Tuesday
Ryan's wearing a light gray jacket, but it's not noticeable. Ryan's not really noticeable tonight, somehow. That takes a lot, frankly, and I'm glad the stylists are working on it, because God forbid his star quality overshadow the likes of Carrie Underwood and Scott Fucking Savol. He makes a weird proto-"Call Me" and then there's Heather Locklear all of a sudden.
If you don't know the story of Heather Locklear, you must be very young. In a nutshell: On the seventh day, Aaron Spelling took the night off, and then on the eighth day he suddenly wasn't God anymore, so he created Heather Locklear, and on the ninth day, lo but there was a crazy amount of Nielsens happening, and lather rinse repeat for seven decades of TV magic. Heather Locklear is the first through fifteenth comings of TV salvation and she deserves it every time, because forsooth, she is rockin' awesome and smokin' hot. Still!
I've seen every episode of LAX like twice and let me tell you that she's hotter than the hot British guy, hotter than Blair Underwood, hotter than the brunette Alicia Silverstone girl they've got; she's hotter than anything on this planet or off, and she's at this point technically thousands of years old as humans measure time, and she manages to become hotter every year. There is not a situation in this world that cannot be improved by the judicious application of Heather Locklear. I want a "WWHLD" bracelet. Well, actually what I really want is a "WWAWD" bracelet, because if Heather Locklear is the best humanity can do, then Amanda Woodward is the best that Heather Locklear can do, and that'spretty much better than best.
Can you tell I don't want to talk about this week's Idol episodes? I had to face some troubling shit about myself this week. And it was Idol-related. Think about that, please. Stare into that abyss with me for a sec.
So let's go. Beauty in the breakdown, et cetera. Ryan cracks a joke about how Anwar has been eliminated, buttoned up his shirt, and now teaches little children to do "ten-minute high notes in impossibly tight pants." Which, wrong juxtaposition, Mr. Creepy, but yeah, that's what I remember too. I just hope they don't all end up singing all nasally up their nasal, like a generation of it, because that's kind of Tomorrow People to have to deal with. Also, Randy is wearing some very flattering pink and Paula is wearing some very comedic leopard and the judges all dap each other and it's quite realistic and street.
“ Carrie's hair? Looks INSANE. There are curls, there is straightness, there is bounce and non-bounce and places where little elves and tiny werewolves set up shop and are selling dreamcatchers, all in the Farmer's Market of her crazy, crazy hair. ”
Fake time travel back to fake Wednesday, where Ryan points out there are only two "girls" left, and then everybody claps and everybody seems like a creepy robot, and then Ryan forces A-Fed to assume his masculine Idol power in a very, um, "respect the cruller, tame the doughnut" kind of way, and then asks some of the less interesting Idols what they were up to on New Year's, '00. To which the answer is clearly going to be, "Being born," with the exception of Bo, who has to say, "Finally letting go of the whole Mondale thing," because he's crazy old, okay, and Scott and Constantine both make arraignment faces, but then A-Fed goes all, "What happens in Pennsylvania stays in Pennsylvania," like that's this amazingly filthy turn of phrase, because he was fourteen and things got crazy on the millennium for him. And that's sad and funny in so many ways that I don't want to spoil it for anybody, but I will make a list, which includes some concepts: Anthony Fedorov, at the age of fourteen, getting wild, in Pennsylvania. And you can draw your own totally scandalous conclusions, but you and I both know they involved table tennis in somebody's basement, utterly insane amounts of Yoo-Hoo, and five and a half minutes in heaven with the exchange student from, like, Guam.
So that's the theme: What's been up in the last five years. Besides, like, high school, or potty-training, or rehab, or whatever. Tomorrow night, a long way from here, we'll retitle it the more realistic "Songs of the New Millennium," but nobody's that smart tonight, so whatever. We'll be going not so much "back in time" for the pre-song packages, but instead "back to their homes" and learning more about the Idols we give such a freaking toss about.
Fact one: "Checotah" rhymes with "Dakota." Fact two: It's just got the one traffic light. Fact three: Everything you ever thought about Carrie is twice as true as you might have imagined. Fact four: Carrie's hair? Looks INSANE. There are curls, there is straightness, there is bounce and non-bounce and places where little elves and tiny werewolves set up shop and are selling dreamcatchers, all in the Farmer's Market of her crazy, crazy hair. I mean, it looks cute, but damn you look very close to crazy cat lady right now. Life on the farm, for Carrie, is pretty simple: feed the cows, put out hay, collect cows if they go astray, sing to the cows. She loves the last one! Me too. Carrie was the baby by a margin where her sisters were out the door before she had anything to say, so her best bud was her mom, who talks about how Carrie likes animals more than people, and starts to cry about her beautiful heart as Carrie sweet-talks a cat, a bunny, a hamster, a whatever, everything that I'm allergic to, and my eyes start to swell up just looking at all these danderful animals.
