddenly suck bad in the finals (see also: Joshua Gracin).
Following Martha, we get Staff Sgt. Paul An, who marches in (wearing a black suit, though) and spits out some crazy-ass military speech about stabbing people in the chest. I don't know for sure. It was nuts. And then he raps badly in a foreign language.
Wow, two whole auditions before another commercial break. Jeez. When we return, Ryan explains that people from all over the world come through Grand Central Station. Actually, don't people from all over the world come through New York's airports? Oh, it's another bad transition. Apparently some non-Americans have shown up for a chance to be the American Idol. Our first example is Roland Maxharj from Kosovo, who looks a bit like either Weird Al Yankovic or Kenny G., depending on the angle. In an interview, he tells us how American Idol represents the American people (and excuse me while I burst into tears) and blah blah the American Dream. Then he hits the audition area and proceeds to horrifically violate "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me." The judges all laugh at the foolish foreigner who dreams of being one of us. Yikes. You need to button that shirt up, Randy. Just because you're no longer obese doesn't mean you should be taking fashion advice from Simon. Roland's awful. Simon tells Roland it's a good thing he doesn't have to sing in order to get approved for immigration here. Outside, Roland tells Ryan (wearing his "Let's not ruin this with words" shirt -- wearing the same outfit twice! I'm scandalized) that he wants to be a singer or an actor. Ryan suggests he might want to try acting.
up is Karmen Varjabedian from Bulgaria. She has mid-length, curly hair and a gravely, deep, manly voice. I'll give McDToBe credit for this reference in part for posting it on the board before I put it in the recaplet -- she sounds like Maya Rudolph doing her impersonation of Donatella Versace. She hopes the judges like her. Out in the auditions, Karmen tells them how she was in a competition in Cyprus and came in seventh out ninety. Apparently, though, it was a contest in sucking, because she's absolutely, hysterically awful. She butchers Cher's "Strong Enough." I will not make a "GET OUUUUUUUUT!" joke. I will not. She's awful. Randy tells Karmen she sounds like a man when she sings. She says that people call her in the morning and think she's some guy named Ivan. Heh. Needless to say, she does not move on.
But what about li'l Leah Vladowki? She's from Bulgaria, too. But she's cute and perky and wears a newsboy cap. Her family had some sort of Bulgarian Von Trapp thing going on. They were all singers and got visas to go perform in other countries, and then they all defected and never went back. Her voice breaks at first, but then she comes back and sings fairly well. Not really well, but well. And she's cute and young. So she's invited to Hollywood. It's halfway through the show and we've got our first invite. Jeez.
Commercials! We return for a couple of brothers and their great big gimmick. Jesus and Noel Roman are brothers who have been separated for six years by "family difficulties" and recently reunited. Everybody pronounces Jesus's name like the English Biblical version, not in the Spanish way. Jesus auditions first, and he's just all right with me. Yes, I had to use that joke. I HAD TO. You can't put somebody named Jesus in a singing competition and expect me to NOT use that joke. Plus, somebody on the forums already used that joke. I had to. It's a comedy law. He sings "In the Still of the Night." He's okay, though he warbles a bit too much. Noel is , and sings "If You Ever." He's not as good as Jesus, but of course, who is? They're both invited to Hollywood.
The brothers an inspire a clip show reminder of the horrible twins we've had in seasons past. Randy explains that they got another set of twins this year who can't sing. There names are Katrina and Edwina Rosado. They're wearing matching black corsets and horrid red and orange mini-skirts. And they can't sing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." They're all terribly off-key with each other, and with the song, and with the entire concept of "music" as a whole. Even Paula feels comfortable with saying that it wasn't good. They admit that they might have been "a little flat." A pizza is "a little flat." Those two were so flat they came out the other side, like a black hole of music or something. They aren't invited to Hollywood. Although Randy told them they needed a lobotomy in order to become better singers, the twins still dwell on Simon's comment that they were "painful" in the confessional.
In one of these weird little interviews that are scattered through the show but don't really say anything, Simon blathers about New York being the center of "self-belief" (hell if I know), and he gets more frustrated with these delusional folks the more the show progresses. He insists he's not being rude for the sake of it. No, of course not -- he's doing it so people will pay attention to him. He claims that he's giving a "reality check" to these contestants, which of course is why the folks behind the scenes prop up the bad singers in the first place, rather then sending them home immediately like in any normal audition. He says they occasionally (as in "practically all of them") get a bad contestant that insists their judgment is wrong. We meet Rasheedah McDaniel, who is wearing a sleeveless top with an orange and brown print and ruining "You're the One that I Want" from Grease. Isn't that sad? That's not even a particularly challenging or interesting song. They all hate her. She refuses to listen. Simon asks her if she's ever sung in a bar or restaurant. She hasn't. Simon says that he believes that if Rasheedah ever sang in a bar, she'd drive the customers away. So they make a bet out of it. Simon says that after five minutes of singing, half the people in a bar would leave.
