Previously: Oh, what a summer we had! Simon Cowell was America's malevolent sweetheart. Brian Dunkleman was as America's whipping boy. Robots and clones and gay orcs and Barbie dolls and strippers all fought for our love and votes. In the end, some girl (Kimmy? Kerry? Oh, yeah, Kelly) won and had a hit with a crappy single and is currently in a laboratory, having her soul sucked out and replaced with [product-placed cola].
We open the season with the crowd of folks outside the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, screeching and hooting and practicing their fame-whoring. Speaking of fame-whoring, Ryan "Brass Monkey" Seacrest stands in the center of the crowd in order to open the show for us, and already I'm at a loss for what nickname I'll use for him, if any, now that Brian has been dunked. I considered naming him after a different tool manufacturer like "Craftsman," but that seems sort of played, and, unlike this show, I'm devoted to finding some new shtick this season. So we'll just wait and see.
Ryan greets us and tells us how "very eager" everybody here is, including himself. Especially himself. If you've got a camera, Ryan is very eager to stand near you. These people are all here to audition. Ryan explains to any members of the audience who may be breathtakingly dumb (perhaps some of the contestants watching at home) that American Idol is back. He gets the crowd cheering by asking if the American Idol is in the crowd today.
Credits. Oh, how could they have dismissed Amnesia Sparkle so quickly last season when they've got a transgendered mascot in the credits? How cruel. For those who care, the opening credits appear unchanged from last season.
We return back to Ryan, who tells us about all the cities they had auditions in. They heard more than seventy thousand people. Some were good; many were "jaw-droppingly awful." But we're all here about the awful ones, aren't we? Bring us the awful ones! Even if they're totally fake and the show producers have encouraged, begged, bribed, or even tricked them to make asses of themselves!
Ryan narrates a poorly structured precap of the auditions we'll be seeing in the various cities. In Miami, where six thousand auditioned, we have bad "clones" of Shakira, Mariah, and Enrique. Suddenly we switch gears to an interview with Randy "Knock Three Times" Jackson, who informs us, just as he did last year, that he's looking for people with talent. Thanks, Randy. You are filled with untold wisdom. And Ring Dings.
Then we shift over to Detroit, where another six thousand auditioned; we see more bad contestants. They don't even bother to tease the good ones. Who cares about them? We want a French guy made up to look like an Arabic guy from the silent-film era, singing Elvis! Well, 19 Entertainment got the message and is more than willing to oblige. There's a brief interview with some bitchy rejectee who looks like she had her face waterproofed. Seriously. In an interview, Paula "Why?" Abdul blathers that she is looking for "the contestants who can tap into their own voice inside, not compromise their integrity, and stay true to who they really are." Until they win, of course. Then they'll be expected to sing whatever crap their management gets its hands on and allow themselves to be pimped out in shitty, doomed movies. Oh, and "[sic]."
We shift over to Nashville, where we see more bad clips from among their five thousand auditions. No sign of our lovely steptacular, nor our new mascot, Matt Yoder, as yet. Although this Beaver Guy might end up taking his place. Churn that butter, Beaver Guy! In Atlanta, six and a half thousand auditioned. We finally get some clips of moderately good female singers, probably because they have exposed torsos. It's also an attempt at "contrast" with Keith, who I am declaring right here and now as my boyfriend. His Dutch-boy haircut, pudgy body, oversized green sweater, nasal vibrato, and rhythmless writhing is a combination I just can't resist. I, too, feel like I've been touched for the very first time. In an interview, Simon "The Thrill Is Gone" Cowell warns us that he's going to be even tougher this season, and says he was "biting his tongue" sometimes last season. Yeah, except replace "biting his tongue" with "unable think of any new clever insults."
In Austin, where six thousand auditioned, we get more wackiness in the form of kung-fu and munchkin impressions. Obviously, these aren't the "real" auditions we're looking at. Not that they'll ever, ever tell us that they asked the kids to goof around on camera. Oh, and a guy shows up dressed like a wizard. His eyes are downcast, like he knows he's embarrassing himself, but doesn't have any choice in the matter. Maybe he lost a bet or something. In Los Angeles, eleven thousand auditioned. More bad clips. More bad attitude.
Then we get some clips of the judges saying mean things to the bad contestants. The best they could come up with for Paula is her telling somebody, "I'm sorry, honey, but did you know you sing flat?" But now the bad contestants get their say, too, like they didn't at all last season. However, they hadn't thought of marketing tie-ins last year. Now, they've got a confessional, just like every damned reality show under the sun. Except most reality-show confessionals aren't festooned with [product-placed car] logos. This one is. The confessional serves as the rejected contestants' last chance to say or do something either clever or humiliating to get on television. We see brief shots of folks with attitude, and some stoned guy who just sits there with his eyes closed for several seconds. Suddenly he opens them, and just declares, "Yeah." Sadly, he doesn't burst into "Si-yuh-lent Night."
