The most talent we've ever seen! Double the people of Hollywood Week! I hope that doesn't mean we gloss over the horrors of watching the slow breakdown of each and every brain. On the other hand, there's 100% more Steven Tyler pulling focus and upstaging, and then Randy Jackson pulling his version of that on top of that, so let's see what happens. There is nothing to compare with the thrill of Hollywood Week, regardless.
327 people with their hearts on their sleeves, all carrying guitar cases and living the dream. Who are they? We won't have met them. Some, we never will. Some, we shall rue. A man in a hat calls it heartwrenching; Picklerface breathing hard; some cute boy worrying at his worry like a little doggie.
Round One as usual: Sudden death, lines of ten, singing individually without feedback. Half of them cut immediately.
First lineup: Brett Loewenstern, with his crazy voice, looking nervous like he's going to stagedive onto his head, to the point where everybody cheers for him. Which is nice, because if you remember his life has been a neverending horror storm of social torture, because he is too special for Muggles and should be followed by an elite guard everywhere he goes so that nothing is ever bruised. He sings "Let It Be" with a good deal less tone than he had before, but compared to how much worrying is written all over his skinny self, he does well. Randy: "Aw, I love that kid."
Blonde girl Symphony (?) and Brett step forward -- J. Lo already crying -- and then they're the only two that go. He starts into a sort of YouTubish haters gonna hate/brain-slushy video about how he is a Victim No More, and then sheds his negativity and gets real grateful, real fast. That's my boy. Personally I'm just grateful they got him out of the way first thing, because I was sweating that shit. I presume however that it means they're saving Durbin for the end, because Idol never gives with both hands.
through: The formerly presumed-awful Rachel Zevita, who sings awesome and may have grown into it finally this year. Thia from Milwaukee, with her deep tone. Casey Wonderful Abrams lookin' like a sweater-wearing Teddy Ruxpin as usual, less one melodica.
lineup: Victoria Huggins, the insane gigglebot bon mot machine that freaked everybody's bean and apparently possesses neither an off button nor a finite number of teeth... And then, just she and two other people get kicked out! Wow, I was already preparing myself spiritually for her. There's a little bit of the madness in her rage for just a second, and then the smile pastes itself back on with a vicious violence, and she and her giant family bounce. Ryan makes fun of her eleven-bag luggage train, which is meet and good, and then I guess we'll see her year. Perhaps she will have turned into Ryan Starr by then. Or grown a couple McPhees.
Outta here: A French molester, a scarf, a robot... And then?
Durbin! And the deaf baby lady! Double shot of traaaagedy. Paris comes out and sings that Titanic song, a song I am sure has meaning for her personally because how people are. She does make some mistakes, tunewise, but the voice is there. James D comes up with all his many problems, and but his "Oh! Darling" is very dramatic and variably pretty and mostly he pulls out all the Lambert crap, and then immediately starts crying.
Also in his lineup are two young ladies that Steven wanted to fuck: The one that duetted with him for her baby parents, and the lipjob one named Stormi that J. Lo essentially called Bikini Girl. Stormi is still rye loaf, and Lauren rocks "Unchained Melody," her Gosselin-tressed mommy rocking back and forth to presumably Lauren's grandmother, who is younger than both of them, because the Alainas are a family of babushka dolls in reverse.
Durbin, Lauren and Paris -- the three that matter here -- step forward, and then they solely go through. What a coincidence that they're the three people we have actually been forced to care about. Stormi, laters. (What's in a name? Truuuuth.)
Bushy Chris Medina is undone by Randy's concern for his wheelchair-bound fiancée, and we revisit Steven kissing her that time, and so now I am undone. That whole Prior Walter thing is like one of the few emotional things I don't have a rational response for. He does not do a great job technically -- "You & I Both" -- but the voice is there. Chris and two other guys go through, and he's a mess so Ryan gives him some sweet words and then those motherfuckers at American Idol play "Fix You" as his triumph song. Which is such a nasty fucking Gokey move it makes me want to hate Chris Medina. But I shan't.
Nervous: A redhead, another, sexy Colonel Sanders, people covering their faces. Then a montage of people fucking up and talking about their nerves instead of mastering them. Finally Steven stands up and goes, "Sing your best song right now, because you are hurting our hearts. We get it, we sing too." Nice. Nice one, Steven.
