We open with a clip montage of London (Airports! Buildings! Birds! Speedboats! Ferris wheels! Desperate young people who want to be famous forever and ever!) as a couple of Brits voice over that Idol winners from eleven different nations have arrived here to compete for the title of "World Idol."
Ew. I thought the opening credits for American Idol were cheap. It looks like they just wrote out "World Idol" on a piece of paper, scanned it in, and used Photoshop to make it look a bit shiny. After a brief glimpse of a world map, it switches into the well-known opening of the liquid metal transsexual.
Oh my. This stage is hysterical. It's like the set for the last iteration of American Bandstand mated with the set for the late kids' game show, Fun House. Don't ask me why I know that show. I thought J.D. was hot. Shut up. The set, combined with the somewhat grainy filming and the really bad clothes and coifs in the audience, makes me feel as though I've gone back in time to the '80s and am watching television at about 2 PM on Saturday.
And now your hosts, Marilyn McCoo and Andy Gibb. No, not really. The hosts are Ant and Dec (short for Anthony and Declan), the duo who hosted the original British incarnation of the show. Ant looks like he's about 60 percent head, but they're both more entertaining and less pathetic and self-absorbed than Ryan Seacrest, so I can live with it. Apparently, viewers in various countries got different taped hosts, making me wonder exactly who Ryan Seacrest pissed off. I wonder if it's a whole Joan Rivers/Tonight Show thing where he didn't tell them he was getting his own syndicated talk show and now they're furious with him. Or maybe he's in rehab. Or getting plastic surgery. Or had an accident with the tanning shower and now he glows in the dark. Whatever. Ant and Dec tromp down on stage to a cheering audience. They greet everybody and explain the history of the show, apologizing for their responsibility in making Simon Cowell a household name. They've adapted the show for twenty-two different countries so far. You're , Mongolia! Ant and Dec introduce the eleven contestants down on the stage, as the audience cheers some more. I'll save the details for each performance, although I'm sure the folks in the many nations with various differing cultures in the Middle East just love being referred to like a single country called "Pan-Arabic Region." After each contestant, we get to see their allies (or maybe just Brits bribed to wave their flags) in the audience. England's representative, Will Young, gets the most cheers, of course. He's still got that awful mullet.
Oh, and we get eleven judges, too. Why, it's 3.times the pointless conflict disguised as entertainment! Ant and Dec introduce them all to us: Zak Werner from Canada, wearing the finest car seat money can buy; Kuba Wojewodzski from Poland, who…well…I don't want to give it all away now; Elias Rahbani, the "Pan Arab" judge, who smiles and pretends it's not insulting to have his national identity stripped from him; Nina De Man from Belgium, who is terribly pretty, even with the Lisa Loeb glasses, and is my second-favorite judge; Jan Fredrik Karlsen from Norway, who has '60s Beatles hair; Henkjan Smits from Holland, who gives us all a thumbs-up to indicate how many minutes of screen time he's probably going to get; Ian Dickson from Australia, who has '70s Beatles post-break-up hair; Randall Abrahams from South Africa, looking a bit like Bryant Gumbel at some angles; Shona Fraser from Germany, who by smiling threatens to destroy the world with her overbite; Peter Waterman from the United Kingdom, looking far too normal to be here; and Simon Cowell, representing the United States, because why even have the contest at all if nobody's going to be humiliated? Simon is the only one to get booed. He's also in the last spot so that he can get the last word.
Ant and Dec then explain the rules to us. You vote for the one you like most. Unless the one you like most is from your own country. Each contestant is assumed to win his or her own country and gets the maximum number of "points." Otherwise, each contestant would win his or her country of origin and only his or her country of origin, causing an eleven-way tie. Well, it's possible the German contestant wouldn't win his own country, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Dec reminds us that there's a whole world outside of America, believe it or not. Jeez, Dec, we're not stupid -- we need the rest of the world to keep our labor costs down and our military contractors in Porsches. Anyway, melodramatic soap opera music plays as Ant and Dec inform us that we'll have to vote for a non-American. Or just not vote at all, which is also a very American thing to do.
Finally, it's time to start the contest. The first contestant is Alexander Klaws. For each contestant, we get a little clip show to explain how he or she won. Alexander apparently won Germany over with his boy-band looks and comprehensive rejection of shirt sleeves. But he had to overcome his competition, some young woman who looks like a back-up singer in an old Pat Benatar video. She's singing "99 Luft Balloons" on stage in a red t-shirt and black-and-white-striped tight-fitting pants. Wait! The hosts narrate that this is a guy! Named Daniel. I just don't know what to say. Everything about him -- voice, looks, hair, clothes -- screams "girl trapped forever in the '80s." But Daniel didn't win, because they wouldn't want somebody getting up there on the international stage and embarrassing Germany or anything. Cough.