We cut outside to Ryan and Rasheedah at a restaurant. Apparently there's some sort of money involved with this bet. If more than half the folks stay to listen to Rasheedah, she'll get the money. Otherwise, she gets nothing. Ryan brings the Rasheedah inside to meet the folks and tells them all the deal. She starts singing some song that has no lyrics other than "I want to thank you for being in my life," and people start filing out of the bar almost immediately. She's so truly bad that I'm not confident in saying this whole thing is staged. She should probably be glad nobody's heckling her or throwing things. When she's done, there are like five people left. One guy gives her a hug and a lollypop. Awww. But she loses her bet as several strangers lose their lunches, and she's sent on her way. She can be happy in the fact that this segment is going to be dredged up all season, though, so she still gets to be on television.
Commercials. When we return, some guy named Jordan pretends to meditate quietly, before suddenly shrieking out the beginning of "Build Me Up, Buttercup." He had to be a faker. There was just too much comic timing involved there. Paula pretty much admits that when she tells us in an interview (where she's wearing a silly sun hat) that they get folks who like to come to the auditions to "clown around." But then, she says, you get somebody who comes in who you know is going to be "somebody special." Then we cut to this creepy, skeevy guy with a smile faker than a jack-o-lantern's. He gives the camera a double thumbs-up in the waiting area, so you know he's a total smarmy Chipster asshole. He's got that shiny face Chipsters have, too. This is Michael Keown, and he makes my skin crawl. Even if it turns out he saved a dozen Third-world orphans from being sold to Michael Jackson, I don't think I'd like him. He comes in with his Chipster evening wear of a blue button-up shirt and ill-fitting black slacks, and talks entirely out of one side of his mouth. He's there to sing "Unchained Melody." Randy points out that song is really played out, so he better be good. Paula points out that, according to Michael's bio, he's sung for the Pope. Yeah, but isn't that guy totally deaf now? Michael also mentions that he's sung twice before the Clintons. So he's also humble. His rendition of "Unchained Melody" is smarmy and boring, and he has one eyebrow raised the whole time, making him look like The Rock's skinny little cousin. And he sings really, really slow. But the judges all love him and he's invited to Hollywood.
, Randy introduces us to "Scat-girl" in an interview, and we should all be grateful that this is an old blues reference and that we're not watching Oz, where this would all mean something horribly different. Randy explains to us what scat singing is, and gives us a brief sample of "doobie, doobie, doobie"s. Scat-girl is a young woman named Jacqueline Roman, who Randy diplomatically declares is the most "interesting" person they've met so far. We meet Jacqueline right as she's about to start her audition. She's a little large, and a bit unkempt, wearing an unflattering pale blue top that probably wouldn't look good on any human being anywhere. She's there to "sing" "Route 66." She starts, and it's just…sounds. You can't even call it "scat," because you can at least describe the sounds they make. Even the closed captioners don't know what to do. There's just nothing for most of the song. I think I could make out several "Sree"s and a "be-yow" or two. She stands there, spitting out weird sounds with her eyes closed and making the "I've had it up to here!" gesture with her right hand. About halfway through, she actually tosses in some of the words, and a grateful closed captioner Googles the lyrics to make it through the rest of the song. I hope those people get extra money for doing this show. She ends the performance with an ear-piercing shriek. Simon tells her it was awful. He asks her how she thinks she did. She said she did her best with "God on her side." Simon responds that God has taken the day off. Well, it's no "God is in the tub," but it's close. Also, God already sent his representative earlier in the show. She's not invited to the round. Duh. In the confessional, she tearfully thanks them all for their comments (even Simon) and hopes they have a good season.
More commercials. I'm terribly sorry to have missed this, but one of the Los Angeles affiliates interrupted programming for several hours Monday to report on the escapades of a chimpanzee that escaped from its cage at a zoo. See, L.A. news cares about more than just car chases!
When we return, Randy reminds that Clay Aiken came in second place last season, because that piece of trivia has been lost to the ages due to disinterest. He tells us that they met a kid in New York who claimed to be just like Clay. We meet a boy named Colin Leahy, who…well…I hate to be superficial (oops, hold on -- now my pants are on fire), but his head looks like a skull with skin stretched over it. He has an overbite so pronounced that he could probably bite off his own chin, if he had one, which he doesn't. He looks like he might have been drawn by Matt Groening. He tells us that he's a camp counselor, just like Clay. And he likes kids. And he likes to make people happy and smile. He seems kind of creepy. I suspect that he's a perfectly nice young man, but he just doesn't come off well in an interview. He seems a little bit more normal when he talks to the judges before his audition. Oh, wait. He chooses a song by the American Juniors as his audition song. That's just really, really horrifyingly wrong. I think perhaps, as your grandmother might describe it, Colin's "a little slow." And he totally can't sing. He sways and talks his way through the song. They all reject him. Paula points out the song was just one note over and over again. Simon says he couldn't have possibly hated it more. Colin takes it well, but then mocks Simon to the cameras after he leaves and says he thinks Simon's accent is fake and he needs to get a real job.
