Tuesday
Country night with Kenny Rogers, who has been replaced by your high school drama teacher and had his colors done. The assumption is that Kellie and Bucky will do the best of everyone tonight, because they are from the swamp, but in fact Kellie and Bucky are the best of the night, because they...do the best job. Neither of whom I care to look at, ever, with my eyeballs.
Taylor starts us off with some "Take Me Home Country Roads" while giving the impression that he's going home to die. It is pronounced variously "just okay," lifeless, "safe, boring and lazy," and then likened to Simon's sex life. Perhaps, but with less getting peed on. Kenny Boondocks Mandisa for being "articulate," and it's...all uphill from there, basically. Except not, because it's boring and even Rachel Bilson can't be arsed to cheer. Simon accuses the bescruffed Ryan of trying to look like someone from Desperate Housewives, but I think He-Man is a better reference, because only Beast-Man ever tried to fuck Skeletor. Kenny tells Elliott to "sing it simply," thereby circumventing his entire niche, and he...does, and is boringly lovely-sounding, and looking closer and closer to acceptable week by week. The judges love it and Simon calls Paula a vapid fool, but she doesn't get it. He admits to being more nervous each week, just like Ace. Paris is dressed like Tom Cruise in Legend and sings "How Do I Live Without You" with exactly the same heart-stopping originality that you'd expect with that song, but with some Paris sugar on top. Randy and Paula aren't entirely sold, but Simon thinks it was awesome, because he's actually heard the song before.
Ace, fresh from Kenny's offer to put him up in a real nice apartment in Westwood, shivers through "I Wanna Cry" by Keith Urban, a song apparently so boring it doesn't matter which nostril you sing it through. Ryan asks Kellie to sign an affidavit that she's actually retarded, and she does, but then rocks the fuck out of "Fancy," like I wanted! Chris's total lack of qualities bores its way through "I'm Gonna Love You" (also Keith Urban), but at least he didn't uncover the Five Doors Down version, so I shouldn't be a hater. Simon tells him we "at home" deserve better than the boring songs they've all done the last two weeks. Katharine vamps it out with "Bringing Out The Elvis in Me," a not-very-country Faith Hill song, and it's great but there's not much to say. Kenny tells Bucky not to mumble, Bucky replies in some fashion, and then he non-mumbles his way through "The Best I Ever Had," by somebody or another, and is so fantastic I think that I actually might like a country song or two, just like with "Wave By Wave" a while back? Bucky is ruining my entire self-image. I just wish I could look at him directly.
Wednesday
What's Left Of Kenny Rogers tells the kids that country music "tells you a story," and leaves you with "an emotion of some sort." Kellie: a story of prostitution, a feeling of being stunned! Chris: a story of crying, a feeling of being stalked! Ace: a story of wanting to cry, a feeling of wanting to cry! Paris: a story of a Ren Faire waitress, a feeling of being bored! Katharine: a story of the Elvis within, a feeling of wanting to go on a date with Katharine! Mandisa: a story of hubris, a feeling of horizontal stripes! Elliott: a story of a Queer-Eyed leprechaun, a feeling of tomorrow never arriving! Taylor: a story of a tuberculosis victim, a feeling of pity!
What's Left Of Kenny Rogers sings one of those bullshit country songs with the clever wordplay, all, "I can't unthink about you, I can't not unremember the unthinking rememories of whatever." The pimpomercial involves Taylor obnoxiously destroying Kellie's ghetto car with the help of the Idols, and then Mandisa using electric Jesus to create a Ford Fusion from the pieces, and Ryan cracks that Kellie's so stupid, she probably thinks that's how cars are made.
Ryan splits the Top 9 into three groups, one of which is the bottom three. These are the groups: The Fakes (Chris, Taylor and Kellie), The Surprises (Mandisa, Paris and Elliott), and The Huh? (Kat, Bucky...and Ace). The Fakes immediately get sent back, of course, but it gets weird, because Kat and Bucky were awesome, while Ace is...Ace; but on the other hand, the Surprises have never been in the bottom three in any configuration.
Back from commercial, The Huh? are sent back, leaving Mandisa, Elliott, and Paris. That is so weird. I know all three of them sucked, but they...have fan bases, no? Elliott's fine, and it would be funny if Mandisa went home, because everybody loves/loved her. Mandisa looks calm and cool, Elliott's jumpy, Paris is keeping it together -- all as usual. Then Ryan sends Paris to sit down so fast you might blink and miss it. Simon says that Mandisa and Elliott were screwed by song choice, but at least Elliott's song, "If Tomorrow Never Comes," is recognizable. Always important. Ryan wishes them luck, then dismisses Mandisa. She rocks her sing-out, which is always nice -- really the featured player is Bucky, who keeps singing along and then clamming up when the cameras find him -- but brings an unnerving amount of Jesus into things at the last second. Later!
Tuesday
Ryan's back in the Brightside black-and-whites, with some aggressive scrubble on his little chin. You know, I love Ryan, but it's hard to think of him as a boy or attractive in the conventional sense -- but darn, he looks nice this week. A lot of people seem to find it laughable, but like, the dude's pushing 60, I think, so it's nice for him took like something other than a mid-'50s cleaning product mascot. I mean, he still looks like everybody's mom's favorite costume fallback, Halloween Hobo, but at least it's the kind that looks fantastic, and I'm happy for him. Keep the beard! (Heh.) Ryan tells us that we're live, and that the week's theme is country. Which is exciting in that I am really freaked out by the awesomeness of Bucky Covington, and this week will probably prove to be no exception. And who better, Ryan wonders, to usher in tonight's irritating festivities, than one Mr. Kenny Rogers? He then goes on at length about Kenny Rogers, but the person we'll see tonight is...not Kenny Rogers. I don't know whose palm got greased for this shit, but whoever they're trying to pass off as Kenny Rogers, I'm not impressed. Or maybe I'm just confused about who Kenny Rogers is? Because I thought he looked like a truck driver, whereas the person we see tonight looks like he owns an antiques 'n' sundries store somewhere in the Valley. He looks like my grandma, but with a goatee. Mystic Tan. Something kind of overripe and Eric Roberts-y about the face. That burnt-looking chemical-peel skin, with the baby eyes blinking...he looks nice, for a type, and he's got the lovely white hair, but if you told me this was Merv Griffin I wouldn't be surprised. And considering he seems to spend the entire two days trying to bed Ace Young, it would be a tight fit.