So Alexander comes out to the stage in a burgundy sleeveless shirt (and matching armbands) and jeans to sing "Maniac." I think…I think this show has sent me back in time. Where did these parachute pants come from? Look, it's my old red-and-white [product-placed cola] sweater, which was all the rage back around 1987. I'm going to go buy a six-pack of Tab and then go see Back to the Future so I can hear jokes about Pepsi Free. And learn how time travel works so I can go steal a DeLorean and find a way to get myself back home to 2003.
And what is there to say about Alexander's performance, other than that it has the power to turn back time? It's awful. He prances about the stage, snapping his right hand around like a Jet looking for a Shark to dance menacingly at. It's mostly shouting and hardly any singing, which is my recollection of the original as well, so good work there, Alexander. If the show were judging armpits, I think Alex would be a top contender, but otherwise, not a chance. He's wearing those headset microphones that normally signify to me that the performer is lip-syncing (hey there, Britney), but sadly he's not. There's a lot of pointing and wiggling and prancing. It's so wonderfully terrible. Christopher Guest is probably having an orgasm watching this. There are fireworks during this number. Sparks shooting up from the front of the stage. Let's hope none of them land on Alexander's gelled hair, causing a recreation of Michael Jackson's accident back in the '80s.
After the awful is over, we cut back to some dressing room, where Kelly Clarkson pretends she's watching these performances as they're happening and commenting on them. Kelly diplomatically says she thinks Alexander was great and would do well onstage or in the theater. Where he won't ever be accidentally inflicted on anybody stuck in an elevator or listening to the radio in the car.
Back onstage, we get a handful of specially selected judges' comments designed to influence our votes. Yay! Henkjan says Alexander danced around like a male stripper and didn't hit the notes. Ian says he doesn't want anyone to ever tell him that the Germans don't have a sense of humor. The audience laughs at this comment, but they clearly don't understand what it means, because when he says Alexander's performance was "a comedy routine," the audience gasps. Shona, the German judge, defends Alexander, suggesting that there's too much testosterone on the jury (what the hell does that mean?), and they weren't really paying attention to his performance, and he picked a hard, up-tempo song, and he had a cold, and his grandmother died, and he missed his bus, and his dog ate his homework. Simon starts, typically, "Okay, without being rude, it was terrible." Sometimes I'd like to be a judge just so I can say, "It was terrible, and I'm totally being rude about it. Bite me." Simon suggests that it was Alexander's personality (read: boy-band looks) that got him to this point. Alexander interrupts to give the "I only have two minutes so you all can't get to see the real me" excuse, which falls on deaf ears around the world. You're singing, not asking us out. Alexander heads over to Ant and Dec, who have those mysterious drinking fountain stools from the first season. Those things look uncomfortable. They ask Alexander if he's enjoying London. He is. Everything's great. Look at my armpits! The audience cheers him, and Ant and Dec give the number to call if you want to have a good time with Alex.
Twenty-nine commercials. When we return, Ant and Dec make a joke at France's expense. Apparently their idol didn't participate for some reason. Yes, clearly the French Idol made the wrong decision, foolishly giving the show a reason to mock him in his absence rather than letting the show mock him in person.
They introduce the contestant, Guy Sebastian from Australia. I really hope that shot of fireworks over the Sydney Opera House is from the Olympics and not from -- damn, it is from the Australian Idol finale. That's just craziness. Guy has a gigantic afro. It's his trademark. His fans wore giant afros in a show of support. It's bigger than Justin's. Actually, he looks a bit like Jack Osbourne, but with better grooming habits. And he has fiercely defined eyebrows. You could cut glass with his eyebrows. Apparently, Australia rallied behind his weird, nasal vocals and charisma. He performs "Crazy in Love" during the competition. No, really. If only he had danced the way Beyoncé had in the video, I would have totally voted for him.
Guy heads out on stage, shuffling through dry ice fog in gray ripped jeans, a red t-shirt, and white sport coat to sing the worst adaptation of "What a Wonderful World" ever created by human beings. It has synthesizers in it. You do not have sound effects in a freakin' Louis Armstrong song. Was this arrangement put together by Ross Gellar? They turned the song into some crappy, upbeat "animals frolicking in a Disney cartoon" monstrosity. It's even worse than the arrangement of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" that Clay sang. And Guy's nasal tenor is a little creepy to me. And he makes Kelly seem restrained with the trills and melisma. You know what? This is what it would have been like if America had rallied behind E-Jay in the first season. Guy heads off the stage briefly to flirt with a guy in the front row. And then he heads back. We really have, as a world, dumbed down the definition of "charisma."