And then there's Kristin "Going Down" Holt. You remember Kristin, don't you? She fell under the table. They show the clip again. Ha ha ha! Of course, they don't show the awful rendition of "Fallin'" that failed to inspire anybody into voting her into the final ten last season. Anyway, she's back as a "correspondent." This essentially means that she goes around and hugs people and pretends to understand what the crazy rejectees are talking about. She's a lot less annoying now that she's not actually competing. She doesn't, however, have enough personality for a larger role, so I hope they don't upgrade her to co-host. Heh -- when Kristin introduces herself to contestants, she has to explain that she's the one who fell so that they know who she is. Well, at least she has a sense of humor about it.
Now it's time to remind us how successful last season was. Kelly "Where Did Our Love Go?" Clarkson (Eeeeeeee!) won, had a crappy hit single, and then disappeared from the face of the earth to film a crap-ass movie with Justin "Hair" Guarini that's inevitably going to show up on several film critics' "Worst of 2003" lists. Ryan's voice-over insists that Kelly and Justin are enjoying a life of "fame and fortune." This clip is so going to be used on the VH1 Behind the Music special in three years when Kelly (Eeeeeeee!) explains to us how she didn't see one red cent from her contract and cried herself to sleep from the stress every single night.
In New York, another nine thousand auditioned. They dance and goof around for the cameras. One girl sings "Mary Had A Little Lamb" without opening her mouth. Take it to Thirty Seconds of Fame, please. As we cut away to the first commercial break, somebody sings badly. Simon cranks up the hyperbole machine. Some boi calls the judges "horrible." Paula and Simon fight. Simon wins. Of course.
Commercials. Nothing marks you as "real" like drinking the sugar-laden, carbonated, insanely ubiquitous soft drink produced by an international conglomerate worth trillions of dollars.
We return to New York, where Ryan looks more monkeyish than ever. And a bit gaunt. He hams for the camera, telling us that he saw talent all over the city. But will there be any in the auditions?
No. At least, not until the show decides to show us talented performers. But since these episodes are all about the yucky ones, we'll dwell on them. Some guy butchers "I Still Believe." Simon tells the guy that if he had lived two thousand years ago, people would have stoned him. Maybe, but they were always finding silly reasons to stone people two thousand years ago. It's not like he would be a special case. A woman with an awful butch haircut wears an ugly evening gown and butchers a song I don't even recognize. Some guy is the first of many to give a song the "DiMarcos Brothers" treatment by adding embarrassingly literal choreography to Pink's "Don't Let Me Get Me." When Simon dismisses him, he says, "You know what? At least I'm from a country where people brush their teeth twice a day." That could possibly be funny if: one, the guy didn't suck; two, Simon didn't have teeth so white that they nearly glow in the dark; and three, if I didn't regularly see Americans with awful teeth. No, I don't think it would have been funny then, either.
Now that we've had so many bad performers, they decide to at least show us what they think is good. We cut to the waiting area, where a set of twin sisters are dancing together in front of a rhythmically clapping crowd. Oh my god, personal space, personal space! I've got the tape paused, and one of the sisters is grinding her hip into the thigh of the other sister. At least they're wearing clothes, unlike another set of twins I could mention. And of course, they're both wearing the same black, flared pantsuit. I mean, each is wearing her own pantsuit. They aren't crowded together in one. Their names are Rhian and Cara Morgan, 17. They let the girls audition together. They sing "Fallin'" together and harmonize with each other. They have pretty good voices, but it's all kind of creepy. After they're done, Simon jokes that since they both sing the same, they only need one of them, and asks them to pick which one gets to move on. They both want to go, of course. Randy marvels that they both sing in "unison." What the hell is so amazing about that? It was a duet. Non-twins have them, too. They don't require those special twin psychic powers or whatever. After some more joking about only letting one through, they invite both girls to Hollywood. They rush out and hug Kristin. Then they hug each other.
But now to the bad people. Meet Nathaniel Golden Jr., a scary, strangely pudgy boy, whose shirt is covered with safety pins. He has also ripped open one of the legs of his pants, like Kylie Minogue's back-up dancers in "Can't Get You Out Of My Head." Have you ever noticed the parade of ridiculous outfits those guys are forced into? I wish I could see the looks on their faces when they're first shown what they're going to wear. Nate explains to Ryan that he did this to look different and original, and he thinks he succeeded. Except that I've seen both of those styles before. And you look silly, not original. Ryan thinks he looks silly, too, but doesn't really say so. The pants are ripped all the way up to the waist. Ryan asks what exactly one wears underneath such an outfit. Nate tells him he's wearing a thong. Ryan deadpans, "A thong? Good. I feel comfortable." Yes, I'm sure you're very comfortable around guys in thongs. You're probably wearing your own thong. Also, we can see your nipples again! Jeez.
