There's a fairly fantastic memory of last Wednesday, where Ryan tosses a jacked-up coin with Carrie and Bo's faces on it into the air, only to drop it so it slips through the cracks of the stage grate like Nadia almost did (she's slender). After some Hulk action trying to pry up the grate, Ryan goes all Butterfly McQueen and sprints off-stage. It's awesome, and then Carrie wins the toss, electing to go second. In hindsight, none of this actually matters.
Behind the judges -- in the order they were eliminated, which is pointless and weird -- sit the Top Twelve, and they're all playing to type: Jessica looks a little wasted, Lindsey's barely there, Mikalah is dressed in jungle chic, Scott has a towel, and A-Fed's watching Carrie very, very closely. Constantine cannot peel his fucking face off the camera except when he turns to address the screaming crowd -- yeah, babe, they're all screaming for you -- and Anwar proves once again that if you trade hair with Björk, you deserve what you get, which is to become Lenny Kravitz.
Bo sings "The Long Long Road," a truly terrible song. He was supposedly ill tonight, which I didn't really believe. Until he started singing. It doesn't affect his marvelous voice much, but he does seem tired and blue. There was this whole thing all day where Bo had a head cold, which moved into his throat, and then Carrie had a sinus infection that turned into an ear infection, and the Bo and Carrie camps escalated madly as is their wont, until now they both have Ebola and West Nile Virus and a hammertoe. But they're still performing! It doesn't matter what the judges said here, because the song sucks so bad, so talking about how bad it sucks is pointless, and there's nothing else to really say, because it was awesome nonetheless.
Carrie sings the original song that will be Bo's coronation song tomorrow night, "Inside Your Heaven," which is not only worse -- maybe one of the worst songs I've ever heard in my entire life, and pornographic to boot -- but also sung terribly off-pitch and off-tempo. The judges are way harsh, but not without reason. I start to get a funny feeling about her chancesâ¦oh wait, I had these feelings weeks ago.
Bo sings "Vehicle," and it's a very solid, magnetic performance, but a little torpid. Not that it really matters, because it doesn't -- he's totally great. It's at least as mesmerizing as the first time he sang it. (It's the one that's all, "Got to have you, child! Great God in heaven, I think I looooove you," which, not for nothing, but we're two for three with the God and heaven references at this point.) The judges get all crazy and, even though it was a wonderful performance, still lie on top of it and talk about how it was the best song ever performed on any stage.
Carrie goes back to "Independence Day," where Simon and I agree she should have sung a song she's done better things with, like "Crying," or "Alone." Given her fetishization of Martina, though, it's no surprise that she would go back to doing what she's most comfortable with. The judges are pretty whatever about it, but sweeter than average. However, she's still flat, so there's only so far that can take you. I think I believe the talk of her otorhinolaryngological meltdown, given that her technical flawlessness is usually the only living thing on that stage when she's singing. Apparently her Ebola is real, even if she is not. ("Let the white dove singâ¦roll the stone away"; we're three for four.)
Bo then rocks the horrible "Inside Your Heaven" (four for five) song, and this is where I think he wins the title. Rough of them to mix up the song order like this, but it does give the night overall some sense of closure. I'm glad they didn't sing it one after the other, though. Less emotionless screaming and more passionate romance -- all the better to distract you from how dirty it is -- is what makes this one work 100% more.
Carrie sings "Angels Brought Me Here" (five for six; I'm just saying), which apparently some other contestant sang on some other show in the Idol franchise, and it's so boring I had to sit here for a second to even remember the name. The awesomest part of this song is the horrible, horrible last note, where she hiccups like she's drunk. Like little bubbles should be coming out of her mouth and floating up into the sky. Which sucks, because she was having a great time, and then sucks harder, because she shows the first emotion ever, immediately after this horrible note, and that emotion is the bitter smile of: "Well, I sure fucked that one, buddy."
Then there's a really, really well edited montage of the season -- although I'm sure it's nothing compared to the crap I'll be recapping tomorrow night for the six-hour amazing finale -- that gets me kind of misty. Plus, it includes Adam Pratt, which gets me Tom Cruise levels of whooping and jumping on the couch.
In the final analysis, however, I still think this is Bo's. A lot of the praise for Carrie was subtle, if not downright backhanded, as it was last week, and you know, he was justâ¦better. Either way will make for good TV, though, because if she wins, the internet will go insane, which will make my life simply fabulous for a week or two, and if Bo wins, the screaming of Sigma houses across the country will probably bring down bats and other stuff that navigates with sonar, which will be weird and cool and kinda Biblical, like Magnolia or something, as befits the most Mel Gibson-adjacent finale ever.
The recaps will be split between the singing and the resulting, this week, so watch out for the results show recap in a couple of days. In the meantime, on with the singing. We open on Ryan, rampant on a field of black, speaking in hushed tones of the Kodak Theatre, and what will transpire there. Photographs? Dare I say, photo…opportunities? Yes, and so much more. Just when we're lulled into a false sense of comfort, that it's just us and Ryan on the vacation from this show that you, and I, and poor little enervated Ryan so desperately need, in the sweet, cool darkness…BOOM! Three thousand screaming people! And they're all screaming at you! They were there the whole time! Imagine a nice, like, tea. With just Ryan. Nice, huh? See him, avant le déluge: proportionally gayer, as every year, than he started, and yet no less exhausted for it. It's pretty cool to see them all appear, like something out of Harry Potter, but kind of a shock. How'd they keep them all quiet?