Meanwhile, my friend and spy in attendance, Andrea, tells a different story than the one to which we are used, which is that what we didn't see was Carrie crying in tandem with her pretty mom on the screen, and having to pretty much get it together instantly, not mussing her makeup or dropping the smile, because the pre-song stuff happened about six seconds before the song started, and Carrie actually had to cover her ears because she didn't want to start crying from hearing her mom talk about her, and then the producer pointed at her as the video segment was ending and she was On. And I'm told it was fascinating watching her quote "get it together" and segue into the song, and none of us out here in TV Land actually saw that, but I think maybe it had to do with her snot-tastic coughing influenza performance, because man. She was pretty good regardless, but I imagine her mom is like what Heather Locklear is to me, you know? Important. And that is called grace under freak-out, and I'm proud of her. Also, she and Bo were the only people my spy saw thanking the band during the commercial breaks, and I'm glad about both of those, because the band really went freak-out awesome for everybody tonight, but especially the two of them. Color me unsurprised.
“ I finally get what Paula's saying. She talks all around her point with metaphors and if you just let her go, eventually she'll create a word picture that approximates what you or I might just, you know, say in words. She speaks in negative space. But she will get there. ”
She will be singing "I Turn to You," by Xtina, but first we will learn some things all about her family that we already learned about a billion times. There's not even any Cow Whisperer stuff to spice it up. We literally knew everything there is to know about Vonzell. If you didn't remember any part of the Vonzell story, don't worry. Here it is, in the Thorn Birds-length edition: she's a mail carrier, the baby of her family, which happens to be the most adorable family on the entire surface of this world, and she has two brothers that we meet, who are adorable, and they give each other permission to cry because that's how much they love their baby sister. I'm not complaining, but dude? I'm there. I live here now, in the mansions of Vonzell's cuteness. I don't need the tour. On the other hand, she breaks a board in half with her hand, which is always nice to watch, no matter who you are.
So but sadly, she's off-pitch, very halting and not even working her way toward the tune. I will say, though, that she does some pretty complicated mic work to compensate, and I enjoy seeing people do that in a way where you wouldn't notice. This entire song was written in a Liz Phair key that's at the very, very dungeon bottom of her range throughout, causing her to croak and do some very A-Fed hip-dancing. It's also easily the most boring song of the week, which is saying a lot. I mean, to be fair, she gets there fairly quickly, and gets into it five times as easily as I could, with such a downer boring "I believe that children are our future" kind of song, but then before you know it there are some runs with some crazy crowd reactions that are all "Wooooo!" out of context, and then it's done.
Sarah notes the degree to which Paula's feeling it, right now, and how come nobody told her this song is bad? Bad for her, bad for music. Bad for America. The high parts are too high, the rest is too lowthere are specific middle notes she can do, and she gets them right on the dot, and then ends the song with a deeply unnecessary "I love you, Daddy." I mean, I don't begrudge her dedicating this song which is clearly about her all-important relationship with her all-important Daddy, but we get it, we get it, we get it. This isn't adding to your sum total of image, it's just adding to your making the point to your dad that this is all about your dad, and, like, I barely know you, but I do grasp that. I'm sure he's down.
Randy notes that technically this is the most difficult song of the night, and he loves that she's challenging herself -- and yeah, she has the voice for it -- and he also points out the craziness of "challenging a Xtina joint" and he welcomes her to the Dawg Pound because Lord knows she's not going anywhere and I don't want her to, and he points out that this show is about "finding the best we can, in America" and how he's proud of the performance tonight, and if you put it that way, yeah, she did pretty much rule. Paula was worried because -- again -- "Xtina is Xtina," but it turns out that not only is Vonzell still Vonzell, but also she has an ability to "turn on this magic when you hit the bridge" which is beautiful. I finally get what Paula's saying. She talks all around her point with metaphors and if you just let her go, eventually she'll create a word picture that approximates what you or I might just, you know, say in words. She speaks in negative space. But she will get there. ["Which is, actually, a kind of Paula way to put it in terms of your finding something nice to say (your sense level is obviously higher)." -- Sars] Simon warns Paula and Randy with a caution that, given the loudness and incompleteness of the experience they must deal with each week, there's a strong possibility that it just was not as good as they think. Randy and Paula act outraged at the idea that the first part was flat, but I mean, it was! Watch it back, guys.
“ I don't even know what the fuck Dad means by that, but the choking up that Dad does while delivering that non sequitur is enough to tailspin my whole vibe. I like puppies and children. For the moment. ”
Vonzell has this huge group of supporters, of course, in the audience, and she waves and smiles at them even more than we see her do, according to my spy. Ryan holds her hand and notes that Paula is right on the money about the "intangible connection" and then tells us this interesting and quite pragmatic "ritual" Vonzell has where she doesn't talk on Tuesdays, and Vonzell clarifies that there are two reasons, the first being to save her little voice, and the second being to focus for her performance. She smiles at the camera and does not look crazy, just sweet and good and all things pleasant, smiling. "Vote for me. Or don't. You'll be happier and I will too, but I don't want to pressure you, I just want you to have a fabulous day. Okay?"
Ryan tells us that after the break, Anthony "takes on Celine Dion" and I don't even know where he's headed with this, all "this should be quite a fight." Um, what? Scary French teacher versus tiny sweet little man-child? Two things enter, one thing leaves. He's singing yet another song I haven't heard -- I guess due to living under a rock between 2000-2005 and only peeking my head up like Punxsutawney Phil whenever I hear rumors of a Kylie Minogue or Death Cab album -- called "I Surrender."