You know, it would have been absolutely hysterical if Nathaniel were a brilliant singer. Because what would they do? But no. He's dreadful. There's utter silence when he stops. Simon tries to think up a new insult as Randy starts giggling. Simon tells him he's heard better people singing outside of subway stations. Well, I've heard better insults outside of subway stations, too. Especially if you make the mistake of getting in the way of somebody running down the escalator. Nate responds, in his creepy feminine voice, that he worked very hard. Simon points out that the subway singers do, too. Nate points out that he was waiting outside in the cold. Simon points out that the subway performers do, too. Hee. Nate's just not going to win this exchange. Randy and Paula agree with Simon's assessment. Without a depantsed leg to stand on, Nate resorts to the hissyfit, pointing out that they can't sing either and telling him that they didn't have to "bring [him] down" and blah blah blah. He does the full complement of Angry Sista hand gestures: The One-Handed Insult Wipe-Away; The Two-Handed Criticism Deflector Shield; and The Hula Gesture Of Whatever, Bitch. He concludes that they're just trying to make him cry, and leaves in a big diva flourish. Everybody cracks up when he's gone. You can even hear the cameramen laughing.
We cut back to the [product-placed car] confessional to hear some more attitude from rejectees. One girl who looks like Kelly Osbourne cries because the judges said that she looks like Kelly Osbourne. Some guy with a green teddy bear complains that he and his teddy were robbed, even though he named his teddy after Simon. See, even when you suck, you've gotta have a gimmick.
Commercials. Married by America. Frankly, I'm hoping for Divorced by America, where we force those awful couples that refuse to recognize that it's over and make everybody around them miserable to just split up already.
When we return, Ryan introduces us to two young women, one brunette, one blonde, who separately dated the same guy. The brunette dated him two years ago. The blonde is dating him now. They're allegedly friends now, though the brunette claims that the blonde hated her for a while. Blonde denies it. Ryan tries to start a catfight with the women over whether or not they're auditioning to spite each other, but fails. He's totally making shit up to try to get them mad. They don't fall for it.
Kristen Barbera, 20, the blonde, is first to audition. She sings "Crazy" and has practiced at the Alexandra Bachelier Heaving Your Cleavage And Gasping For Breath After Every Three Words School Of Musical Performance. I think her singing's mediocre, but the judges all praise her "good voice." I think that's really code for "good breasts." Anyway, she's invited to Hollywood.
Janine Falsone, 21, the brunette, is second. She sings "At Last" and has a stronger voice than Kristen, but then she forgets the lyrics. Uh, oops. She recovers and finishes solidly. Simon says that she's good, but admits that he's bored. Paula starts and insult that goes, "Oh my God, I could be naked in front of you…" and then, for once, she realizes that all she's dong here is leaving herself open for a very nasty comeback and tries to switch gears to bring in everybody else in the room doing the hula naked, but it's too late. Simon shoots back, "I would agree with you. If you stood naked in front of me, I wouldn't be excited." Paula rolls her eyes. At least she seems to have developed the intelligence to know when she's stepped in it this season. Now if she could just do something about that blouse, which somehow manages to have both zebra stripes and a floral pattern. Yikes. Anyway, despite the slip-up, they all like Janine's voice and invite her to Hollywood.
Outside, Ryan tries to start another catfight by telling Janine that Kristen was disappointed when Janine was invited along to Hollywood as well. Janine realizes that Ryan's the one trying to start the conflict, and gives him a little shove.
But enough of the staged conflict. Let's have some more staged bad auditions! Some guy sings an O-Town song badly. Yeah, we're all shocked. No, it's not actually one of the guys in O-Town. It could have been, though. They all tell him he's awful. Simon hyperbolizes that if this guy won, and he recorded a song, it would "destroy the music industry." If "The Macarena" didn't kill the industry, nothing can. Industries aren't that easy to kill. I mean, Judd Winick hasn't killed the comic book industry. Yet. Simon declares that this guy could be the worst singer in New York. The guy disagrees. Simon challenges the guy to come back the evening with somebody who's an even worse singer. The guy says he will.
Cut to streetside, where Simon's challenge has inspired a little skit. Ryan stands with the guy, who's named Christopher, as they try to find a worse singer. They go and bug some guy on a street corner. Christopher sings a verse of the O-Town song. The guy sings it back fifty times better. I wonder if it wasn't one of the other contestants. They find some middle-aged guy in some shop somewhere. He's no better than Christopher, but we all just have to pretend that he is, because otherwise the skit doesn't work. Some guy sings opera on a street corner.
Back at the auditions, a hairdresser named Julia Demato, 23, a hairdresser from Connecticut, has the lyrics written on her hand just in case. But she's fine during the auditions, and sings "Unbreak My Heart" with a pleasant voice that sounds a little husky but has a good range. They all love her and invite her to Hollywood. She starts to cry at the good news. Uncry those tears, babe. They did say that they loved you. Also, time? Unwear those leather pants. They're not you.
Elsewhere, Christopher sings badly on a street corner, milking his tiny moment of fame for all it's worth. The cameraman starts walking backward, and Ryan slinks away, leaving us to pretend that they've abandoned Christopher there.
