By Shack
Ryan "The Hook Up" Seacrest greets more shrieking fame whores to auditions in Houston as he reminds us in narration (and clips, of course) that we've already suffered through two nights of awful. In another amusing caption/narration deviation, Ryan merely tells us that "thousands" showed up at the Houston auditions, while the captioning fills us in that it was 7,000. I guess somebody in charge thought that wasn't a high enough number to brag about. Ryan wonders if they will find talent in Houston. No. Why should Houston be different from the last two rounds?
I'll bet the opening credits would be totally awesome in 3-D.
Ryan greets us pointlessly from some outdoor exhibits at Houston's space center, like he's suddenly the guest host for Trading Spaces looking for puns to throw at us before introducing tonight's couples. Will Kia's designs send them to the moon or will the homeowners go supernova? Uh, anyway. Sorry. Ryan reminds us that Kim Caldwell and Kelly Clarkson both came from Texas. At Kim's reference, I fully expected her to materialize suddenly to mug for the camera, à la Beetlejuice.
We get a brief countrified clip show (there's a bridge! And a rodeo! They ride wild bulls to work in Houston!) before tossing us to the stadium where the fame whores wait for the chance to torture us. Much to my surprise, they briefly rip away the pretensions that these kids all just walked in and sang for the judges by showing them all lined up at a bunch of tables, college-freshman-orientation-registration style, to briefly sing for groups of bored producers, so that they can weed out the good and the bad, and throw the rest away. Well, at least they weren't required to hold hands in a circle with some pre-fratties who had somehow already gotten drunk, like I did. Ryan narrates to us that "a storm of Biblical proportions" -- thanks for cruelly raising my hopes that all these people would be washed away -- descended onto Houston. It's not that horrifying a storm. Maybe there's a verse tucked away somewhere in the Old Testament where God punished a vexing (but not particularly evil) city with an afternoon thunderstorm that cancelled the day's harvest or something. They move the kids under cover as the haunted-house music tries to convince us that this storm is a big deal.
Finally, our judges -- Randy "(I Got That) Boom Boom" Jackson, Paula "Brave New Girl" Abdul, and Simon "Toxic" Cowell -- arrive. Ah, Paula's wearing that acid trip in fuchsia blouse we saw in the premiere. Randy psychs up the crowd waiting inside. Well, actually he talks to them, and they get psyched up because there are cameras there. Sweet, fame-providing cameras. Don't ever leave us, cameras! You're our parents now!
Our first performance artist this evening (there's no point in actually referring to anybody as a singer, because everybody's showing up just to make a scene), is some guy named Markeis McCray, whose first act before the judges is to spit something into his hand and stick it into his back pocket. This guy is stoned, or wants us to think he's stoned, or he's just an idiot. I think perhaps "idiot." Simon asks Markeis if he's excited. He says he's not, because his chances are one in four. The universe as a whole goes, "Huh?" Furthermore, he says that a one in four chance isn't very good. Yeah, he's an idiot. Simon asks Markeis if he would buy a $10 million lottery ticket if the odds were one in four. He says he wouldn't, because it's "not really [his] style." I take it back -- this guy's brilliant. I hope he gets his own one-man show. Simon asks Markeis why he's there if he doesn't think he can make it. He says he just wants to see what would happen. Simon says that he doesn't even want to listen to him, then, and Paula and Randy agree. This is the guy Paula got mad at in the clip show during the premiere. She's just upset that he's got a greater potential for incoherence than she has. Randy asks Markeis why he's even auditioning. He says he wants it to "open doors." He wants to take his title and go "somewhere else" with it. The judges laugh at him. Simon suggests that he not bother waiting to take himself somewhere else. They argue about whether they'll even let Markeis audition any more. Paula gets angry, because all those other folks out there are hyped about being on camera and he's just all, "Whatever." Paula demands, "Why are you disrespecting [the other contestants]?" Markeis shoots back, "Why not?" Ha! Marry me, Markeis. Paula whines that Markeis is wasting everybody's time (because he's distracting them from curing cancer and all), and Randy calls for Security to escort him out. Outside the audition room, Markeis asks Ryan how old he is. Then Markeis tells Ryan he looks like he's in his forties. Ha! Ryan doesn't seem particularly perturbed, because he doesn't care what anybody says about him as long as he gets to be on television some more, and "jokes" that it's from all the sun.
