Scott, a Taurus, talks crazy and then sings the compelling and rich classic "Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch," with some weird-ass dancing and a minorly less startling appearance. Randy liked it, and then Paula and Simon get into a fight over whether jazz hands and limp hip-thrusts and a wheezing, lurching two-step constitute "choreography" in the classic sense, and then about whether it was good. I think tonight's episode happened at a very high elevation or something, like on K-2, because everybody seems really out of breath, Scott and Anthony particularly, although the alternate theory is that the two engage in some kind of Greco-Roman wrestling just before their performances. Or "chess," as they're calling it these days.
Bo, a Scorpio, has the grace to be ashamed of himself as he discusses his (surely producer-mandated) penchant for scorpion-like vengeance. Then he sings the greatest "Your Ideal Boyfriend Who's Kind of a Pussy" song of all time, "I'll Be." And I do like that song because it's beautiful and reminds me of my personal IBWKOAP, whom Sars told me never to mention again, but mostly because it attempts to be the most romantic song ever while incorporating the phrase "love suicide." Hilarious, misguided.
Just like A-Fed (a Taurus whose "determination" helped him learn English at some point in the ten years he's been in the U.S.), who sings Marc Anthony while wearing a cute outfit (which showcases the hole to the exclusion of being flattering) and wriggling uncomfortably. I swear at the end of the song he sings he will spend his money all night because he's glad that he's got me, and I don't like what that presumes about me. Randy and Paula tell a heap of white lies and then Simon mentions a litany of truths, including about the wiggles. Then Ryan and Anthony discuss the word "ass," and finally come clean about more "chess," this time with Travis. Don't think of an elephant.
Nikko (Taurus) starts yucky, but ends up sounding pretty great about halfway through -- it's really unbalanced and off-kilter, but the ending kills. Randy and Simon shove Paula into her chair, because she's wandered off again, and all three judges just love it all over the place. The problem? He sings "Georgia," which is so effing cynical that Simon congratulates him on his ghoulish audacity. Why not just sing a duet with Nat King Cole?
Travis (an Aries, like your humble recapper) has a voice that sucks right out the box, so it's all dancing, in this gray wool newsie outfit that's quite fetching. Turn off the sound and it might be the best of the night, as he sings "Every Little Step I Take," by one Bobby Brown. Yeah. And then beatboxes. Poorly. Simon calls it "appalling," and then Simon and Paula have an awesome fight about how sometimes shitty singers start out as dancer/choreographers and then get a record deal even though they're shitty singers and then maybe end up recording the song "Vibeology," which saved a young boy's life once. And that young boy? Was me.
Mario's confused and thinks we have really high expectations of him, which is a burden to him. I'm so sure, Mario. Your hair is a burden to me. He's been singing the "fun side" (read, "plastic cutesy bullshit"), but now he's going to sing the "serious side" or something (ibid.), but what's awesome is when he says that this choice "represents the duality of the Gemini." Jesus. He sings "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?" and is pretty much uneven the entire time and goes completely out of tune for large parts of the song. He goes all kinds of Guarini on me and his eyelids flutter like another personality is coming to the fore, which represents the duality of the crazy person. The judges line up on their knees to tell him lies of such magnitude that if I wrote them down this recaplet would have its own gravity and it would destroy your monitor.
Fucking Constantine frogging his lips out and promising to deliver the same high standard of vocal quality we've come to expect from him no matter what the Top 12 theme night. He's a Virgo, but the bitchy kind whose "perfectionism" and need to be "hard on themselves" is actually a free pass to be a dick to everybody else due to the huge stress of being them, while still doing nothing to correct their egregious behavior. So he sings "Every Little Step," And it's pitchy and unclear and warbling, but still the least objectionable thing Constantine has done to me personally, both vocally and how he looks away instead of staring, but mostly because the camera cuts away every time he threatens to get gross. The judges tell him it was his best so far, which is true, although it still doesn't explain why the hell he's here. Bitch can't sing!
Anwar, a Taurus, very earnestly sings the very earnest "What A Wonderful World." He's a little sharp, and too nasal for me, but he's got great control of that reedy voice, and by the time he gets to the glory notes he's much more clear and pretty. Randy calls it the best vocal of the season, "boy or girl or cat or dog," which I like to think of as a shout-out to me, and Paula says his voice is "truly his instrument" and not only that, but "an entire orchestra." (Woodwinds, mostly.) Then lots of ass-kissing, and Simon asks us politely to pretend Anwar likes girls.