Commercials. A horror movie about the tooth fairy? The hell? Seriously -- the hell?
up is Danny Rodriguez, 21. With his slicked-back hair, shell necklace, and unbuttoned black shirt and white undershirt, he looks like a total frat boy Chipster. He sings "Fly Me To The Moon" Sinatra-style, with the head bouncing and finger snapping. He's not too bad, but I'm currently reading Live From New York, and while Danny's singing, I can hear Joe Piscopo's voice in my head saying, "Frank would never wear that necklace." The judges all love him and invite him to Hollywood. He celebrates Chipster-style with the hand gestures and the "yeah, baby"s and waving his invite at the camera.
up is a young woman who I am sure just must be a comedian just having some fun, and trying to get clips or practice a character she invented. Her name is Cynthia Priester, 22. She's wearing a denim skirt and knee socks, a white shirt, a powder blue sweater with only the middle button fastened, and a tie. She's got glitter on her cheeks and eyelids. And her hair is in cornrows. And she's really, really hyper-excited and says that she's so thrilled to meet all of them. Especially Simon. She auditioned so that she could meet Simon. She insists that she's a great singer. Of course, she's awful. Of course. She sings "Don't Let Me Get Me." She forgets the words. Simon tells her she's awful. She says she knows, but she can do better if they give her another chance. They insist that she can't sing. She wants another chance. Simon says, "There's only so much punishment one person can take." Cynthia says, "No, I can take a lot more!" Everybody starts laughing as Simon explains that he meant himself. Anyway, no trip to Hollywood for Cynthia. But I'm sure she'll put this clip on her web site to promote her off-off-off-off-Broadway one-woman show.
More bad auditions. Some guy claps and dances. Some guy with a rather creepy resemblance to James Van Der Beek butchers "I Can't Help Myself." Simon whines about how depressing it is to hear all these bad singers. Well, that's what you get for letting all the worst ones through to begin with. You wanted the ratings, and you got them. Your ears are crying all the way to the bank. Or something. That didn't make sense. Shut up. Anyway, in a cheesy, staged scene, the judges head out to the holding area to try to inspire the contestants to sing better, as if this means anything at all. Pretty much the only ones coming through at this point are either locks on Hollywood or those with absolutely no chance. Randy asks them all if they really want it. They wooooo their insistence that they really want it.
up is Tirrell Anthony, who claims to be 23. Those two digits are probably reversed. He's a thin, spindly, poorly dressed guy with a giant forehead and an ugly little soul patch. He sings "Just Once," and his voice is meh. He's not awful. He's not great. He's meh. He's wearing a tan sweater with brown elbow patches. He's like a living definition of "meh." Paula thinks he has a great voice. Randy doesn't think there's anything special about him. Tirrell reacts with surprise. He says "Mr. Luther Vandross himself" has praised Tirrell's talent. Riiiight. Did you have a slice of pie in your hand while you were singing? He'd probably tell you anything if there's a chance he'd get a slice of pie. Or is Luther skinny again?
Simon says he likes Tirrell's voice, but doesn't like the way he looks. Tirrell again reacts with total disbelief. Why, Mr. Blackwell himself told him his style was simply divine! Simon says that he doesn't think any record label would be falling all over itself to sign Tirrell just from the way he looked. Tirrell is just utterly astounded that nobody in the room has fallen to the floor to lick his toes, the way that Miss Patti Labelle did when she heard him sing. Simon asks Tirrell outright if any labels are offering deals. He says they are. I smell the return of Hubris Records. Simon declares bullshit over the whole thing -- he actually says it, too, but it's bleeped out. I mean, really, what the hell is he doing here if there are labels interested in him? Simon repeats that Tirrell has a good voice but a bad image. Paula points out that image can be changed. Simon asks Paula if she would invest "one or two million dollars" of the money she's made (yeah, right) in somebody like Tirrell. She says yes, but adds that at the end of the day, Simon's label is the one actually making the offer. Simon interrupts to point out that she's offering Tirrell a deal now. Heh. I don't think Paula's going to be signing Tirrell. Randy votes no. Paula votes yes. Simon decides to go ahead and vote yes, because he does think that Tirrell has a good voice. However, he wanted to make a point about image. Tirrell thanks them all and leaves, no doubt to have dinner with Babyface and LL Cool J to tell them all what bastards Simon and Randy are.
As Tirrell heads off, Ryan's voice-over blathers on some more about the whole image issue. This is our transition to Frenchie Davis, 23, a large African-American woman with tightly cropped blonde hair, and, in all honesty, the largest breasts I've ever seen on a woman who wasn't in the adult industry in some fashion. She sits in the [product-placed car] confessional wearing a yellow v-necked shirt that is open down to down to her cleavage, and probably not by choice. I mean, I'm not sure her figure would even allow her to wear something like a turtleneck. She's also got a red feathery flower around her neck. She tells the confessional that she's really nervous. She talks to Ryan out in the holding area. It turns out that her friends encouraged her to audition, and even had a pledge drive at her college to pay for her to come out. That's how you know you've got a good singer on your hands. I mean, your friends might egg you on just to see you make a fool of yourself if you're bad, but they aren't going to actually fund a trip.