"Backstage," Kelly tells us she loved Guy and he had great stage presence. Kelly is a total "Shift-F1" judge. Zak, the Canadian judge, says he hated the arrangement, but adds some nonsensical comment that Guy sounded like he came from "Down Under -- Down Under Memphis." Dude, I think owning a drum machine is a felony in Memphis. Kuba, the Polish judge, reads from a card in broken English that the highest honor a judge would give their contestants would be to invite them to join the judges for Polish vodka. He would extend such an honor to Guy. He'd like to get drunk with teens. He even holds up two airplane bottles of booze. Well, that's…interesting. Ian, the Australian judge, thinks Guy was amazing, of course. Pete, the British judge, thinks Guy is a definite contender to win. Everybody cheers. Guy joins Ant and Dec on the drinking fountain stools. They mention that he's only been the Australian Idol for five weeks now, and here he is in front of the whole world. Yes, yes he is. These guys may be wittier, but they're no better at these interviews than Ryan is.
Forty-four commercials. When we return, Ant insults Simon. It's no better than any of the insults we've heard in the States. Dec says, "What has Canada ever given us? Ice hockey, enormous moose, and Celine Dion." Ant responds, "But it's not all bad!" The bad, overrehearsed joke gets a small laugh. Their representative to the competition is Ryan Malcolm, playing the titular role in the hot new WB series hitting the airwaves this fall, Young Elvis Costello. Join him in his struggle to work trenchant observations onto an album his evil music executive masters insist must be titled Bootay! Bootay! Bootay!, while trying to draw the eye of a sassy young diner waitress with a secret past on the wrong side of the tracks. Tuesday nights at 9 PM (8 PM Central)! Ryan is the Canadian equivalent of Clay Aiken, nerdy but with a technically proficient voice. He even got rejected in the semi-finals, only to make it back in as a wild card. Except that he won the whole contest, unlike Clay, not that it matters anymore. He's also compared to Buddy Holly.
Ryan also trudges through the fog to get to his mark and sing "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother." He's wearing a black suit with a pink shirt. He's smooth, technically excellent, but lacking a lot of charisma. He sounds a lot like Clay, though his glory notes are less pronounced and not as unnecessarily high. That may be the result of the Canadian-American exchange rate. He even moves around onstage a bit like Clay does. Anyway, I feel about Ryan's performance the way I feel about most of Clay's: Meh.
"Backstage," Kelly gives her Shift-F1 of approval. Back onstage, we start with Kuba, the Polish judge. He stumbles through his pre-written comment: "Ryan, I will never again go for holiday to your country, because your fan club will kill me. You sing like a runaway from a boys' band." Actually, that's pretty coherent. But…just wait. Elias, the Pan Arab judge, likes Ryan and says he'll buy his CD. Zak, the Canadian judge, wants to have Ryan's babies. I have no idea what the other judges said, because they're all edited out so that there's enough room to advertise every product sold in the United States, but when Ryan heads over to Ant and Dec, they act as though there were several nasty comments besides Kuba's. My understanding is that Simon was Simon-esque, which makes me wonder why they didn't show him. Ryan says he's confident. Ant and Dec don't have much to add.
Sixty-seven commercials. When we return, Ant and Dec call the show "the United Nations of Pop." I wish somebody had given me veto power. We head over to Europe again to meet Holland's winner, Jamai Loman. "Jamai" is Dutch for "Nnnnnext!" This contestant has all the impact on this show of a straw wrapper dropped off a bridge. His thing is that he has a collection of glasses, and he wears a different pair for each performance. His mother made him audition. He forgot the words to "Livin' La Vida Loca." I wouldn't necessarily penalize him for that. Anyway, he dresses bad, is sort of nerdy and not in a cute way, and can bite through rebar with his giant teeth. But he won.
Jamai heads out on stage in a boring black outfit with matching jeans and yellow-tinted glasses that look like safety goggles. He's there to sing "'Sorry' Seems to Be The Hardest Word," by his own idol, Elton John.
So our contestant is Heinz, from the…what? Forget somebody? Who did I…oh, Jamai! He was just singing. Wow, I just totally blanked him out, because he's so damned boring. Sorry about that. Anyway, Heinz comes out on stage wearing a…what? Why do you keep interrupting me? You're ruining my flow here and I've got all these other contestants…who? Jamai? Who is Jamai? Oh…Jamai. Oh. Did he already sing? I don't remember him. Hang on, let me rewind. Oh, yeah. Boring guy with the glasses. So Heinz…what? Oh, I didn't recap Jamai's singing? His singing is boring. I actually have nothing to say about him in any way, shape or form. He makes Julia DeMato seem positively energetic. He has no stage or musical presence whatsoever. He isn't even bad enough to be entertaining. He's just…there.