In an interview, Simon lies to us that he hates all the gimmicks the performers come in with. Whatever. He says you have to find out sometimes what is beneath the gimmicks. Well, that part's true. Maybe he learned a lesson from Josh Gracin after all. This is our segue to John Stevens IV, a redheaded Conan O'Brien clone (actually, doesn't he already have one? Damn. He's building an army!), who auditions doing a Dean Martin impersonation with "That's Amore." If you've read any accounts by anybody who auditioned, you know that the producers actually encourage the singers to do little wacky gimmick things to use on the show, but we'll all pretend that John just insisted on doing this. Simon "makes" him sing in his normal voice, which I'm betting he did before the impersonation, because they don't actually show Simon asking him, and he sounds good, if a little piano bar-ish. He's invited to Hollywood.
Need more bad auditions? Here's a whole slew of bad dancers, in a montage set to "Love Machine." Asses are shaken and slapped, arms are flailed, backs are flipped, robots are…programmed (I guess?), hip-hop dance instruction videos sold on cable are given quite a workout, jacks are jumped, and the guy Miss Alli gets to recap takes off his shirt. Is America ready for a male stripper as an Idol? Yes, I think we are.
Commercials. This is the point where I realized what "extended" meant, because it's 9 PM and it's not over yet. Mind you, we just watched a full minute of filler, so it's not like it ran over because they had no choice. I bet they thought that if they ran over, people would be more likely to stick around for My Big Fat Fake Stupid Pointless Fame-whoring Obnoxious Fiancé. I don't even want to know if they turned out to be right.
When we return, Paula generalizes that New Yorkers have a lot of spirit and feel the need to give us "the old razzle-dazzle." Yes, I know that every time I've met Sars, I could tell she was resisting the urge to break out in a flashy production number. ["…'THIIIIIS IIIIIIS THE MOMEEEEEENT!' Wow, I really do feel much better now." -- Sars] Also, Paula, that was Chicago. Also, sweetie, listen to the song lyrics. They're accurate to the show, but not in the way you think they are. This is a segue into stupid props used by bad performers. Some woman says she's "a little hoarse" as she holds up a stuffed horse. Thanks, Bazooka Jane. A few more jokes like that and I'll have enough points to buy some x-ray specs. Some guy holds a picture of a girl as he sings "Isn't She Lovely?" Some woman does that baton-juggling thing while she butchers "I'm Like a Bird." Also she can't juggle well, either. She's 0 for 2. Some guy magically pulls out a star as he's singing "If I Could Change the World." Simon calls it "corny." They argue about it. The guy says it's showmanship and it made David Copperfield rich. Yeah, but he's a douche. Also, this isn't Magician Idol, Simon points out.
The props all bring us to Scooter Girl, or, as the boards have dubbed her, "Cooter Girl," because she's the one whose panties we keep getting glimpses of. This is Nicole Tieri, and she has come to the auditions on her little Razor scooter with a pink bicycle basket. She's blonde and thin and projects such an aura of needy desperation that I'm afraid the television will leap off its stand and try to cling to me. Within seconds she's volunteering to us that she's a recovering anorexic. She tells us that she learned that she didn't need to do anything special to be loved, as we see her riding the scooter around, mugging for the camera, and doing tumbling runs across the waiting area (giving us three peeks at her undies). Yes, she's clearly gotten over those attention issues. I feel a little bad, because this is all a disaster just waiting to happen. She lacks Kimberly Caldwell's total obliviousness. I can't imagine what's going to happen when she's eventually rejected. Oh, and she lacks a bra.
Nicole rides her scooter into the audition. What is she going to sing? A song about her scooter. She's incredibly cheesy, but has a nice voice. And after she's done, she says she knows the whole scooter thing is just a gimmick, and offers to sing something normal. Actually, she offers to sing "Power of Love," which I wouldn't call normal, but that's my problem. She's a good singer, but I don't find her that inspiring. That's par for the episode, though. Randy says she should be on Broadway, and doesn't think this show is right for her. Paula likes her, because she likes almost everything. So Simon is the tiebreaker. He likes Nicole, because she has a sense of humor and everything about the show has been so serious. Wait, let me check something. No, this isn't The MacNeil-Lehrer News Hour. What the hell is he talking about? Is anything about this show serious? Other than the serious dough the people behind it are making? He also declares that the "charts" right now are "humorless." What the hell? I'm trying to recall the charts at around the time this stuff was filmed, and I find that unlikely. Unless by "humorless" Simon means "lacking performers I want to sleep with." Oh, right, that's what this all is. Simon thinks Nicole's hot. Anyway, she's invited to Hollywood over Randy's protests. But Simon tells Nicole the scooter's got to go.
And this is how we spend our extended time. Ryan and Nicole go out to the street to give the stupid scooter away. After five minutes of nonsense, they convince some guy to take it. I don't care. Nobody cares. Why is the camera still rolling? This isn't interesting. In the end, it turns out they invited twenty-nine folks from New York to Hollywood for the round. Of whom we saw six. Great time management there, folks.
: Atlanta! And Miss Alli! And Hot Guy! I think Miss Alli doesn't like him already, so he'll be around a long, long time.