It's all very Hollywood, Kenny's look these days, and we get a short shot of him singing the gambling song with the kids -- Bucky playing guitar and on the edge of exploding with glee -- before we're in the thick of things. We cut to Kenny's clips with, and about, Taylor. Whom Kenny seems to think sucks. Basically, Kenny says, if he can "make the song his" and "make it feel important," he'll be okay. But that's not what Taylor does. It's hard to take anything seriously, hard to feel "important" about a song, when the person singing it is twitching and wriggling -- or, as this week, singing it from the fetal position.
Because Taylor, folks, he is not well. I don't know for sure what's going on here, or what the prevailing issues are, but as with Bucky, I really do enjoy his voice if I keep my eyes shut tight, and this week...no. He's singing "Take Me Home, Country Roads," which is a song I don't mind. There's a whole Ricky Skaggs/Eddie Rabbitt/Crystal Gayle/John Denver axis of country I genuinely like, but I've always felt quite warmly toward John Denver because all through high school and college I spread rumors that my mother was a Denver groupie. When I finally told her the story -- "From 1974 to 1977, my mother was on a Rocky Mountain High she'd never forget" -- she laughed so hard chalupa came out her nose. My favorite is "Annie's Song," because I am almost too gay to function. Somebody cool needs to cover that song STAT. There's a fiddle shouldering a lot of the heavier work, because it's country, and Taylor's doing this thing I call The Mary J. Blige Explains It All For You, which is a singing move where you constantly wave your hand around, palm up, like you're showing people the housewares on offer at a Tupperware party. "Voila!" He's so, so tired, and it's like he's explaining this complicated concept about the "country roads," but the situation is direly, deceptively simple: he's on his deathbed, he sounds shitty, and his heart is not in it. It looks like someone pretending to sing while having the Avian Flu. I hope he's okay. I didn't want him to drop dead, I just wanted him to stop twitching. Apparently he did that last week -- when my TV was being hoisted by every boy I know above the crowd like in Crocodile Dundee while I downed truffles and bellinis with a very self-satisfied smirk and a parasol for the harsh winter sun -- and I missed it. The fiddler looks like the Pied Piper, with crimped lady hair.
Afterwards, he claps for himself, in the seal-like way of Paula, but does it because he's about to fall over from illness, and not from being drunk as fuck. Randy says it was a "good song for" Taylor -- with which I am in total agreement, I think it was a genius choice -- but involved a "just okay" vocal. Which is also true, and also sad, because I really could've gotten into Taylor this week. Randy says some boilerplate for the first of nine times, about how country music is mistakenly thought of as "easier," which -- yes, they are not complicated melodies, generally (unless they're the Bucky kind of country songs, which is why I love the songs he picks), but there are expected stylistic choices that are pretty demanding a lot of the time. So, on a very very shallow level, country is the easy choice, but that's only because the lyrics are generally mildly to extremely retarded, and not because you have to sing the hell out of them. And honestly, on that topic, one kind of implies the other. You don't have to be a good singer to sing -- what's complicated, lyrically? Those fucking awful Canadians -- Bare Naked Ladies songs, you just have to keep up. But a song that amounts to "naming things one might see in the country," you have to bring it. Randy has inspired a lot of talking just now, and I'm sorry about that.
Paula basically agrees with me that for a person usually "so full of life and electrifying," he certainly was pitiable this week, but thinks that the song choice didn't "allow [Taylor] to shine." I'd like a happy medium between "death's door" and "psychotic break" week. Simon calls it -- to the boos of the truly overinvested and unengaged in the audience -- that it was "safe, boring, lazy" and sounded like Taylor chose it "ten seconds ago" and didn't rehearse. I'd agree, except that I was actually looking at Taylor, who is the color of light green Fiestaware right now. Simon says it "did nothing for" him, and he can't really disagree. Ryan calls Simon's love life "safe, boring, lazy," which...the rule in my house is that you don't discuss those people who are not active participants, because it gets awkward. However, I will say that once he tosses it to commercial, the camera catches Simon looking up at him with a fairly sexy grin that seems almost this close to saying, "I'll show you lazy."
Back from commercial, it's confusing like it gets sometimes when we're live, somebody yelling "I love you, Ryan!" in the audience, and Randy saying it was Paula, and Paula protesting that it wasn't, and Ryan running around like a Chihuahua, and a strange man conveniently near the main Ryan aisle down front saying he loves Ryan, and finally Ryan's like, "We're live, people," and accuses not only Paula, not only the judges, but I think the whole audience of being drunk fuckers.
Kenny says Mandisa's song has more words than any song he's ever recorded. I hope none of them is "lifestyle," or we'll never hear the end of it. Kenny then...and you can feel it coming, and your whole body shrivels in on itself...praises her for being "articulate." Oh, Kenny Rogers. Mandisa -- to me, at least -- looks better than she has in a while, horizontal macramé stripes and all, and her hair is...oh, who cares. She's going home. The song? I think it's called "Any Man Of Mine" or something. If you know it, you recognized it. Bucky knows it. There's a time change halfway through that does not do great things for her voice, which is suffering again this week. She's very nasal. This might be her weakest week. Is this Shania Twain? Normally this one part of my back hurts only when I'm hearing Shania, even if I don't know it's her. Afterwards, Rachel Bilson claps, but doesn't stand, because she's too bored. Dude, I love that girl.