Lineup includes several nervous girls, that cute little fat kid, Robbie Rosen with the weird nervous smile. Jacee sings "God Bless The Broken Road," like it was necessary/possible to adore him more; Robbie has intense control and deserves to be like Top Four based just on this song; Hollie from Kavanaugh with the secret problems sings a little nasally in her nasal but we'll see about her. They're all three the youngest people, so it's heartening to see them continue.
up, the American Psycho couple. He's still making those weird faces and smiling and acting bizarre, and she's jacked herself up to be even crazier looking, and they both do horrible and are only here because they are total freaks, and he is gay, and she's whatever is on the other side of gay, and it's interesting to watch. Short commercial break, them gripping each other's hands as a sort of metonymic gloss on their lives together, always at the edge of being torn apart by forces...
And then Nick is sent packing and his other half goes through. And of course he cries and begs to stay with his baby, and has the first real breakdown. Randy is fantastic with him -- and for the edification of everybody that's left -- and the whole time they're having this discussion she's walking slowly away from the stage, which is another symbol of what is happening and will always be happening with them. He even stands in the dark of the auditorium and sings some more at the Judgery and it's still awful, and then he's chasing her down the aisle, and it's cinematic as all get out.
Foyerwise, Nick asks if Ryan's heart is still capable of feeling sorry for them, and Ryan sends us a Valentine about what's important about their relationship is how deep and multileveled it is. Which does not answer the question, because "Are you soulless?" is not a question that deserves an answer. If you have to ask, you're not going to be satisfied by the response.
"That is a tough one, because of the general and then the specific. Do I think you're worthy of compassion? Surely. I am the Wonderwall, my mercy is everlasting. But what you're really asking is, Do I think you're a unique snowflake that we're all missing out on. And the answer to that question is: I think you're fourteen and you're an idiot."
That deep-voiced five-year-old that sings so low he sets off car alarms. I'm made nervous by Scotty in that A-Fed way of how he's 17 and it's not okay the way people on the internet are responding to him. He sings his same song, and it still sounds amazing, but I still don't know why he's here. J. Lo cracks a joke about how she's in love with a country singer even tough -- have you heard -- she is from the Block and Brooklyn is the birthplace of hip-hop. A mom-looking girl, then a dad-looking guy singing "Let's Get It On" with a falsetto I do remember but which I think J. Lo doesn't love as much this time... Scotty and the two people in the preceding sentence all go through.
I forgot those jerks all went to Hollywood. Whatever, last lineup. Tiffany Rios is that awful star-boobed Jersey Girl, and what she would like to do is be a bitch right out the gate about how she's better than everybody else that has been on the stage, setting off a gay in the audience in the most hilarious spit-take way: "I'm going to be honest [drink!], I'm tired [drink!] of seeing people try to do what I know [drink!] I can."
Singing some kind of bullshit dirge and bending over with the force of her voice and the passion and all of this shitty mess. And then Travis Orlando, who was the second of the Bretty people that I loved entirely, with my entire being, but his "This Love" is not great. J. Lo mentions that Tiffany is an incredible asshole and nobody will like her, but she still gets through to Group Night, whilst Bronx-bound Travis doesn't. Which sucks, because that kid is fucking amazing, as a performer and even moreso as a man, but I will tell you this:
Somebody is going to sandbag the shit out of Jersey Tiff on Group Night, pull a Mary Powers on her ass, and it's going to be glorious. Because every person in that auditorium heard the bitchy thing she said, and every person in that auditorium has a good reason -- if not a duty to Heroism, America & Stana Katic -- to take her the hell out.
Other Groupies from last night are Bad Glasses Karaoke Guy and Julie from last night, for a total of 168, including: Naima, those brothers that maybe do it, Molly DeWolf Swensen, Sexy Colonel Sanders, Emily Ann and Stefano from last night, and some emotional issues person I don't remember.
Wednesday: Somewhere between "Why is this night different from all other nights?" and "Of all nights in the year, this one must I tarry away from thee," between day and night, between madness and the sublime, lies the most important and delicious part of my job hands down. That's right, GROUP NIGHT! Holllller.