But first, Heather Locklear. WOO! "Stars come out for the Idols," Ryan wishes aloud, and tonight we've got Heather, her daughter Eva, and her daughter's friend Hannah, and Ryan makes Eva lie about caring about the show, or having seen it, and Mommy supplies the name of her "favorite," Anthony. Could have been painful, but the kid is gorgeous (denim Kangol notwithstanding) and, I mean, Heather. I'll let you in on a little secret: I think Heather Locklear is awesome. Don't tell.
Anthony grew up in a small town outside Philly, was born cute as hell and boring as raw tofu, even singing adorably on a tape when he was just a little child. His parents wonderfully and touchingly freak completely out and cry and can't take it when they have to think about the awesomeness of their kid. Anna points out that, in terms of the Americana of this, or what I called the Kavalier and Clay of it, they're right on target for crying. Come on: they get it together to the point where they move to the U.S. from Ukraine, their child is objectively beautiful and subjectively super-talented, and now he's en route to possibly (well, never) becoming the American Idol. The streets actually are paved with cheese, in their experience. That rules.
His awesome parents say without irony that Anthony is "our dream" and "his dream [is] our dream" and "I can't believe our dream came true." I am a mean old grouchy man, okay, but dang. Maybe this is where I went soft. You'll see what I mean. "He's not just a dreamer: he is a dream maker." I don't even know what the fuck Dad means by that, but the choking up that Dad does while delivering that non sequitur is enough to tailspin my whole vibe. I like puppies and children. For the moment.
“ 'He goes the gym twice a day, you guys. Check out those arms.' Ryan won't let me get away from it either way. I mean, he's wearing like three layers and we can pretend this is all on the up-and-up, but leave it to Ryan to West Hollywood some creepsville in there all unnecessarily. ”
Okay, so he starts very dramatic, sitting on the stage with all these feelings and some shiny shoes and looking right at you. I will face this, the looking of A-Fed into my soul. This is not a wiggle-dancing kind of song, so we'll be all right. The yelling on key is so very much in effect here, and I love it. My notes all say shit like, "How nice." "I am happy with this performance." "I would like to enjoy this again some time, possibly." He gets the close-up on the big screen behind him, because that's all he's got. He's going to go ahead and surrender, is the point of the song. This point is reiterated several times. Dad's got an airbrushed sign that he can't hold up, and it is adorable.
Randy is pleased, because although it started off rough, he was really good with the high notes. However, again, it's the low notes that need work. Paula points out the shut up fact that Kelly sang that song, in the first season, and of course that it was a Celine song. And you know, I'm not familiar with the song, or Celine Dion's body of work. (Although what I can tell you is that her song "Treat Her Like A Lady" is one of the finest things you can go through, as a human being. It's a Siege Perilous, but the dividends are excellent. In ten words: Celine Dion, rapping like she's Jamaican, about murdering the unchivalrous. Trust me.) But, like, it didn't even seem like a Celine Dion song, when he sang it, to me. Just a song, like a song a guy would sing. Admittedly, a guy like A-Fed, which restricts it to certain people whose feelings are out of control. Rob Thomas, for example, could pull this off -- if, of course, he could keep the crotch in check as well as A-Fed has done tonight. Well done. So Paula noted a beginning, middle, and end -- way to follow the thought the whole time, baby! -- and Simon calls A-Fed a "very brave man," admitting that he personally hated it, which I would have too, assuming that I didn't adore A-Fed, and that I were less ignorant of what Celine Dion gets up to. But on the other hand, Simon knows damn well that A-Fed's fans love him so very much that none of this matters, and he's right about that.
Spy Andrea writes, "Anthony, as I'm sure you know, has the hugest gay following in the world, and there were loads of them there with signs for him. He didn't quite know how to respond to all of it, although was pretty gracious and did a lot of shy waving." See, I knew it. I'm glad he's a gentleman about it, though. Ryan calls it a tough song to sing, and tells us that Anthony's been itching to sing this song for weeks. Why? Ryan doesn't know. Anthony may or may not know. Things are constantly touching his soul. Grand Canyon amounts of things touching his heart and soul all the time like the unstoppable power of the stream and the river to reshape rock is how he picks his songs. His heart is worn down like the toe of a saint by this point, but he doesn't let it get him down. Why should he? He has so much cheesy music to lift his spirits and ours. Also worn down: my threshold for shit like Ryan being all, "He goes the gym twice a day, you guys. Check out those arms." Ryan won't let me get away from it either way. I mean, he's wearing like three layers and we can pretend this is all on the up-and-up, but leave it to Ryan to West Hollywood some creepsville in there all unnecessarily.
Speaking of? Constantine will be singing Nickelback's "How You Remind Me." If you're not familiar with the song, let me tell you some things: first of all, you've heard it. Second of all, it's trashy. Third of all, it's the same song as the "paperback novel/Hollywood horror" song, only not quite as idiotic.