Randy calls it a "weird song choice" and says that the beginning "wasn't that hot" because the lower range was skidding out the whole time, and she "wasn't connecting." He praises...get this...the "last four bars," though, because she "got it together" and "showed some personality." Which is so, so stupid, but not as stupid as Paula -- the queen of only remembering the last note of any song, ever -- giving him shit about it. "The last five seconds?" I'm like, "Wait five more seconds and see if she remembers who Mandisa is." Goldfish only have fifteen-second memories, Leonora Shapiro told me, so if you drop them on the floor and it takes twenty seconds for them to die, they'd think that's all existence was. Deep, right? So when Paula's drunk, everybody is drunk, because the world is made of drunk: "You could sing the phone book, the encyclopedia. The song...I don't know...but your voice is there." Lie, lie, lie. She could not sing the phone book if she sang it that crappy. Simon tells Mandisa it was "horrible" and the stupid Pavlov "BOO" sign goes off, and there's some bullshit pre-written banter about how Simon feels bad because he always gets booed when he's "being constructive," and again -- that's not constructive. "Horrible" is not constructive any more than "if you don't like singing, stop singing" or whatever carpet-shitting nonsense he says sometimes. Actually constructive stuff earns him the same response, because these people are stupid, though, so I guess I can understand the confusion. Paula says it's because he's "boo-able," and Simon says he didn't like the song, and calls out the huge section of country music that is worthless and "fun" and "cutesy" and doesn't do your voice any favors because it's not about your voice, it's about weird sounds and a clashing chorus and drunk secretaries drinking themselves slutty on margarita night.
Ryan gets very fussy with him about "But did you like the singing?" Which is valid, because he at no point said anything about the singing, and Simon gets fussy right back, and Ryan tells him to get a dictionary and look up "constructive," and then out of nowhere -- and I do think all of this was scripted, because Ryan's response was very much like a person misreading off a cue card -- Simon says that Ryan, "with respect," is trying to "look like someone out of Desperate Housewives" -- and there's a cut to Ryan narrowing his eyes, and I take a moment to reevaluate if I still think Paul Young is a sleeper hottie, and whether I'm prepared to deal with that yet -- and then Simon goes in for the kill. "Lose the beard." And I mean, it's Simon. He's not fucking around. He knew. Because whether or not Ryan is gay, the facts are that if his possible gayness get any kind of sizable press in a given week, the week will uncover "shocking new candid photos" of him kissing some gross girl. Those are the clockwork facts. And this time around, Ryan was pictured kissing What's Left Of Teri Hatcher, and all that implies, and "beard" is a word with lots of meanings. So if you're going to make the joke anyway, and Ryan's face provides the plausible deniability, this is the week. And I love it. And Ryan, a little bit too hyper to deliver any kind of response well, snorts out, "No, Simon, but you definitely fit the bill in your baby blue powder tight sweatsuit sweater cashmere garb you've got." Which I think probably looked concise on the cue card until he fucked it up, but is still stupid, because he keeps going to the v-neck well every week and it's dried up long ago, but also: is he saying Simon is a lady? Because it's Paul Young that wears the cute v-necks, and you can quote me on that. Also turtlenecks. I think, in all fairness, that what's going on here is that Mandisa spreads homophobia everywhere she goes and nobody is safe because her mere presence causes boys of questionable sexuality to turn on each other like over-moisturized werewolves. "Where's the love?" she giggles, surveying the destruction she has wrought. Ryan once more accuses the judges of being drunk and Paula -- hilariously -- cuts accusatory and not-fake eyes at Simon. He's a mirror for us all, my dear.
Kenny tells us that Elliott has a tendency to over-sing, which is sort of true, but also what makes him awesome, which means it's not "over-singing" so much as...singing with a particular balls-out, shameless style, which I love, and which Kenny is not buying, because his palate is so refined. "If the lyric's important, sing it simply," he advises, as part of his ongoing deal where country is still a narrative tradition like the ballads of yore, even though that hasn't been true since Garth and Strait and the rest popified the entire genre into country-western, but I don't want to talk about that, because the High Fidelity police are already up my ass about sixteen ways I'm so wrong about everything, and this is not the week for me to have opinions about anything, because it's country week, and I'm with Simon: fuck it, I can't tell if you're good, because I just want you to stop. (Except, and this is a subject, clearly, of never-ending fascination for me, one Mr. Bucky Covington, who could sing the collected works of fucking -- who is really really awful? Toby -- Toby Keith to me and I'd roll over for a belly rub and fall asleep.) Kenny tells him that the whole showmanship/beautiful voice/smooth delivery thing is crap, that it's his "comfort zone," and warns him darkly: "You're not trying to impress them, you're trying to make them cry." Which I love, but in Elliott's case is bullshit, but I'm not punking out Kenny Rogers because he told them one of the most astute things I've ever heard, this week, which I'll get to a bit later.
So Elliott sings "If Tomorrow Never Comes," by my boy Garth Brooks, and...sucks in exactly the same way Kenny Rogers told him to. Ouch. Well, there's some non-Kenny related carnage (bumpy thumpy notes, weird sharpnesses, strange faces), but mostly he's trying to sing it straight and fails in the boring way of which he's shown such a weakness. He Carol Burnetts at the audience, adorably, and I have to say that the Queer Eye treatment he's gotten this week is really powerful. He has a glow, and his hair is over-gelled but piece-y in a cute way, and he's rocking a pretty serious goatee that's very nice and I hope he keeps it. He still looks kind of trollish, but has crossed over into cute territory. Right up razor-close on the line -- I'm not crazy suddenly -- but definitely no longer on the far side of it. That's wonderful. Of course, he has some cultish Chris Daughtry eyes a lot of the time, which is weird in such a pre-apocalyptic death-wish song, but he's wearing super-cute shoes. I think the word for me this week, with him, is "amateurish." Which is so fucking weird, because he's the only one that isn't like that. The lovely tone is there, the strong voice, but he's using it in such a weird way that it's like he's learning to sing before your eyes. I do blame Kenny Rogers.