Nina, the hot Flemish judge, says she watched Jamai during the Dutch show and thought he did very well, but she doesn't think he's quite ready for the world stage. Henkjan, the Dutch judge, says Jamai should be proud of himself because he's the youngest competitor, and it doesn't matter if he's as interesting as a cherry pit. Shona, the German judge, who has a perpetual look of surprise on her face, thought he was boring, too. Pete, the British judge, thinks Jamai was just great and can come around to his place and "sing" for him anytime. Remember how comments like that used to be perfectly innocent? Simon says Jamai probably won because there aren't that many good singers in Holland. Pete interrupts to say that Simon has no way of knowing that. Just because there aren't any successful Dutch singers that Simon knows of doesn't mean there aren't any. Simon non-sequiturs that this is a "World Idol" competition, and Jamai just didn't pull it off on a world stage.
Jamai heads over to Ant and Dec, who ask him how many pairs of glasses he has. He has twenty-eight. That's not even a high enough number to be really quirky. Is Elton John really Jamai's idol? Yes, yes he is. Thanks for joining us for yet another lousy interview.
up is the South African winner, Heinz Winckler, who everybody insists to me is really attractive. They call him "Hunky Heinz." He's one of those pretty boys who realizes how pretty everybody thinks he is, so he doesn't even bother to be interesting because he doesn't think he needs to be, and so he suddenly becomes less pretty the more and more you realize that he offers absolutely nothing more than you can get from just looking at a picture of him. Anyway, despite the fact that his singing was merely okay, and he has absolutely no charisma, he beat out a better singer because he's just so very pretty.
Heinz heads out to the stage in practically the same outfit as Jamai (except with an AIDS ribbon), but he's pretty, so it doesn't matter if his outfit is dull. He's going to sing "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing." Uch. He's just as boring as Jamai, but he's not so easily forgotten because he's pretty. He just stands there and sings, stiff as a board, tapping a foot and occasionally gesturing. The poor cameramen have to resort to a million panning, zooming, and lens-spinning tricks to make him look interesting. It's like when my newspaper photographer has to shoot something boring, and he takes the picture at some bizarre angle to make it look fun or engaging.
"Backstage," Kelly says Heinz will do well (even she had nothing to say about Jamai). Her compliments about Heinz are based entirely on his good looks; she says absolutely nothing about his singing. Zak, the Canadian judge, says Heinz would have been great if this were a Mister Universe pageant, but since it's a singing contest, he's got nothing. I'm sure he meant a male beauty pageant of some sort, but I suspect Heinz, while attractive, wouldn't do so well in a bodybuilding contest either. Kuba says, "The only thing that is keeping me here is the gravitation force, the market value of the pound, and the fact that my plane leaves tomorrow. It's absolutely not my cup of tea."
Sidebar: The year was 1982. A then-unknown young cheerleader/choreographer had not yet been discovered by the Jacksons and hired to work on their Victory Tour. On a summer holiday in London, she encountered an ambitious young music executive with a bad-boy attitude and a mullet to die for. They first encountered each other in a music store and had a nasty shouting match over who grabbed the last copy of Dexy's Midnight Runner's "Too-Rye-Ay" first. She agreed to let him have it as long as he took her on a tour of London. They fought over the course of the entire tour, arguing about the stupidest of things. But by the end of the evening they both succumbed to their inexplicable passion and made fiery, vicious love as "Come On Eileen" blared from a tape deck in his mum's flat. But their indiscretion had a consequence nine months later. She didn't want an abortion. He certainly had no intentions of supporting it. So the child was secretly sent behind the Iron Curtain to Poland, where nobody would look. He grew up, confusing all around him with his comments, which were both bizarrely incomprehensible and also unnecessarily cruel. And unwittingly, he found himself on the same judging panel as his long-lost father, never realizing the truth. And now, you know…the rest of the story.
Ah, where were we? Pete, the British judge, says he wishes he was on whatever Kuba is on. At this point, who doesn't? Nina, the hot Belgian judge, says that Heinz looks good and sings well, but needs to add some "sparkle" to his performance. Isn't he a little too pretty as it is? Ian, the Australian judge, says that he's heard a lot of "rubbish" about how this is a "singing competition," but he's calling bullshit because he lives on Earth and he knows better. Heinz is pretty and his singing doesn't shatter glass, and that's really all that matters. Randall, the South African judge, think Heinz is awesome and hopes he will ask him to the prom. Simon says Heinz has a nice voice, looks good, but lacks charisma. God, he's such a bastard. Heinz heads over to Ant and Dec. Ant asks a question about the criticism about Heinz's charisma, but then answers it himself by saying that Heinz won his country's contest, after all, so there must be something, which pretty much leaves Heinz with nothing to say. Great interviewing there, guys. Heinz non-answers about making the most of his chances, which is the stock Idol response when an interviewer asks something stupid.