So after that awfulness, I'm sure they'll wisely contrast it with a good audition. Right? Right? we meet Lucas Dixon, a large, somewhat effeminate man with a Texas drawl. He's there to sing "How Sweet It Is" He's...not good. He's not horrifyingly bad, but he's not even really singing. He sounds and looks sort of like he's reading the news, but with a musical flair: "There was a five-car pile-up on Interstate Five today -- and there you were." After he's done, the judges sort of chuckle, and Simon marvels that Lucas hasn't been discovered yet. He asks Randy to explain the problem with Lucas from a "record-industry perspective." Randy says the first problem is Lucas can't sing. He says the he and Paula couldn't tell which song he was singing at first. Paula agrees with him. Lucas won't be coming to Hollywood.
up is Fookling Lee, or as I've been referring to her previously based on the commercials for the show, "Celestia." She's the Asian woman in the blue sleeveless shirt from the commercials, who sounds like she's singing in an invented language (as in the one Anne Heche claimed she spoke when she thought she was God). She tells the judges she's in Harvard graduate school and flew out just for the auditions. She claims she's really smart and skipped high school. She also claims her family's full of singers and she can play piano, saxophone, and clarinet. You know, it's a shame they spoiled this moment because of all the commercials. I mean, they're setting us up her in the episode for the dramatic irony of her singing being awful, but anybody who has watched more than five minutes of FOX since December already knows. So she sings, and she's insanely awful. Simon declares that she's one of the worst singers he's ever heard, of course. She's not invited to Hollywood.
Fookling's performance kicks off another montage of awful singers. Included among them is Latrice Godley -- a rather large...person. Based on the eye shadow, I can only assume Latrice is supposed to be a woman. Some other guy with orange hair goes by the name Carlos Pacheco, a name I immediately recognized as that of a famous comic-book artist. I'm pretty sure it's not him. I mean -- the comics industry hasn't gotten that bad. They're all rejected, of course.
Commercial break. We haven't had a single good singer yet.
When we return, Ryan reminds us again that it's raining. Thanks. Be careful not to get your hair wet, Ryan. You don't want to make your stylist cry again. Inside, we meet our performance artist -- Sarah Santiago. She's wearing a black camisole that has only one strap, and jeans. Sarah is the latest Donatella Versace impersonator, there to sing "That's the Way it Is." She is of course, awful. She stops, and asks if she can start again. They tell her not to bother, because she's awful. Randy says she sings like a ghost, whatever that means. But Sarah ignores them and starts singing again. They stop her and tell her she's awful. We hear thunder booming in the background. I was going to wonder if they actually added that later, but Randy mentions that the booms of thunder that accompany her singing are scaring him, so it seems to be real.
Paula starts to ask Sarah a question, but then Sarah spontaneously breaks out in more bad singing. Paula starts giggling at the awfulness. They try to shut her up, but she keeps on singing. In an interview, Randy describes everything we've just seen. That's just great. This was the one reality show where you didn't have people in interviews explaining to the audience everything we had just seen. The one. And now it's just like all the rest. Randy says that the weather got worse the more Sarah sang. Indeed, she starts singing yet again, and we can actually see flashes of light and booms from the storms. There must be a window somewhere in the audition room. Simon stops Sarah and tells her he's getting scared now. She's certainly got one up on Keith. Her singing can destroy the earth, like the Black Bolt, a Fantastic Four character whose origins Carlos Pacheco might have explained to us if that were actually him earlier. She starts singing yet again and claims she doesn't understand what's wrong with her voice. They finally get her to shut up long enough to tell her that she's not going to the round. Outside, Sarah insists to Ryan that she can dance, act, and sing (in addition to her supernatural ability to destroy the world), and they just let her walk out the door. But that's probably because this show has already released one timeless evil into the world, and they probably couldn't serve whatever evil fiend gave Sarah her powers as well. She tells the camera that the judges will be upset that they rejected her someday when they see her CD on the stands. Yeah, but only because they spotted it while fleeing from the four horsemen and suddenly realize why the Apocalypse is upon them.