So Frenchie heads into audition with "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going." She's really, really loud. She's good, but loud. She actually reminds me of Melanie Sanders from last season more than Tamyra. Melanie wasn't bad, but suffered from the inevitable comparison when she and Tamyra sang the same song. And she's really not going. She's not. She's staying. And you're going to love her. Don't even think otherwise. Paula mimes getting goose bumps from Frenchie's performance. I think she's got great energy and tone, but if we're going to go with the inevitable comparison, I think Tamyra had more mature technique and clarity. The judges applaud. Randy and Paula give her a standing O. Nobody comments about her size. Simon doesn't really say anything to her at all. I think he's just going to let her through all the way to the final thirty-two, then if she doesn't make it from there, he can turn around and say "I told you so" to the others about the whole weight issue. So Frenchie goes to Hollywood. She calls her mom outside and gives her the good news.
Ryan voices over that they picked thirty-four people to go to Hollywood. We see flashes of faces of these people who didn't have interesting stories and will likely disappear without a trace week. up: Miami!
Commercials. When we return, Ryan stands on the beach and says that this is where he belongs. They must be on South Beach. He says, "In the words of my good friend, Will Smith, 'Welcome to Miami.'" Will's all, "Whatever, dude. I only hung with you because Tirrell told me you were cool. That Tirrell is the bomb! I can't believe Randy didn't like him."
We get a clip show of Miami, and the thousands people camped out in the long lines for the auditions. Some large guy says he wants to be an American Idol in order to prove that it's all about talent, not looks. You know he can't sing, but whenever he's told that, he's convinced himself that they're just saying that because he's fat. The clip show continues with shots of the judges having their make-up put on. Ryan teases Simon that the bags under his eyes have gone down. Simon shoots back an insult that, unfortunately, neither I nor the captioner can decipher. It made Randy laugh, though.
Enough of that crap -- more bad singers! Here you go. There's a guy who must be singing that badly on purpose. You actually have to try to sing this badly. Like if you just started singing something and didn't even really think about being in tune or anything, it would still sound better than him. There's a woman who's like a human vibrato. She puts Christina and Will Young to shame. She sounds like she's trying to sing while operating a jackhammer. Some guy dressed like a fake gang member butchers the national anthem.
up is Terra Daddona, 22, who has attempted in every way to look as much as Mariah Carey as possible. She even managed to get a picture with her idol, and brings it into the audition to show the judges. She tells Randy that Mariah was talking about him, telling her how great he was. So is Terra as good a singer as Mariah? Well, maybe. But only if Mariah is trying to sing while, at the same time, dying of a gaping stomach wound. And even then, I don't think Mariah's voice would break so frequently. Her rendition of "Against All Odds" can inspire so many nasty lyric-related comebacks that I'm not even going to bother. After she's done, Randy calls on Paula to go first. Paula doesn't know what to say. Paula can really only be mean if somebody else is mean first. Have you noticed that? She's such a joiner. Simon tells Terra that the only resemblance between Mariah and her is their matching hair. Well, there's also the fact that they're both crazy. Terra insists that she really does sing great normally. She was great in her vocal lessons. Oh, we're not going there again, are we? Randy and Simon tell Terra she needs to chew her vocal teacher out and demand a refund. She's not going to Hollywood. Out in the hall, Terra tells Ryan that the judges are jerks and she really can sing.
up is Heidi Hall, 17, who is here with her mom. In an interview with Kristin, Heidi explains that her mom slept out on the boardwalk to reserve her spot and let Heidi sleep in their hotel room. Man, she better make it, or else she won't hear the end of it on the trip back home. Heidi heads into the audition wearing a one-sleeved black blouse that bares her torso, and red jeans. She says she's going to sing "When I Fall In Love." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Sorry. Jim Verraros flashback. Let me just take my pills and everything will be fine. Actually, Heidi's more reminiscent of Ryan Starr. She's got a deep, husky voice that serves the song well. I think she's got more of a range though. When she's done, Simon praises her voice, saying, "It's very interesting thing, Heidi, seeing you, because you're a great-looking girl, you're seventeen, and there's an interesting thing going on here at the moment…" Hey, did you hear that R. Kelly got arrested again on child porn charges? I'm not sure why I just thought of that. Oh, apparently he's going off on some tangent about how Christina Aguilera has made the decision to look like "a complete slut," but Heidi isn't. I hadn't realized that midriff-baring sleeveless shirts and painted-on jeans had become the new Catholic schoolgirl uniform. They all like Heidi and think the tide's going to turn and everybody's going to try to stop trying to be all nasty and dirty. Well, yes. Now we're all beautiful, no matter what they say, and we have Mohawks and break our mirrors and have same-sex kisses in public. Actually, I kind of like that video. I'm not fired, am I? Anyway, Heidi and her innocent good-girl torso are invited to Hollywood.
we meet Natalie Galan, 16, and her hot mom. Simon even comments on the mom when she comes in to audition, so the judges must be schmoozing more than we've led to believe. Natalie sings "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan. She's nice. She doesn't really wow me. She's better than Tirrell, but nothing truly special. The judges all like her voice, though. But for some reason, Paula doesn't think that Nataile's "ready" and votes no. She's overruled by Simon and Randy, though, and Natalie's invited to the round. She cries outside and gets a hug from her hot mom.