Eighty-three commercials. When we return, there's a horrid reference to "pole dancing," which is actually a reference to Poland, and not strippers. This is all to set up an awful joke at Simon's expense. Simon sticks out their tongue at them. The highbrow jokes of this show are too much for me. Damned esoteric European humor. Anyway, the singer is Poland's winner, Alex. Real name: Alicja Janosz. We get a montage of their awful auditions, including one of a guy who is apparently there to show off the lower jaw of a triceratops that he found in his backyard. Anyway, teeny blonde Alex sailed her way through the competition. Whoa, they had back-up dancers in their competition. Did they have a bigger budget than the American version? I wouldn't be surprised. The neighborhood 7-11 has a bigger budget than the American version of the show.
Alex heads out to the stage in a red sleeveless blouse and jeans to sing "I Don't Know How To Love Him" from Jesus Christ, Superstar. Merry Christmas, y'all! What better way to spend the holiday than listen to an overly made-up sixteen-year-old girl do an impersonation of Blondie while singing a song about whether or not to seduce the son of God? Oh, and also, sing it very badly? Very loudly and very badly? And out of key? And really, really badly? And staring into the camera creepily? She practically shrieks her way to the finish line. She makes Nikki McKibbin seem nuanced.
"Backstage," Kelly says, "She's so cute -- she's just like the Energizer Bunny." I don't ever recall the Energizer Bunny screaming at me, but fine. Also notice the failure to comment on the actual quality of Alex's singing. Back on stage, Shona, the German judge, says Alex has a big voice she doesn't know quite what to do with and a massive personality. Kuba says something to Alex in Polish ("God, this show is boring. Let's act like freaking loonies and draw attention away from that dreadful Simon person"). Alex responds in Polish ("I agree. I'll act like you're the most repulsive person on the planet and we'll become the talk of the whole show"). They're interrupted by the other judges. Alex "translates" that Kuba needs the help of God now after what he said about the other contestants. And she hates him. Well, Kuba's not the one who sang about doing Jesus, so I'm not sure he's the one who has to worry. Kuba sinks down in his seat, making devil horn gestures, mission accomplished. He's a star now! A star! Pete, the British judge, calls Alex "completely barmy" and says she's as bad as Kuba. Well, mission accomplished on her end, too. Simon tells Alex she's out of her depth and will be "one of the eleven winners who will be one of the ten losers." Alex isn't terribly bothered by Simon's comments, because the Polish contingent has totally drawn all attention away from him now. She heads over to Ant and Dec, who ask her if everybody from Poland is "mad." She jokes that they are. There are more comments about how she and Kuba don't like each other.
One hundred and thirty-seven commercials. When we return, it's time for the "Pan Arab" idol, Diana Karazon, representing twenty-two different nations, even though she's from Jordan. Who cares if they all have their own individual cultures and interests? They're small, so we'll just smoosh them all together. Apparently, when Lebanon's favorite was ejected, violence nearly broke out on the set. She and the other female finalists do look honestly terrified on the set.
Diana heads out to the seal in an elegant black dress with white and fuschia trim that looks like a robe. I barely know what to call American fashion, let alone clothes from another culture, so you'll just have to live with that description. I didn't even know what a camisole was until last year. Diana has black hair that's feathered back, but in the modern faux-retro style like Sheryl Crow and not the real retro style, like the judge from Australia. The gray eye shadow is a bit much, though. Diana's the only contestant singing a song that isn't in English, but sadly, the folks at the show aren't in communication with the captioners, as usual, and I have no idea what it's called. She's also not thin, if that matters to anybody. She's not fat either, but she's no television stick-figure lady. I, of course, have no idea what she's singing about, but her voice is lovely. Like a lot of female performers I've seen on this show, she sounds a little rough in her lower register. If she were singing in English, she'd probably be doing that growling trick some female singers do when they can't hit the low notes. But overall, it's a classy and very talented performance. She projects a sense of longing in her emoting, which I hope is appropriate for what she's singing. I imagine it must be because people don't normally emote sadness into their songs unless they mean it.