So now it's finally time for a good audition, right? For contrast? Right? Hello? Anybody? Oh, great. up is some creepy little guy named Steven Rainwater, who has a shiny face with a big forehead and chipmunk cheeks. He's wearing a black suit with a white shirt that is unbuttoned way too far down his chest. He swaggers his way phonily down an aisle between the chairs at the waiting area, pretending to acknowledge the other people around him, looking like nobody so much as a used car salesman picking up a plaque at the annual Christmas party for unloading the most lemons, before getting in trouble for drunkenly flirting with the boss's wife. He chooses "She's A Lady," as his song choice and he's awful. So after drunkenly flirting with the boss's wife, the Used Car Salesman of the Year gets the karaoke ball rolling, and everybody stands around looking uncomfortably at the various potted plants that decorate the Legion Hall they've rented for the occasion and wonder how soon they can leave without being seen as "not a team player." He's cheesy and awful and plastic and smarmy. Simon and Randy both can barely work up the effort to tell him that he sucks. Randy declares that this contest is turning into a joke. "Turning"? Yeah, welcome to the world, Randy. Simon spits out the stupid "Houston, we have a problem" line. I'll bet they said that about fifty times in the two days they were there. Steven asks him there's anything he can improve upon. Simon suggests that he can improve by never singing again. He meekly thanks them and leaves.
Now we'll have a good audition, right? Right? up is Mallory, who is trying desperately for the "sexy librarian" look with her partly unbuttoned pinstriped blouse, pulled up to reveal her belly button, and brown miniskirt. She thinks she's going to be a hit because of her stage presence and her dancing. She heads in and starts butchering "I'm So Excited," while flailing around and molesting herself to the lyrics. While she sings and "dances," I flip through my contract with Television Without Pity trying to find exactly where I agreed to recap What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar? -- The Mini-Series. Simon tells her that she was awful. She begs to diffah. Randy suggests asking Paula what she thinks. Paula says that Mallory was terrible, and was very lackluster for a song called "I'm So Excited." This all turns into another stupid stunt for somebody who I'm certain was probably a plant. Mallory offers to prove them wrong. The judges suggest that she go to the nearest mall and sing for people. Simon says that if she brings back ten people who will vouch for Mallory's singing, he'll apologize. Paula briefly returns to her idiotic ways by telling Mallory to prove Simon wrong, as if she didn't just call the performance "terrible." In the confessional, Mallory shows off her ass wiggling and declares that "guys at parties like it," so she doesn't understand why the judges didn't. She is such a plant.
So we head over to the mall with Mallory and Ryan, and the same thing that happened with Rasheeda and the bar happens here. She's awful and nobody likes her. Somebody at the mall says they're embarrassed for her and another woman actually gets offended at the idea that Mallory is "representing" Houston. Mallory is unsuccessful in getting anybody to speak in favor of her singing, and leaves to go write about all the fun she had acting like a loony in her blog.
Commercials. We still have not had a single good audition.