We get a montage of women getting invited. The show seems to be treating the fact that the girls are outsinging the boys as somehow unusual. Where were they last season? This has always been the case. We see more girls celebrating in order to ratchet up our expectations when we meet Sean Campos, 21 (though his birthday is the following day). Sean aspires to be the first Asian-American R&B star. He sings "Let's Stay Together." I think. It's not one of the more recognizable parts of the song, so I might have it confused with another one. Anyway, he warbles a bit too much for my tastes and doesn't seem to hit any of the notes solidly. The judges like his voice, though Randy and Simon don't think that he's an R&B type of singer. Randy calls it Broadway-style singing. It was a little loud and overenunciated. But they invite him to Hollywood anyway.
Sean heads out into the hall and meets a brother/friend/lover/random guy, who celebrates with him with a chest bump. Ryan asks if he can have a chest bump, too. No, really. He does. Sean obliges because, I mean, what else could he do? Then Ryan runs over to the brother/friend/lover/random guy and chest-bumps him, too. Ryan's either off his meds or on his crack. Then Ryan asks them if they do kung-fu as well. What? Yeah, and then they pull their eyes back with their fingers until they look like slits and talk in broken English about dry-cleaning. Asshole. Sadly, Sean obliges, rather than smacking the crap out of Ryan. And then they chest-bump us off into the commercials.
Do they even realize that the title for Final Destination 2 doesn't make any sense now because no plane is involved?
When we return, it's time to meet Edgar Nova, 24. I swear, Edgar reminds me of one of the guys who writes and occasionally performs in skits for Late Night with Conan O'Brien. You know that guy who does the sports fan with the really, really long cheers? Imagine a bad bowl-cut wig on him, and that's Edgar. His face is all shiny, and he's wearing a black tee and slacks. He tells the judges that he's been dreaming about this since before he was born. Even if they hadn't shown him at the beginning of the episode, there's no way that anybody could not know that he sucks. I think the judges already know. It's like they're girding themselves for his "singing." They've been informed that Edgar does impressions. He says he has an Al Pacino impression. They ask him to say something as Pacino. He obliges. He sounds almost, but not entirely, unlike Al Pacino. In fact, he sounds just like himself, except adding "okay" to the end of every sentence.
What on earth could I possibly say to do justice to Edgar's singing? He shrieks Enrique Iglesias's "Escape." There really isn't another verb to describe it. He's shrieking the song. And he rubs his hands and shuffles around awkwardly and acts like he's crying. He's very creepy. He ends the song on his knees. Some folks on the forums have worried that this guy is actually mentally ill and the show is taking advantage of him. I can see where somebody could get that idea. If I saw somebody behaving like this in public, I would back away slowly, and walk in the other direction.
This is one of those situations where the judges can't even formulate a response. Finally, Randy suggests that Edgar not sing again, ever. Edgar politely disagrees. Paula, ever the diplomatic one, tells Edgar that it's obvious how committed he is. She repeats the word "committed" so many times that it makes you wonder if she isn't trying to send out a subtle hint to any nearby security guards. When Randy suggests that Simon chime in, Edgar declares that Simon has been his inspiration for all of this. Was he perhaps trying to kill Simon with a sonic attack or something? Simon resorts to his typical insult of telling Edgar that he's the worst singer he's ever heard. It loses impact if you use it fifty times a day, dude. Come on, Simon -- you're supposed to be carrying the ball on television for us snarkers. Get in the game! Edgar is not offended and still loves them all and rambles incoherently for a few seconds. The judges thank him for his time and send him away.
After he leaves the room, delusional Edgar tells everybody he's going to L.A. I can't tell whether or not this is all fake. I want to believe it is, because we see him talking to people off-camera that we never see, so it could all be staged. But I can't be sure.