"Backstage," Kelly gives her Shift-F1 of approval. She can call Diana her favorite because she knows there's no way Diana's going to win. Back at the stage, Nina, the cool Belgian judge, she says that it's going to be very tough for Diana to win over the voters because she didn't sing in English, but adds that she found Diana's performance enchanting. Simon says he doesn't have a clue whether Diana's singing is any good or not because he doesn't understand what the song is about. Oh, for heaven's sake, Simon -- even when the song is in English, you frequently don't know what it's about. Pete, the British judge, asks if Simon liked it. Simon says no, because it's not shitty pop music, but adds that he did like her voice. Elias, the Pan Asian judge, points out that they aren't judging the lyrics or the music, they're judging Diana's voice, and he thinks she did great. Ian, the Australian judge, points out that good music "transcends language barriers," and he thinks Diana did just that. Diana doesn't get a horrible interview with Ant and Dec, and I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Three hundred and forty-nine commercials. When we return, it's time for "our" Kelly Clarkson. I'm most assuredly not going to recap the story of how she won the first time around. I spent an entire summer doing that. The part I do like, though, is that they don't let Simon's revisionist history stand, pointing out that he didn't even notice her at first.
Kelly heads out to the stage in her Charlie Girl "wearing boyish clothes in a feminine way" suit, complete with a hat, to sing "Natural Woman." God, she's still got that cocaine junkie eye shadow going on. Somebody needs to put a stop to that. Her singing is good, but still not on par with what she sang during the actual competition. She sounds better than on those wretched original songs she's been performing, but that's not saying much. There is way, way, way too much melisma and trilling. The song is about to collapse under the weight of the ornamentation. The thing that made Kelly stand out in the first season is that she could hit all these big notes and not throw all this unnecessary crap into it, and now here she is, just like all the rest. It's disappointing.
Zak from Canada says that he thinks Kelly has an amazing voice, but feels the need to point out that she occasionally gets into a "shouting with tone" area in her singing. He also thinks that her singing doesn't quite compare with the R&B divas. Kuba from Poland says, "Kelly, I would like to find you under my Christmas tree. Thank you." Well, that was hysterically creepy. Kelly laughs uncomfortably and thanks him. Elias from the mythical land of Pan Arab says that Kelly was super. Nina from Belgium thinks that Kelly is a true star but is still modest. Jan from Norway (whom we haven't seen since he was introduced) also thinks Kelly is a true star. Henkjan from Holland says it's "impossible to say anything negative" about her. I guess he clearly wasn't listening to Zak, then. He says that Kelly sang it the way Carole King would have wanted it to be sung. Ian from Australia thinks Kelly is the "real deal." Randall from South Africa also thinks Carole King would be proud of Kelly's rendition. Shona from Germany thinks Kelly was great. Pete says that Kelly's got a great voice, but he hates all the "trills and frills" she adds to the notes. Kelly says that her own mother is the same way, which is why we should all listen to our mothers. Simon says it's "pointless" to tell Kelly how great she is, because she's already proven herself. Then he bitches at Zak, telling him he's not "fit" to judge Kelly and he doesn't know what he's talking about. He says the Kelly is a racehorse compared to the other contestants, who are all donkeys. One of the great things about our nation is that you don't even have to be born here to become an ugly American. Way to go, Simon! Kelly heads over to Ant and Dec, and they all compliment each other on their suits. Did she love the amazing levels of praise? Yes, she did. Wonderful. Oh, and she totally understands where Pete's criticism is coming from, but sometimes she just "feels" it. Well, sometimes I feel like telling people to fuck off and die, but I've learned that's generally not the appropriate way to handle complaints at the workplace. Resist the urge, Kelly! Resist!
Oh, it wouldn't be an "Idol" show if we didn't have some sort of countdown of bad auditions. Apparently there was a worst ten countdown, but since we've got more crap to shill than other countries, we only get five. At number five, some woman inexplicably covers her ears with her hands and waggles them like she's impersonating a fish as she sings "Didn't We Almost Have It All?" At number four, some skinny guy simply speaks the words to "You're Always on My Mind." At number three, some guy just sings that he's Japanese and that he doesn't know what he's singing and holds a ridiculously awful note. At number two, some guy in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts sings "My Way" in an awful, gravelly bass. The judges giggle. And number one is our precious "Like a Virgin" Keith, forever crowned the "worst singer in the world." Part of me feels sorry for him, but the rest of me wants this humiliation to air almost nightly as an object lesson for untalented fame whores who stupidly think they're going to make it. I know it won't work, though -- you honestly can't penetrate that level of self-absorption. They're like the kids who eat bugs. They don't care if people are going "Ewwww!" as long as they keep watching them.
Seven hundred and twenty-one commercials. We return to Ant and Dec, who send us off to Belgium to meet Peter Evrard, a rocker (and sewage worker). He has long hair and this ridiculous length of facial hair growth coming down from his chin. If it were trimmed properly, it would be a soul patch. This is a "soul rope," I guess. He sang rock, and nobody could tell if he'd be a pop star. Then he sang "Living La Vida Loca" and proved that, no, he wouldn't be a pop star. Well, that's what I took away from that horrifying clip. Belgium loved it, though, and he won.