When we return, we get a rain montage. No, really. Who needs to see any of the actual good performers? Let's just show a montage of clips of the storm interspersed with nasty judges' comments for bad auditions while "I'm Only Happy When it Rains" plays. Pour your misery down on us, indeed. Is this an object lesson? Are we supposed to be getting tired of seeing all the bad auditions? Is this the point? Because, good God, I have totally learned that lesson. I'm tired of the crappy singers. And dancers. And fakers singing poorly on purpose. I've had enough. We find out what Simon's "musical cheesecake" comment teased earlier meant. Surprisingly, he wasn't calling some girl a tramp. By "cheesecake," he means "quite hard work to get through, and once you finish, you don't want much more." I guess they don't have very good cheesecake in England. Unless perhaps Simon is the only other person on earth besides me who can't stand cheesecake. So we have that in common, too -- besides the sarcasm and the manboobs. Various pathetic losers declare they're not going to give up on their dreams and Simon sucks and blah blah blah blah blah. Incidentally, I've already gotten hate mail for my first recap of the season because I didn't adequately adore some performer we heard for all of ten seconds. In seasons it didn't start until at least the semi-finals. It's going to be a long spring.
Finally, a good performer! I mean that comparatively, of course. Sarah Silva wears a hideous, purple, off-the-shoulder blouse and white miniskirt and sings. Oh, ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! I take back what I said about her being a good performer. They might like her rendition of "At Last," but her screaming is causing my windows to rattle. You know how "At Last" is full of all those long, beautiful held notes? Not anymore. There isn't a single note that last for more than 0.3 seconds before it's trilled around or moved up or down or left or right or whatever vocal yo-yo tricks Sarah has used to replace actual emotional resonance. Bleah. Simon doesn't like her that much either. He says that her performance is "over the top." Paula and Randy both disagree and don't think Sarah's caterwauling was too much. So the two of them move her on to Hollywood, the first of the evening. Finally.
up is Kiira Bivens, and you don't know how much it pains me to have to type such a stupid name. Kiira is a product of the blonde bimbette pop clone factory. Like many products of the blonde bimbette pop clone factory, Kiira has a domineering mom overseeing her career. I wonder if all these "moms" aren't actually lead scientists keeping track of their creations. Kiira plays with her fuchsia camisole, "subconsciously" drawing our attention to her boobs, while Mad Dr. Mom tells us all how Kiira's going to be a star someday. Kiira's also wearing a stupid black hat. I don't know what style it is. It's almost a fedora, but not really. Oh, and she's wearing black leather pants. She performs "I Turn To You," and sings pretty much the way Sarah did, except she's got a bit of Southern Twang. Outside, Mad Dr. Mom tells us that Kiira's vocal coach told them Kiira's got one of the "highest E's" he's ever heard. Yeah, and my geometry professor once told me that I had the roundest circles he's ever seen. It sounds like something the coach probably just said to be polite and to keep a paying client. Simon grimaces at Kiira's singing. He cuts her off eventually and asks Randy what he thinks. Randy says he liked her singing, except for the "yodeling." I really didn't hear any yodeling. It sounded like the same trills that many of the other pop chanteuses had. Oh, she has a Southern accent -- I guess that makes it "yodeling." Kiira clutches her necklace and begs Randy not to hate the yodeling. Simon points out that Randy said he liked her singing, except for the yodeling, which means that he doesn't really like her singing. They argue about how much Kiira yodeled. Kiira keeps trying to interrupt them to insist that they love her or whatever. Simon says that only one note of ten wasn't yodeled, causing Kiira to gasp as though Simon had said only one of out ten baby dolphins weren't brutally slaughtered. Randy wants to put her through. Simon says that if she makes it, they'll hold the finals on the Swiss Alps, prompting another big fake gasp from Kiira.