Elliott's adorable mother -- and now we know which side of the family provided the leprechaun blood -- claps and Randy goes nuts. "I love this song!" He calls it a great choice and then admits he was the producer on some version -- Barry Manilow's, I believe -- which causes fucking Paula Abdul to fake a snore and act retarded. It's not name-dropping if it's true and it applies, it's a valid fucking comment. She's really a "letter of the joke over the spirit of the joke" kind of girl. That's the sign -- I'm a huge apologist for her behavior a lot of times, because I love her, but Jesus -- of being a fucking moron. "It was HOT!" Randy finishes up, with the cherry on top of a sundae of falsehoods. Paula goes on and on for twenty minutes about nothing, Elliott's a breath of fresh air to the business because he's humble and understated and he knows he's great but he's cool about it, all of which is true and admirable and lovable but has nothing to do with the task at hand, and then she says that above all, he has "careless, reckless abandon."
Simon says the same applies to her, and maybe nobody in California gets that joke, which is actually way meaner than any of the Ryan/Simon sniping, because they just move along (Paula: "I know, right?") and Simon calls out Elliott again on his chief (and growing) issue, which is his insane nervousness and pants-shitting fear every week. Elliott admits it's a problem and can't even really explain why he's getting more and more scared as the stakes rise. Aww. That's so rough. Simon tells him that his appeal is largely based in his confidence and complete skill and bravery with his instrument, and without the gorgeous voice nobody would care about him one way or the other, so he needs to get it together. I agree, and also think that Kenny should be kept away from Elliott. And Ace. Ryan asks him why he's getting so freaked out these days, and Elliott can't really frame a coherent answer: "All the cameras? And the judges? And it's a lot of pressure...I guess I should...be used to it?" He giggles, and I just want to...I don't know. Make everybody in the audience fall asleep for six minutes like a fairy tale, hug the guy, tell him to cowboy up because we're live, and then make sure his breathing and heart rate are under control before I turn the lights back on. You know? He doesn't need this crap. He needs to be celebrated.
Paris is dressed like The Highwayman. She and Ryan discuss her hairstyle, because it's Ryan, and she hits a glancing blow against how she's somehow "inspired by the songs," or something, before she tries to launch into that same "I express myself through fashion" diatribe about her thousands of alter egos and personalities that she keeps trying to give every week, because the time she completed it was the last week she was relevant. The Kenny segment is really cool, because she's so skilled that he doesn't even get nebulous with her, that we see -- just launches into technical stuff about specific lyrics and phrasing and points in the song. I'd like to see more of that. Also the pianist is smokin' hot for this segment with Kenny. I love how good Paris is at singing. I wish I could remember her without having to look at a list. She's like the Nikko. "Eight, I got eight. Who's left? How many girls?" Okay, that's a lie. I can't remember more than three of them without a list.
She sings "How Do I Live Without You," but thanks to wardrobe, it's like if Tom Cruise were singing to you from inside the film Legend. Which: weird, but she really does just have the best voice, even tiny pitch issues and stuff, it's just obvious how powerful it is. One day soon she'll go through her Xtina phase and then develop a cool personality to go with that voice, perhaps. Handlers are good and bad at once. Hopefully she'll have the grace to go through the dirty ugly part of her transformation out of the public eye, maybe in India like Alanis Morissette.
Her last big giant note is weird, and she pronounces the word "live" strangely, but it's good. I liked this performance. I don't know. It's not amazing, but the song is so played out I don't know how you could knock my socks off. Maybe if Mandisa had done it, instead. They should have switched songs! They would have rocked each other's songs! That's what went wrong this week. Among...oh, everything. Right.
Her incredible family bounces around. Randy is wearing a crazy red vest, I need to tell you that. He looks like a community theater company member for A Christmas Carol, or The Nutcracker. He tells her that "great melodies are hard to sing," and refers one of many times tonight to "the front part" of the song, which was rough. Which I admit it was. He calls "just fine," and Paula...calls attention to Paris's "powerhouse voice," and says she didn't connect with the song -- it was "kind of a struggle," and there was "no joy." She tells Paris to resume owning the stage week like she usually does. I agree with all of that -- I liked the performance, but it wasn't a Paris performance, just better than most everybody else. Is that the harshest Paula's ever been? From the studio reaction, which is intense booing, I believe an AI first, I guess so. Paris and Paula laugh together about the screeching.
Simon disagrees, and gets huge cheers, because this is no different from wrestling, and it's like the annoyance of a laugh track, but expanded to the whole rainbow of emotions, and it's insulting. "Laugh here! Gay joke here! Laugh! Cry! Boo! Yay!" I remember my nanny watching some stupid shit, Family Matters or Family Ties or something, laughing uproariously with the laugh track and admitting openly that she had no idea what the joke was, but that the compulsion was too strong, and she could always get clarification on what the hilarity was actually about later, and it scared the hell out of me. Like, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night child terror. "Who's driving this bus?" And that's how I feel about the AI studio audience a lot of the time. Anyhow. Simon disagrees and there's cheering, and Paula drunkenly sticks her finger in his face, then flops around weirdly. He says it was an excellent song choice, and the performance reminded him of Dionne Warwick. And then asks for applause for the comparison, but none of them know who that is, because they're either tweens or people with very, very short attention spans.
Ryan calls attention to the topsy-turvy world of the show tonight, how Randy's "dressed as Cupid," and Paula got booed, and "Simon shows his jealousy..." That last, neither Simon nor I understands -- does Simon want to be Dionne Warwick? Is that the joke? That's idiotic. He wants to be Whitney Houston, and just sit in a nice tiled room all day smoking crack and masturbating. And not for nothing, but answer me honestly: who doesn't? Come on. I've never tried crack, although I hear it's just great, and if your money never runs out, I think "locked in a room with crack and porn for the rest of your life" sounds fabulous, if not very productive. Anyway, off the "jealousy" comment, Paula leans over to explain to Simon -- who literally is like "What?" -- and I'm sure whatever garbled sense she's made of that stupid jab will be so much more fucking awesome than whatever snippy, stupid thing Ryan meant. I wish we could hear it.