Peter heads out onstage in black Gothwear to perform Nirvana's "Lithium." How did they get the rights for this? Now we know why Courtney's in rehab. This is a fascinating performance in the way it shows that certain styles of songs just don't belong in a contest like this. Kurt's songs come from a very personal place, and while he succeeded because so many people identified with them, it's still a personal song, and it just feels awkward to hear it as a cover. I think, in many cases, pop's overall generic sentiment is what makes these contests work. "A Moment Like This" and "Flying Without Wings" and "Invisible" are just representations of rather vague emotional states that most people can relate to as singers. "Lithium" is not so much one of those songs. Trying to sing "Lithium" would probably make me realize that, in the overall scheme of things, I'm not as miserable as I like to pretend I am. Peter sounds like he's just going through the motions trying to sound like Kurt, and I'm not feeling any true connection to the song from him. Oh, and the steam jets really aren't helping.
"Backstage," Kelly gives her Shift-F1 of approval, saying she's glad Peter brought some rock to the show. Out onstage, Nina, the cool Belgian judge, says the Belgian judges worried that Peter wouldn't fit the pop mold. As it turned out, he didn't -- he just made his own, "unique" mold. One that just sort of resembles a lot of music molds from America during the '90s. But whatever. Elias, the Pan Arab judge, says Peter has the look and sound of a rock star, but needs to work on his sound some more. Man, a judge from the other side of the world from American grunge can tell Peter's just a poser. Shona, the German judge, thinks Peter would have sounded better with a band with him onstage. She doesn't think this is the right show for him. Simon declares this is the "weirdest show" he's ever been on in his life. See, even he's forgotten that Cupid ever existed. Good idea. He thinks there's something odd in the fact that a judge from Lebanon is telling a "Kurt Cobain impersonator" whether he's any good. Well, Simon, not every music lover lives in the same tiny bubble of self-absorption that you do. Clearly, Elias has listened to a lot of music. Considering you're British, what makes you any better as a judge? Simon does accurately say that this competition would be Kurt's "biggest nightmare." He says Peter is conforming, when rock-and-roll is about not conforming. Well, giving off the appearance of not conforming, anyway.
Simon repeats the sheep in wolf's clothing line he used against faux-rocker Patrick Lake last season. Pete from England agrees that a serious rocker wouldn't appear on this show. Peter draws applause from the audience when he says that guys like Pete and Simon have made it so that this is the only way young performers can get noticed. Judge Pete asks how they got Kurt Cobain, then. Dude, a lot has changed since Cobain. A lot. I don't think Nirvana would make it in today's music industry. Simon insists that Kurt did it through "being real." He did it because folks like Simon didn't have as much power over music as they do now. Unfortunately, Peter doesn't make the same observation, descending into the boring "Who are you to judge me?" argument. Bleah. Kuba shows his support of Peter by standing up and giving him devil horns. ["KUBA, IF YOU'RE READING THIS, SHACK WOULD TOTALLY SLEEP WITH YOU." -- Tsathoggua] ["That's a lie! That's a damned…no. No, it's not. I love you, Kuba!" -- Shack] Peter heads over to Ant and Dec, who ask him about the "keepin' it real" thing. He says he knows where he's from and he knows who his supporters are and he'll be fine.
One thousand four hundred and forty-two commercials. When we return, it's time for England's representative. Ant and Dec "joke" that England is home to several hundred failed royal marriages, warm beer, and Madonna, but we can have Madonna back if we want her. Yes, but then we'd have to take Guy Ritchie, too, so you can keep her. They remind us that the show actually started in England, and the first idol was crowned on that very stage. And that would be Will Young, whose singing we all cringed through back in the finale of the first season here in the States. In the clip show, they actually focus on Simon first, as its break-out star. Will was the first contestant to ever talk back to Simon, they claim, which I don't believe for a moment. They argue over Simon's claim that Will is "average," which just goes to show that Simon isn't nearly nasty enough sometimes. Since Will won, he's had four number one hits in England, sold a million albums, and even sung for the Queen.
Will heads onto the stage, still waging his one-man campaign to bring back the mullet. It's not happening. Give it up. He's wearing gray jeans, a white shirt, and a gray vest, and is going to sing "Light My Fire." Ack! Creepy staring! Ack! I wish I could explain why it gives me the heebie-jeebies when singers just stare directly into the camera when they're singing. I think it's because so many of them don't really have any real, earned connection with the song, so their eyes are all glassy and empty. It's like looking into the eyes of a serial killer. Perhaps I'm overanalyzing this. But it is honestly creepy to me to stare into the eyes of some of these singers. I actually have to turn the channel if a Train video comes on. Uh, anyway, Will is just as nasal and boring as he was the last time I heard him, but his vibrato isn't as pronounced this time. If Keith, "the worst singer in the world," could actually carry a tune, he would sound just like Will Young. Oh, and the gouts of flame coming out of the stage and the fire visuals on the monitors in the back of the stage are terribly sad. People are not stupid. They don't need songs to be made literal. God.