So what does Paula think? Paula says she's bugged by the fact that Kiira is so "affected." Simon says that's exactly the word he was trying to think of, which prompts a big fake gasp from me at the idea that Paula was able to put into words what Simon was thinking. She can barely put into words what she's thinking. Paula goes on to say that Kiira comes off like she's putting on an act. She says she saw Kiira outside and she was acting normal, but now she's acting different in the room. They argue some more. Paula doesn't know which way to go. Randy defends Kiira by saying that she's modeling herself after other singers, because that's what aspiring singers do when they're only sixteen. That's a reasonable argument, except that they've rejected hundreds of other contestants for this very reason. Also, I hate Kiira already, so I refuse to consider it. Suddenly, Randy claims they should only be considering her voice. Paula points out that Randy is being a big hypocrite, because he damned well knows better. Randy continues to argue, and Simon and Paula both get up and walk out over Randy's stupidity. Randy declares in their absence she's going to Hollywood. Simon comes back and agrees, since there's really no point in arguing this stupidity any longer. Outside, Kiira explains how Paula told her she her performance was "affected," and cluelessly adds that the comment "went right over her head." Wow, somebody too dumb to keep up with Paula. That's rather sad.
During the commercial break, I call in to my newspaper to see if anybody left any important tips, only hear a crazy shrieking message from a woman who thinks the American Dental Association is paying me off not to report that we're all going to die from having mercury in my fillings. Between my job and these American Idol recaps (and subsequent hate mail), I think I deal with as many crazy people as a psychiatrist does.
Also, we're all going to die from the mercury in our fillings. Are you satisfied now, crazy lady?
When we return, it's Day Two at the auditions. Ryan declares that the contestants have a new problem now, because Paula has fallen sick due to a Botox reaction -- er, I mean "flu" -- so it's just Simon and Randy today. The performers all act like this is a big deal even though winning over Paula is utterly meaningless anyway. Some crazy man named Conrado has iron-on letters on his shirt begging Paula to marry him, so he's really missing out. Plus, he totally can't sing, so off he goes. Some horrible African-American version of Mallory writhes around to En Vogue's hip-hop variation of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," which I never knew existed and now I have to go kill myself out of horror. In an interview, Simon says he envied Paula for once, because she wasn't there.
up is Lonnie Hightower, who looks distressingly like Marcellas from Big Brother 3, up to and including the part where he's an utterly oblivious, self-absorbed drama queen. The green sweater-vest just screams "pop," doesn't it? I'm not nearly half the flamer Lonnie is and I would know better. He sings a jazzy version of "American the Beautiful" that includes finger-snapping. You know how those purple mountains majesty just love to freestyle. His singing is not good (but not as awful as it sounds like it might be), and his stage presence is pure Velveeta. What is with all the exaggerated facial expressions on these folks? You'd think they were auditioning to have their faces used as mask models for Japanese Noh Theater. Simon tells Lonnie that he thinks Lonnie would do a great job choreographing for performers on a cruise ship. Randy thinks Lonnie would do well on Broadway, because snapping your fingers and grimacing like you're passing a kidney stone are all you need to get a job in the revival of Annie, Get Your Gun. Lonnie seems to think he'd be a good R&B star, too, but Randy and Simon tell him otherwise. They tell him he's not right for this competition.
Outside, Lonnie has a diva storm-off down the hall, causing a crew member to inadvertently come crashing through this show's papier-mâché fourth wall as a camera catches him in the middle of Lonnie's ranting. The boy from the premiere with the lemon in his sinuses was also rejected here in Houston, and threatens to sue under the ADA for the show's discrimination against people with citrus fruits stuck in their skulls. The "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" butcherer comes out shrieking that they didn't give her a chance and she's good, y'all! She's good! So is Lemonhead! More people declare that Simon sucks. Somebody calls Simon a "butt-[bleep]." Yes, in the non-profanity "butthole," the part they had to bleep out was "hole." Lonnie continues to bitch at his rejection. In an interview, Randy says that they're giving these folks a shot at the "big time," and they're complaining about it. Well, yes, Randy, they're complaining about not making it, though. It's not like they're going, "Goddammit! Those butt-[bleep]s invited me to Hollywood!" ["Kiira kind of did, but that's just because she's a moron." -- Wing Chun] Randy says that if these folks can handle criticism, they need to get out of music. Lemonhead insists that he can sing. He's wrong. In the elevator, Lonnie tells us that, unlike many of these other losers, he knows that he has a right to be upset because he "knows that [he's] that damned good."