Okay. It has been alleged that Kenny Rogers wants to marry Ace Young and make him his little lady. Not in a nice Brokeback Mountain kind of way, necessarily, but more in a Merv Griffin kind of way, like, "Never did the white knight say to me, 'Come on, baby, I'll put you up in a great condo'" kind of way. I cannot reveal who has alleged these things, and I can neither confirm nor deny that it was, in fact, me. What I can do is say that Kenny's intro to Ace's song goes like this: "A great singer knows how to squeeze the note and bring passion out of it." And that Ace is one of these great singers. Not true. He also says that Ace is "the best combination of music and singer of the whole bunch," which means nothing and yet is still untrue. What he is, is fine -- although that shit is getting old, Anna was like, "I never thought I would be tired of his face, but I am...so tired. I'm retired." (Anna is like me with the random Pretty Woman quotes for every situation, only with Almost Famous.)
So but don't we all kind of want to put Ace up in a great condo, and all that implies? (Anna also liberally quotes Rhinestone Cowboy, and Rosemary's Baby, but only the former applies this week.) Ace sings a Keith Urban song about crying. I am not ashamed to admit that I've never even heard of this person, even though something like 20 out of nine Idols sings his songs this week. I could just kick myself for not being up on the current country scene! I can tell you, though, that he's sitting on a stool, wearing all black, and that should tell you all you need to know. He's not incredibly nasal...oh wait, there it is. Man. Here are some Ace notes: "He is kind of like Fievel in his late teens in many ways, which explains the whole 'Father Figure' thing not being creepy." Also: "Finding out that Ace's demos are all Timberlake-style R&B Road To Stardom things makes him okay for me." And I do mean that. Knowing he's that kind of thing, and not this kind of thing, really makes me root for him. That's like an entire universe over from the bullshit skill set of this show. While he sings, the judges all stare at each other and chat with each other, because it's boring, and then at the end he does a whole Bedingfield-inspired (see?) pretty mess of whining and nose-moaning. In the audience there are women with hips cheering sullenly, and behind them and their insolent swaying, there is what looks like a housepainting drip-pan crudely decorated with a "Marry Me, Ace!"
Randy says that...at least there was falsetto. I'm serious, that's what he says. Paula disagrees, and they get into a fight about the degree to which Ace was stultifying this week. It's brutal and awesome. She drunkenly argues something about how falsetto is "Ace's signature" and that it was a "contemporary take" on what I'm guessing is a fairly recent song, and we get a shot of his disgusting Jared Leto brother in the crowd, and Simon says that after the last few weeks Ace has finally picked the right song. Ryan tells us that Ace is "officially" single -- um, aren't we all? -- just in case we had stopped thinking he was in love with us anytime recently, and Ace stares stupidly into the camera with a cheesy smile and the look of one who has been beaten on the streets every day of his young life.
Kellie says some shit to Ryan in a spot-on Anna Nicole, like she's daring him to still get pissed at her for being an idiot, and Ryan asks her to "clear this up": some naysayers are saying that nobody this stupid could possibly live past their first experience with automobiles driving by, or the ever-present danger of hot stoves and common household chemicals, or having to remember to inhale and exhale every few seconds, and that her "naïveté is a bit of an act." He asks her to bottom-line, for him, exactly how fucking stupid she actually is. This makes me weep. I don't mind her, I like her singing and I think she's an okay girl, and what they are doing is...everybody likes I Dream Of Jeannie as long as they can forget what's actually going on, and this continual pushing the short-bus button w/r/t Kellie is really...I don't know on whose account I am incensed, but I know I'm insulted and not just on my own behalf. She repeats that she has no idea what calamari is, and they redux that whole bag of bullshit, the whole fucking act repeated for you to know that yes, she's just as -- and it would seem -- stupid and fake as we've agreed to believe, maybe more so. Ryan's like, "This busted, stupid creature is the real you?" And she...agrees. She says her friends would be willing to testify that she's a moron, and Ryan goes, "...Be proud of that." Because if there's one thing he -- and Kellie Ripa, and Eva Longoria, and every other blonde woman in entertainment stretching back fifty years, with the notable exception of Heather Locklear -- knows, it's that you can get a lot farther pretending to be fifteen times stupider than you are. I'm not that hot, and I do it. It's the smartest thing.
So Kellie hugs Kenny and babbles at him and he thinks she's charming, whatever, after Ace he's pretty much shot his wad, so to speak, and then...SHE'S SINGING "FANCY"! FUCK YEAH! Kenny (hilariously) says that the song is "perfect for her," because it's what she's all about. You know about me and "Fancy," right? Because it forms the basis of like 30% of my personal philosophy. And is a kick-ass song besides. It was the Bobbie Gentry follow-up to "Ode To Billy Joe," later covered by my girl Reba, but I find that the Gentry connection puts the whole thing into perspective for me, personally: Whore it up, let them win...and if they don't give in, toss 'em off a bridge. Fuck it. I love that. So Kellie gets the Daughtry Treatment this week, sauntering out of the crowd with her mic, stalking toward the camera and up to the stage, wearing a cute Western boob shirt (one of very few) with a cool back. God, I love this song. So does Kellie. That rocks! The pimp lights go crazy, but honestly she doesn't need it. She looks pretty, if a little over-moisturized and shiny, and her eyebrows are hysterically angry and jumpy and forceful and kind of aggressive and a little cool, because she's not doing it on purpose, because nobody would. The last note is ragged and lovely, and it's the best performance so far, maybe of the whole night. It's for sure the best thing she's done. So weird! A homeless blonde woman wakes up in the audience and drunkenly, slowly, sleepily claps at the camera. Randy and Paula agree that she rocked and that it's her night, and Simon spares his agreement on the way to hating on the song, because he hates country, we do this every year, blah blah blah. She apologizes, and Ryan explains to her quietly that this was what Simon's approval looks like. He does the numbers and kicks it to commercial, and as we act out you can hear him again trying to explain that Simon just told her she rocked and it was clearly a compliment across the board. Lord, this girl.