More bad auditions. Some girl comes in and just does some vocal exercises, and not very well. Then she butchers "Save The Best For Last." They're glad to hear that the girl is going to pharmacy school. Randy snarks that he may need some medication.
up is Bechir Sylvain, 21. He beatboxes and dances along with his own performance. I have an irrational hatred of beatboxing. Wait, can a hatred of beatboxing ever be irrational? Finally he does some actual singing, and his voice is okay, but not exactly on key. Randy says that he likes Bechir's dancing and beatboxing, but not his singing. Simon disagrees with Randy and tells him that not everybody they put through is going to be because of his or her singing skills. Well, you're not disagreeing with him, then, are you? Simon likes the rest that Bechir has to offer and thinks it could make him a good pop star. Somehow, the judges all manage to have an argument about something they all agree on: Bechir is a good performer, but not a good vocalist. Paula seems to think Bechir was on key, but Randy just dismisses her out of hand. I don't even really understand what the argument is about. They agree on all the "facts," but can't seem to agree on the conclusion -- whether or not Bechir should go to Hollywood. Eventually, Randy makes a comment that many of today's pop stars aren't really good singers. Wow, more words of wisdom from our modern Socrates. Simon asks for a vote. Randy votes no; Paula votes yes; Simon votes yes.
Outside, Edgar has returned. He is either delusional and trying to trick the staff into believing that the judges have asked him back, or this is all staged. You be the judge. Anyway, he's unsuccessful, and some PAs tell him that he's not invited back. A security guard escorts Edgar out. He promises that he'll see us in Hollywood. Along with that crazy cheese lady from last season. She hasn't forgotten, you know. She's just biding her time. Good cheese has to age a while. Anyway, the judges invited twenty from Miami on to the round.
Commercials. We return to Austin, Texas, home to a thriving independent music scene and the huge South by Southwest festival. Er, not that the show actually says anything about that, because those people? Are not going to be showing up for this nonsense. Instead we get more clips of fame whores waiting their turns and a lengthy voice-over from Ryan about the "bull-riding, hog-tying, steer-rustling men of iron" who tamed the rugged land with their bare hands. I can't make this shit up, people. Ryan is drooling over manly men in his voice-over. And now I miss Jayne. Sniff.
Oh, this was all a sad attempt at an ironic (and not-so-subtly homophobic (You are watching FOX!)) segue to some of the flamier contestants in Austin. A guy with an animal print shirt and leather pants butchers "Celebration." A creepy, nasal boy (I probably need to macro that; there's so many) mangles "I Can't Help Myself." Another Van Der Beek look-alike (and what's up with that?) shrieks out "ABC." Another boy, who sounds like one of the Chipmunks with a cold, sings an unrecognizable song directly out of his sinus cavities.
up is Dana Clark, 23, and her posse. She brought twenty-seven members of her family, with signs, to attend her audition. I don't think there are even twenty-seven people alive who are related to me. She heads into the auditions wearing a lacy, see-through, belly-baring black blouse and jeans. She sings "Let's Stay Together." She has vibrato problems and really sort of loses the key about halfway through. Simon votes no. The other two vote yes. There's no discussion or argument or anything, but she's invited to Hollywood. She runs out, and her family starts screaming and everything. I hope they don't think the show is going to pay for all of them to go to Hollywood with her.
we have Coffey, pronounced as though it rhymes with Jackée, and whatever happened to her, anyway? She was sassy. ["After Sister, Sister got sacked, she showed up on To Tell The Truth. Now you can all sleep at night." -- Sars] Coffey is here auditioning for the show, even though his wife is scheduled to give birth to their child today. Coffey is wearing a full black suit, with a vest and everything. I'm afraid he might give a sermon as his audition. Ryan asks Coffey about leaving his wife for the auditions. Coffey says that his wife insisted he go audition. Yeah, I'd like to hear that from directly from her. Or possibly she decided that she could hold it over his head for the rest of his life. "Honey, I'm tired. I don't want to clean the gutters." "Yeah, well, who let you go audition for some crap-ass talent show while she was tied to a gurney passing a watermelon out through a straw? Huh? Who?" Ryan worries that he'll miss the birth of his child. Coffey insists that he'll catch it, because the wife is only two hours away. Then he turns directly to the camera and says, "Only fifty minutes away in my [product-placed sports car]." No, really. He did. I wonder if they slipped him some cash for that one.
But before we see Coffey perform, we've got Kimberly Caldwell, 20, who is white-trashy, but in a likeable way, with her fringed blouse, denim miniskirt, and black boots. She sings "Superstitious" and has a nice solid whiskey voice. A hard-up cameraman pans all the way down her body while she's singing. Dude, just buy a magazine. She's invited to Hollywood. She runs out and hugs her white-trashy, but in a likeable way, friends.
After a brief clip show of people wearing ridiculous clothes, make-up, and hair in order to attract attention, we cut to the guy who went to auditions dressed up like a wizard. Sadly, we do not see him sing. Then we see a girl wearing an outfit that incorporates Christmas lights. She totally got that idea from Mary Cherry on Popular when she auditioned for a parody of Popstars. We don't stick around long enough to see if she sings "Rock Me, Amadeus."
we have Cedric Hunt, 18, who is dressed like a midget pimp. But that RDC Challenge was from two years ago. We're way past that now. Anyway, Cedric is wearing a yellow and black pimp suit. He's quite the hot banana. His singing, however, isn't that great. He's not as bad as some of the others, but it's still not quite good enough. He sings "Reach Out," and finally Simon gets him to stop, threatening to reach out with a hook. Randy likes the suit, but not the singing. Simon is shocked that Randy even likes the suit. Dude, it's pimptacular! Cedric argues with Simon, but the answer is ultimately no: "Not even for Bulgarian Idol." What did the Bulgarians ever do to Simon to be dissed so? There will be no singing pimps in Hollywood. Well, not in the competition, I mean.