"Backstage," Kelly declares that Will is "very classy," which says nothing about his singing. Back at the stage, Kuba says, "It sounded like Mr. Bean singing Jim Morrison. If I was part of Morrison family, I would sue you." I love him. I'm going to marry Kuba. He'll teach me how to hold my liquor, and I'll teach him how to insult people clearly in English. Or maybe it's funnier in broken English. We'll figure something out. Will chuckles as the audience boos. Randall, the South African judge, points out correctly that Will actually did an interpretation of Jose Feliciano's cover of the song, and thinks he didn't a great job. Pete from England says that Will's proven that the show can find "real talent." He says that all of England is proud of him. Simon, mentally visualizing Will being consumed by sharks, apologizes on behalf of the Polish judge, who is rubbing his pen back and forth between his upper lip and his nose. His lips, so kissable. Anyway, Simon lies that he's proud to have Will up there and to be associated with him. Will, mentally visualizing Simon having his head dunked in a hot deep fryer, thanks him for his comments. Will heads over to Ant and Dec, who hug him and squeeze him and drool over them. They lurrrrve Will. How does Will feel about coming back and being judged again? Will says it's a little strange, but it's good to keep the ego in line by being judged. So I'm really doing him a favor when I say his singing makes me recoil in horror.
Three hundred seventy-five thousand two hundred and seventy-seven commercials. When we return, Ant and Dec are as relieved as I am that they've made it to the final contestant. It's Kurt Nilsen from Norway. Kurt? Is not a pretty man. Some may find him cute in the way that sometimes ugly things can be cute, like manatees. Manatees are cute, even though they're actually ugly. Kurt's a blond, chubby, gap-toothed plumber and father of two. But he has a good singing voice. Actually, he has a dead-on impersonation of Bono going for him. The judges worry about whether his look will affect his ability to sell albums. Apparently not on Norwegian Idol, because Kurt ended up beating out two really, really hot guys to win the title. And he's sold 75,000 whole albums! Wow. That's…not much, actually. But still, he won!
Kurt heads onto the stage in a denim jacket and jeans (Carson Kressley freaks because they're the same style of denim -- a major no-no) and a black shirt. He's going to play to his talent and sing U2's "Beautiful Day." The mimicry is so good that if you turn away from the television, you would almost think it's actually Bono singing. He does sound different in his higher register, so I think he probably can make his own sound. He has a good, strong voice and a lot of personality (what with him not being pretty), and he really gets the audience into his song. And the best part is that he takes a long note at the end and he just holds it, cleanly and perfectly, and doesn't do a damned thing to it. Overall, very, very good (compared to everybody else), but a little too much like an impersonation.
"Backstage," Kelly gives Kurt a "Woooo!" of support. She thinks Kurt might actually win. Back on the stage, Jan from Norway says that they're all proud. He was an underdog in the competition, and he's an underdog here, but he's shown that he has a great voice. Ian says that Kurt is a marketing challenge because he has the voice of an angel, but he looks like a hobbit. And as we all know, hobbits just don't sell these days. Ian jokes that Kurt would totally win if they were holding "Middle Earth Idol." Which they should, if only so that I could vote off those tiresome elves. Pete from England says Kurt showed the best vocal control of all the contestants, and though he's a "dark horse," Pete thinks Kurt's going to get a lot of support. I think our forums have borne out Pete's theory, but we'll just have to see. Simon says that if the contest were on the radio, Kurt would walk away with the competition. But even though Kurt's not pretty, Simon has learned his lesson by now that pretty doesn't mean all that much in this contest (except in South Africa) and he thinks Kurt could possibly win. Kurt heads over to Ant and Dec, who ask Kurt if he thinks this whole "image" thing is important. Well, I'm going to take a wild guess that he doesn't. Let's see. No, he doesn't think that image is all that important. I'm like Kreskin over here. He points out that it's not a modeling competition. Except in South Africa.
After a brief lesson on how to text message votes in (which sounds stupid, but having tried to text messages on [product-placed wireless service], the lesson was probably a good idea), Ant and Dec send on us on a recap of tonight's performances and phone numbers for Alexander, Guy, Ryan, Heinz, Alex, Diana, Peter, Will, and Kurt. And of course, there's Kelly, whom American voters can't call for. Wait, that's only ten performers. Who did I miss? Hmmmm…I can't think of anybody. I guess he mustn't have been that important. And after reminding us that the results show will ruin my first holiday of the new year, Ant and Dec bring the evening to a close.