So Whoopi and Chris Rock are in the audience. Interesting. Why is Chris there? Did he stop being relevant and I didn't notice? I love him. Anyway. ["He was seated to a kid; I choose to believe that his child forced him to come. I also choose to believe that we are going to get a good 15 minutes of material on this experience in his HBO special and that it is going to kill." -- Sars] Kenny says that Chris is tackling a song that's not easy to start with, and he comes from a whole different place completely, which I guess means somebody stupid covered this song, too. Fucking Chris. I never cared one way or the other, but this is like..."I can't take this test because of my overwhelming ADD. Why yes, I'm twenty-two and in college, why do you ask?" Stop pussying around and just do it straight, please. Chris tells Kenny that his whole family is into country, so Chris is rebelling because he hates it. To Kenny Rogers, or whoever this is, he says this. Nevertheless, Kenny says that Chris's "heart" is in the right place, and that he's going to "make something happen" with it. I don't think it's Chris's "heart" that...never mind, played, sorry.
Chris sings some other Keith Urban song, and actually manages to do this in a country-friendly voice, so I guess his mimicry is not as limited as we thought. Actually, he does it really well -- and not just because the arrangement and the overtime the band surely has put in on this one is so fucking good. Way to go, the band. I don't know what the song is supposed to sound like, but I think the band is doing a great job here. There's a sucky, sucky note heading into the bridge...and then just like that, I'm bored, because the shiny stuff is over and now it's just singing, and Chris...seems nice. Nice guy, but he has no personality. Whatsoever. You look in his eyes and it's like that one store at the end of the strip mall that goes Yogurt, Yoga, eBay Store, like clockwork every six months. Baseball Card Store. Jamba Juice. He's like Febreze for the fabric of your heart and your mind. But yes, he's done an excellent job. Randy says it was "really great," Paula praises his "versatility" and simultaneous ability to "stay[ing] true to who [he is]," and she laughs, because "what a concept," like it's so counterintuitive and yet true. And then we laugh at Paula, because...she's just wrong. You can't do both. Logic and sense don't do yoga at your command, because that store went belly-up six months ago. You can't do what she just said you can do, and the point of Chris is that he couldn't do that even if it were possible.
Simon says it's "great to see a new side" of Chris, and I'm so on board with this. Not every song needs to go through the fucking Five Doors Down filter, no matter how good you are at it. My chief disappointment with Chris, week in and out, is that he's so committed to what he thinks "singing" is that he still hasn't figured out that he can fucking sing. It's like Scott Savol last year: he's got this foundation and builds such trashy castles on top, but if he'd strip down, he could do anything. And Scott was really good at the mimicry, and never even thought to develop his natural talent. Wow. Chris Daughtry is the Scott Savol this year. Am I weird? But it's even worse, because I can't say for sure that Scott actually had natural talent underneath his savant abilities, and I know that Chris does. Paula interrupts Simon and says that he's lying, and was talking shit all through the song. Shut her the fuck up, please? Now is not the time. How are you serving the show, or Chris, or Simon, or us, the audience, with crap like that? You're just being an asshole now. Simon then delivers the ultimate WORD: "Having said that," he calls the whole group out, "[you guys] have been picking boring, uninteresting songs [for weeks], and the audience at home deserves better." Thank you, Simon Cowell.
Katharine calls her song "the perfect choice," and tells Kenny that she loves country, but it's not really what she does, so she's chosen something with more "blues." They practice, and she sounds pretty good. Kenny dubs it "not country country -- it's more sultry." I'm guessing this means Faith Hill. And you know I have no beef with Faith Hill. She's so pop-over-C&W that she makes Shania look like a backwoods hillbilly. So I'm thinking the math here goes I Love Katharine + Faith Hill Is Okay + Sultry And/Or Bluesy + Cute Dancin' = Miss Alli Is Going To Knee Me In The Face At Dinner. And...yes. Ouch. Kat sings "Bringing Out The Elvis in Me," with a sexy little dance, and she sings her ass off, with some of those fake JonBenet smiles she's so good at, into the camera, but those drop off once she gets into the song. I wonder if this song, on paper, takes as much range as she's using? Because the girl is showing off, as usual. Her hair is very bouncy. She makes me into a child and I don't know why, because I know her game and I have her number, but still: hair pretty. Fronts very bouncy as well. Not to be crude, because you know that's not a deal-maker for me personally. Although I do love to use the term "fronts," because any boy that didn't read Are You There God didn't come to the war of junior high properly armed. Overall the effect is...aesthetic, and I do love to watch her perform. We would get along great, is how she makes me feel, and that makes me like her, a lot. Because I don't see a lot of real people on TV that I think I would actually enjoy a conversation with, because I don't get why you would want to be on TV.
Randy says, "Bluesy/country, yeah?" He says over and over that it was very nice, and a good job, dawg, and Paula agrees, saying it's her niche (like Chris, and I admit that) and that she looks "sexy, hot and cool." All too true. Simon's like, "I don't know what to say anymore. That song was just so peculiar!" And Katharine...okay, to me, she was being very "we're so cute together and I'm on your level." To others, she was being an arrogant bitch. She giggles and says, "Simon, you just don't like country music! Just say it! It's okay!" And Simon nods, and Ryan tells her she nailed it, and Simon grins up at her, because they've been verging on making the joke all night, like they do every year, and they finally did it, because Bucky's up -- and last -- and Simon's not going to criticize Bucky's song choice, because to do so would be to criticize him for existing, so this is the only place that comment could go, in terms of throwing water on Simon's hateration this week, and it needed to be said. I don't know if she came up with it on her own, but I do know it fit the production perfectly, and I thought it was cute and totally in character: what are Drama girls for, if not to be precocious and think they're just too cute, and tell you the "real deal" from your knee, adoringly, with batting eyes? That's Ryan's whole shtick, and I think it's super-cute and not arrogant. But if you're not down with her whole vibe, which is six-inches-from-secret-cutting insecurity crossed with I've-only-loved-gay-boys-in-my-whole-life awkwardness crossed with being hotter than a June day in the Sahara, I believe in the hate, because that's a whole lot of bullshit to wave away so simply. If you're like me, and have spent your life surrounded by about 65% That Girl, though, she's really a shining example, way above the median in terms of being awesome, and I love her and want to have a drink with her. ["I don't like Katharine very much, but I had zero problem with that comment. Lord knows it needed making." -- Sars] Kicked to commercial -- Bucky's up, and last, on country night, and my slowly disintegrating sense of self is probably going to just roll over at that point -- Ryan starts yelling at Kat off screen about how (I think) he tells Simon the same exact thing every year. Which he does. Which is why she said it.