Anyway, let's have us a little less crazy. George Huff is making a mockery of his last name by being almost supernaturally pleasant. He's very excited that he's getting to meet Ryan Seacrest and points him out to all of us. He thinks it's really, really exciting to meet Ryan. George is also in his mid-forties, a fact that doesn't seem to bother anybody here. Maybe it's because all the young people are wretched. I'm old now. There's no getting around it. I'm dreading the day where I say something like, "If those kids don't turn down that racket, I'm calling the police!" The minute you refer to music as "a racket," you're just one step away from slacks with elastic waistbands. In the audition room, George is similarly excited to meet Randy and Simon. He explains that he was going to sing a song to Paula, but since he's not there, he's going to sing it to Randy, because, he says, he "looks good." See, I'm not the only one who thinks Randy's new style is a little feminine, even if it's on the moderately butch lesbian end of the spectrum. Anyway, George sings "You Are So Beautiful" to Randy, and he's okay. Like the only other two "good" singers we've had so far, there's too much ornamentation. The identifying caption claims to us that George is twenty-two. Maybe that's how old he was when this song was first released. When he's done, Randy says he likes George's singing, but says he "sounds old," which I guess is code for "is forty-four." Also he's dressed in a tan '70s suit, emphasizing the fact that he's old. Simon thinks George would do great singing at bars and weddings and such, or anywhere that forty-four-year-olds hang out, not listening to any of the music Simon's corporate masters would like to sell. They argue about it, but Simon relents, and George is invited to Hollywood. George celebrates.
Commercials. When we return, we meet Christopher Huang, and apparently he's another faker according to some posts on the forums, which probably comes as cold comfort for anybody trying to counter negative images about Asian-Americans. He wears a stupid fedora and sings "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You" while pronouncing all the lyrics the Charlie Chan way. After him is Cassie LaBeau, a pretty blonde wearing a tan camisole with one strap and leopard-print miniskirt. She's there to sing "Stormy Weather." She starts, sings the first two lines of the song with no egregious errors, and Simon stops her to tell her she's off to the round. Snerk. She sang thirteen whole syllables, but that was enough for him. Plus, she's hot, so there you go. Randy chuckles.
up is Roman Gutierrez, who can't sing. I'm as tired of it as the judges are. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh about the producers filtering out the auditions. If I were in Simon's shoes at this point, they'd have to hold me back to keep me from leaping off the table and ripping out Roman's voicebox with my teeth. He monotones his way through "I Can Love You Like That." They tell him he can't sing. He backtalks them and says he thinks they don't "understand" him. He demands they tell him what was wrong. He wasn't in tune, in key, blah blah blah. Simon gets annoyed at the whole thing, says he's giving up, gets up, fumbles his wire off, and walks away. Roman insists on singing another song, but Randy gets up to walk away as well. Roman then starts singing "I Had the Time of My Life" to an empty room. Well, empty, except for the cameras that give him the tiny moment of fame he doesn't have the good sense to be embarrassed about.
Commercials. When we return, it's almost over. Yay! The final "performer" for the episode is Jonathan Ray, a shiny-faced boy who needs to change shampoos to something that deals with oily hair. He's there to sing "You're the One I Need." He also sounds like he's doing an impersonation of Donatella Versace, except he also has a bizarre vibrato in his voice. He's hysterically awful. Simon tries desperately not to laugh and slowly fails. Randy keeps his head down to try to keep from laughing, but fails. Randy gets up and leaves. Simon tells Jonathan he's terrible. Jonathan asks if there's another song he can sing. Simon says no. Jonathan walks up to the table then, and grabs Simon's cup of water and tosses it at him. A security guy tackles Jonathan as he giggles like it's the coolest thing ever. He's led out of the room and escorted from the premises to meet the police. Jonathan explains to them that he only did it to impress Jodie Foster, so Simon decides not to press charges. That's my tackiest joke ever. But the part about Simon not pressing charges is accurate.