Out in the hall, Ryan asks Cedric how he's feeling about it all. Cedric's not happy. He came all the way down from Kansas and doesn't know how he's getting back. A tear rolls down his cheek. Poor Cedric. No friends to turn to, no family to lean on, no money to get home, and worst of all, no bitches to smack up.
Commercials. We return for Coffey's audition. The judges have been apprised of Coffey's family situation. Simon looks like he couldn't care less about Coffey's family affairs, even if the wife were actually giving birth right there in front of them. Coffey sings "Lately." He does this weird warbling thing where he changes the vowels in the middle of the song: "I'm a man of many wish-ehhh-yaay-esss. Hope my premonition missss-aaaay-esss." Even E-Jay stuck with one vowel when he was going up and down the scale. Coffey warbles every single held note. It is obvious that he's utterly incapable of holding a note steady. Simon thought his performance was merely okay and not good enough for Hollywood. Randy and Paula liked him, though, so he's off to Hollywood. Well, actually, off to the hospital. But then to Hollywood. Randy and Paula argue that Coffey should name the baby after them. Simon says he should name the baby "Lucky." Simon won't even look at Coffey. I would hazard a guess that somebody behind the scenes made the executive decision that Coffey would be going to Hollywood because of his "story," and Simon's not happy about it. As he leaves, Coffey snarks that it was nice to meet two of them.
As Coffey rushes off in his [product-placed penismobile], we're introduced to Jacob Smalley, 19, who gives the camera a lopsided smirk that causes me to loathe him at first sight. He thinks he's got the (Eeeeeeee!). He doesn't. He doesn't know (Eeeeeeee!). He's never even seen (Eeeeeeee!). He performs "If I Ever Fall In Love Again." His voice isn't bad, but he has no real charisma. He flails his arms around. He couldn't eye-fuck if his life depended on it. He's got a nice smile, but that's it. But a nice smile is enough for Paula. She's smitten. She all but drools when she declares he's got the "X Factor." Everybody loves him, and he's invited to Hollywood. Out in the hall, he brags to Kristin about making eye contact with Paula. Whatever. He doesn't have the (Eeeeeeee!). It's not happening. Kristin has him smile into the camera again so we can all see for certain that there's not even a trace of (Eeeeeeee!) there. There isn't.
up is Katherine Edmonson, 19, from Texas, who auditions with "Fever." I know some forum dwellers may get upset with me, but I really don't like her singing. Her voice is incredibly thin and small. It works well with this song, which calls for a sort of sing-speaking delivery, but I suspect we'll discover that she's totally incapable of singing music that requires more energy or vocal strength. And she does all this cheesy posing while she's singing. And she snaps along with her singing. And she's wearing a big-ass flower around her neck. I think she did okay with this song, but I would probably get annoyed with her voice really quickly. Sorry. The judges think her voice is "interesting," and I'm wondering whether they mean in a good or bad way. They mean in a good way. Simon compares her to Doris Day, which Katherine takes as a big compliment. She says she grew up listening to her. Simon and Paula decide that they like her "unique sound" and invite her to Hollywood. Paula does tell her to drop the theatrics, thank god. Good advice coming from Paula. The world truly has gone mad. Randy says he was going to say no because he doesn't see her voice fitting in well with today's pop, but he relents.
There's still time to fit in more bad auditions, right? Good. We wouldn't want to miss out the bad. up is Patsy Charles, 21, who sings "Unchained Melody" very, very, very slowly. Very slowly. The film editors, who have clearly been reading Miss Alli's Amazing Racerecaps, entertain us by splicing in sped-up images of the sun setting, seasons changing, and a baby yawning. Is that supposed to be Coffey's baby? They finally get Patsy to stop. Randy says that was "on par to be the longest song in history." Simon snarks that Patsy couldn't make an album because there'd only be enough room for one song. She's not invited to Hollywood, because they've only rented the auditorium for a couple of days.
In the end, they found thirty-six candidates in Austin. But if you haven't your fill of bad auditions, we'll be having a ton more in the episode (or recap -- whatever), as they head to Los Angeles and Detroit.
And in conclusion, we see a shot of Coffey in the hospital with his newborn daughter. This is sponsored by our ubiquitous [product-placed cola]. I wish I were kidding when I told you all that the company's giant red logo is up there on the screen as he shows us his newborn child, but I'm not. Cola sponsored Coffey's baby. If you care, they named the baby Savannah. At least he didn't name her Sprite.