Bucky and Kenny have a conversation about something, and Kenny tells him to fucking stop mumbling or the song will make no sense, and I start wondering if I rate as good a condo as Ace, because: WORD. Oh, I wanted to say the neat thing that Kenny said. Basically, that we are all three people: the person we are, the person the audience thinks we are, and the person we're portraying. Forgive me if I'm oversimplifying, or misquoting, but I do tend to accumulate stuff I think is true without regard to author or date of publication, which is why I sucked at multiple choice in Sociology classes, but rocked the essays. So anyway he went on and said that, the more those three Venn circles overlap, the more successful you'll be. Which is...questionable advice to Bucky, but I'm not sure which of the Idols quoted him on this, so I just wanted to mention it. If this were The Apprentice, I'd give you some kind of self-important speech or quiz about applying that to your own life, but come on. You know what I'm saying and that's not the shtick here, but giant WORD, Kenny Rogers. I'm sorry I called you a post-op antiques purveyor, and I do think your lavender sweater is just lovely, but I appreciate your wisdom, I do.
And Bucky sings "The Best I Ever Had" by somebody or another, probably Keith Urban again, and there's a whole internet available if you want to make sure. And it's just what I've come to expect from Bucky: totally fucking awesome, with a complicated and lovely, yearning melody, and I love it. (With the obligatory eyeball caveat, so you don't think I've flipped. It's possible to love what somebody does without wanting to make out with them, just like it's possible to think somebody is cute without thinking they're good. Bucky is good, and good at singing.) I will say this: Josh Gracin didn't make we want to listen to country music: he made me want to make out with Josh Gracin. Whatever the hell Matt Rogers was doing, it didn't have anything to do with my musical choices in life. But Bucky makes me think maybe country music isn't so bad. And if you knew me, you'd realize that's like me saying that Jocelyn Wildenstein makes me think that plastic surgery might not be so sad. He also picks songs with melodies I really like, and I think would be fun to sing, like in the shower. And he has such a beautiful voice, country or not, even though he tricks it up so much with that stuff, I can't say I know what he would sound like otherwise. But it doesn't matter -- the country singers I really respect are the ones that only listen to music I like, and don't really like country, but still know where their gifts lie. I say all of this because I want you to understand that it might be mean, but it doesn't take away from his incredible talent when I say that if he sang behind a curtain, I would have a total crush on him. Which would be unspeakably awkward for us both, so thank God for TV. You don't have to give everything a five-by-five to prove that you love something. Nothing is perfect and you're on a fast train to fucking yourself up if you think that anything is. Better to be less lazy and more honest than start with the pedestal right off the bat. I think Kelly Clarkson is just the best little thing, but I don't want to make out with her, and complaining that I'd love her more if she were a guy would be...really fucked up. Same thing with Bucky: I think he's the best thing this show's got going, but I don't want to make out with him or look directly at him, and complaining about that is fun but has nothing to do with how great he is at singing. Which I can do both of, because it's not a thumbs-up/thumbs-down, ever. Or else this recap would be two pages long.
Randy says he "started off out of tune," which is true, but says he "got it together" and made a good (perfect, actually) song choice for himself. Paula tells him that he and Kellie rocked, but makes the mistake of thinking it's mostly or solely because they were in their element. "Wear that hat proud," she says, maybe trying to be funny, but it's telling that I didn't even notice. Simon admits again that he's "not an expert on this kind of music," but says it sounded "okay" to him. Which, if Bucky's getting the pimp spot this week, Simon's gotta downplay the love, especially after the Paris incident earlier tonight. So I guess I agree. Again, Ryan points out that Simon's here to judge the singing, not the songs, but I would say -- sure, but he's also not here to provide the final word. He's not the voice of authority, and he's fully admitting this week that he's biased, so I don't see the problem. If people are looking to Simon, or Kenny Rogers, or yours truly, to figure out what they should think about the performances they just saw, they have bigger problems than what they think about what happens on this stupid game show. You're allowed to disagree with Simon, Ryan. He keeps telling you.
So to review: Taylor crying his song from his deathbed; Mandisa screaming boringly and not at her best; Elliott singing a song I actually like, but boringly, with bugging-out eyes; Paris singing a song I'm not fond of, in a lovely manner, dressed as a knight's squire; Ace making no sense at all, as usual, which is what keeps him awesome for me personally, because he's just Kevin Covais and here for no reason whatsoever, which is great; Kellie...fucking rocking out, somehow, which is nice for her; Chris singing what will now be called "Daughtry's Lullaby For Jacob With Occasional Strobe"; Katharine singing all sexy and strutty and getting her Elvis all over everything; Bucky being maybe the best of the night. For like the third time this year. I'm so weirded out by that.
Wednesday
Ryan, back on the Brightside with a light blue shirt tonight, still has his scruff and looks like a million tax-free bucks. Kenny Rogers says that country "tells us a story and leaves us with an emotion of some sort," and we remember how Kellie was awesome and cross-eyed as ever, Bucky was fucking awesome as usual, Chris had a dead stare and huge poseur wrist cuffs fucking up everything, Ace was mushmouthed and whiny, Paris got Simon but not Paula and looked cute as heck, Kat was awesome and Simon was perplexed but agreed with her that he hates country. Simon criticized the song choices of everybody, but especially Mandisa, Elliott, and Taylor. Who would be my bottom three, based on performances alone. Ryan makes some weird crack about "it's a reality show, folks," just in case any of us still thought this was real. Kenny Rogers Botoxes out onto the stage and everybody claps, and Kenny natters at Simon to listen to more country. Simon admits, as all us country-haters do, that he likes Kenny, and Rogers relents. Kenny says he was "really impressed by the kids personally," and for the sake of grace we don't cut to Ace shivering. "You were great with them," says Ryan, and then Kenny Rogers sings his stupid "I Can't Unlove You" non-song of the sort that Joe R talked about last week, with the Celine Dion instruments and the gimmicky country wordplay.
The pimp-mercial is performed to that song "Just One Look," and after the last few weeks it falls so hard, hard, hard. Taylor twitchingly takes Kellie's beater into an auto shop, they all beat the shit out of it and dance very methed-up toward the camera while dressed like Beyond Thunderdome, and Kellie looks like Nicole Richie. They put the bits into a chamber and Mandisa electrocutes it, and out comes a Ford Focus or Fusion or whatever ass-looking car it is this year, and the performance is uninspiring but Katharine is adorable, and then afterwards Ryan cracks that "that's how Kellie thinks cars are really made." week's theme is the music of Queen, a.k.a. "Jacob's Musical Kryptonite," and thanks to your Joe and mine for shouldering that particular burden. There's a weird, weird montage of a Queen song playing while the kids pretend they're at a '60s freak-out, swinging their hair around in a druggie way and "rocking" "out." While it's creepy and nervousing, I do have to say that this little 45-second package is very wonderfully produced, all syncopated on the beat and exciting. I sure do hate the music of Queen, though. ["I wish Freddie Mercury were still alive for a bunch of different reasons, but not the least of them is the fact that I think he would make the most outstanding AI guest judge/advisor ever. What I would not give to hear that man's 'bitch, please' comments to Taylor." -- Sars]
Ryan splits them all into three groups, as slowly as possible. Still-ailing Taylor and Mandisa are the seed members of Groups 2 and 3, and then Elliott joins Mandisa -- they hold hands cutely -- and Paris joins them, and I think, "That's the safe group." Ace starts Group 1, and Kellie joins Taylor in 2, like you'd assume. She looks really cute, with a fun bouncy ponytail and no close-ups on her face. Chris joins Taylor and Kellie, which freaks me out, because Kellie was actually good this week. But that means Group 1 is Ace, Kat, and Bucky? That's weird. Bucky rocked. So then I surmise that the bottom three group is Paris, Mandisa, and Elliott. Which is insane. Ace and Kat I believe, but Bucky? Hell no. But neither can I believe Paris or Mandisa, even though Paris was good but boring and Mandisa was across-the-board awful. This is freaking my brain out. Ryan sends back Taylor, Kellie, and Chris, of course, and Paula...starts preemptively crying. Ace smiles, terrified, Kat shakes her head at the audience ("I don't actually know what the fuck is going on, no"), and Bucky looks close to sicking up. Elliott, Paris, and Mandisa giggle, either because they're safe or because, to the simple, the whole "after the break" thing, which isn't even a shtick anymore, because of how TV works, is still fucking funny or weird or something.
Ace split the judges, Kat was "bluesy, sexy and peculiar" -- they all laugh -- and Bucky was "in his element." Of ruling. Paula liked Mandisa, Simon thought she was horrible. Elliott was "fresh" but clearly "lacked confidence." Paris had a tough time, Ryan reminds us, and she smiles nicely. "Oh, okay," she murmurs. Bucky, Kat, and Ace are...SAFE! THAT IS SO NUTS! I know all three of them (Paris, Mandisa, Elliott) were somewhere between sucky and boring, but...none of them have been on the seal before, right? And they...do all have fan bases, no? The Narrowing goes on: Elliott is safe, I think. And Mandisa going home would be kind of funny, after all the "controversy" the last week or so.
Ryan confirms that none of them have been here before, and here's what's up: Mandisa looks calm and cool, Elliott's jumpy, Paris is keeping it together. So basically, status quo. Paris says she's had a good run, and wants to have more fun, and Ryan sends her back, safe. Simon tells Mandisa and Elliott that it's not about how good they really are, that they're always going to be tied to the song, every week. And that based on that, Elliott is the safe one. Ryan wishes them luck, and...sends Mandisa home.
Something fucked up happens, and the whole crowd goes silent, Taylor's mouth hangs open with his hands about to clap for her successes, and everybody goes weird and silent. My notes were very insistent about a weird vibe, and I heard later than multiple sources were saying somebody screamed out a racial epithet in that moment. Which -- I'm still on the fence about the "lifestyle" shit, because I think homophobia is its own punishment if you're an aspiring performer who is also a large black diva -- is totally fucking disgusting, if it's true, and going back, I think it is. That's like the worst thing I can think of, actually. Those hypothetical-but-probable people sicken me, and I hate reminders of how far we have still to go as much as you do, but I see no benefit in ignoring them. Fuck you, white trash bitches. Go home.
Paris almost cries as Ryan comforts Mandisa, covering admirably, and says they've loved having her with them, and she wants to "thank her fans so much," because their "support has meant the world to [her]," and then all I hear is "prayers, Jesus, down your throat, my religion is evangelical and doesn't care if that's offensive, Jesus loves you anyway, I'm so crass that I think you should be impressed about the Good News, and if you don't I get to sniff and feel sorry about how you're not saved and you don't have favor, pile of crap, Jesus, prayers, down your throat." Kat has a secret, devouring smile as Mandisa blesses up in the name of Jesus. Whatever. She has a journey, a Dogjaw, a Manilow, a Stevie Wonder, and then performs her boring song again, but if you're not Christian and don't feel the need to be educated about it, because trust me -- it's been covered -- it's hard to get that taste out of your mouth.