There are credits, in case we're watching this by accident, and then the FANT ASIA screen splits apart and Ryan comes out of it again, even though we already saw him. He's again wearing that black corduroy jacket that is made of my couch, and thus earns a whistle. Roseanne Barr-Arnold-Barr-Thomas is in the audience. I bet she likes Bo. Ben Stiller and Christine were there on Wednesday, and they said they voted for Bo like 500 times. The thing that kills me with this is how all the proud "blue state" people decided they'd vote for Bo, and talked about how it was such a shame that (SPOILER!) he lost, another red-state victory, but like, he's from Alabama? Which state makes Oklahoma look positively magenta? So what are you actually saying, for real?
So Ryan asks who is going to be the American Idol, and it seems like everybody screams "Bo!" Then Ryan says it's "just as he thought," that it's split right down the middle. So, like, either he's lying, or else -- and this has come to mind before, with the whole "Ruuuuuuuuben" thing -- maybe the sound of noise just bears a resemblance to people screaming "Bo." You know? Although I'm inclined to believe that in fact everyone was screaming for Bo, because he's better.
Here's a thing, and I'm not sure how to approach it, because I don't want to come off like a dick, but I was emailed this week, Wednesday noon actually, by CNN to appear and talk about the finale. It happens to recappers sometimes, even baby ones, and sometimes we're kind of shy about it, even though it is awesome. And the thing is, it fell through -- fucking Michael Jackson and his fucking defense resting when there's AI commentary to be done! -- but I had this really fun, great talk with the entertainment producer over there, and she asked me about Bo and about Carrie, one after the other (this was before the finale). And so she asked about Bo, and I said the usual: "He's a consummate performer, a passionate artist, who has the experience to turn disadvantages to his use," and she asked me about Carrie, and I said the usual: "She is a savant, a real prodigy, somebody who innately understands perfection in tone and pitch, and I'm immensely proud that someone with a gift like that has discovered her path in life." And Andrea, on the phone, was quiet for a second, and then breathed, "You really like both of them, don't you?"
And I thought about it for a second, and had to agree. I certainly do. Nobody's more shocked than me, but yeah. It was weird, and kind of cool. I had all these ideas about how this show was fluff, and akin to professional wrestling, and I'm not saying that's not true, I just…they're both of them really, really good at what they do. Not that there isn't room for improvement, but, like, Bono has shitloads of improving to do on his horrible ass, not that I'm going to be letting him know, and he's a successful rock star, so whatever. I'm rooting for both of them, no matter what happens in this recap. For what this is, which is a marketability contest just like America's Top Model, or The Apprentice, to be honest: I like both of them. Almost exactly equally, as it turns out. But we'll talk about that later.
Hey, my computer was struck by lightning and I just bought a new computer. One that wasn't built by our forefathers -- I can actually keep my email open while I surf the web or write this recap. I'm just talkin' about progress, people.
Seacrestiana about how it's "Boy v. Girl" again, for the first time since Justin and Kelly. He wonders aloud, "Will there be another movie spin-off? God, I hope not." Which is worth thinking about, except for how I have this obsession with group dancing. If a movie has group dancing, I will watch it a thousand times. I own From Justin To Kelly for precisely that reason: to watch the incredibly intricate group dance sequences, over and over and over. And I can't be the only one. (This is also about the sole reason I own She's All That and Girls And Boys, to give you some inkling of the shameful obsession going on here.) And that's the last time we'll be talking about that.
Ryan tells us the deal tonight: three phone lines, four hours for voting, and three songs, thusly. Each contestant will sing two original "songs," and their favorite song from the season. I said the words "Martina Fucking McBride" aloud at this point, and I was right, but I'm not taking credit for that one. God.
We flashback to fake last Wednesday, where Ryan tosses this poorly-stickered coin -- Bo's face on one side, Carrie's on the other -- to see who gets to pick first or second. This coin toss is sponsored by a certain cola company, okay? You think the beer sponsorship logo on SNL after the band plays makes you feel weird? Ryan tosses the coin in the air, and duffs it, dropping it in the grate on the stage. Carrie giggles, the crowd goes nuts, and then Ryan goes a kind of fake nuts pulling at the grate like some kind of superman. Given that he is not, he soon gives up, and runs off the stage, arms flapping about and walking like a funny little duck, causing the crowd -- and your humble recapper -- to laugh uproariously. Funny little ducky!
Carrie and Bo, who have a vested interest, get down to the business of prying the grate open for real, and are aided by several valiant crewmembers. Then there is a redo, and again Seacrest barely catches it, but the end result is that it's Carrie's choice. Which is like Sophie's choice, kind of, in that you're either going before Bo, and risking that nobody remembers anything you did, or going after Bo, and looking like an idiot. Although this hardly matters, of course, in the final analysis, so Carrie chooses to sing second. Ryan, whose bias is clearer than my own, points out not that Carrie will be going second, but that Bo will be "kicking us off in the finale." He then hugs Bo, who looks rather grim.
Oh, yeah: they're both terribly sick. They don't tell us this on the show, of course, but it's true. Apparently Bo was throwing up between every performance, because he had food poisoning, which is interesting in light of what happens, while Carrie was afflicted with some kind of sinus/ear infection, which explains her sudden estrangement from things like pitch and key. I can't blame it for her inability to sing on tempo, but I do give her credit for the rest of it, because one thing this girl has never done is hit a note anything other than on perfect pitch. The whole day before this aired, I worried about them a little bit, but also about the viewers: for whom would it suck more if they sounded like a couple of idiots?
Bo sings this original song, by (not, in fact, "Cousin Larry") Appleton, "The Long Long Road," and, um, it is not good. The song's kind of boring, and definitely improves on multiple viewings, but at first review, it is not interesting or enjoyable, to me. Slightly less fun than sitting through a Matthew Barney film. He looks like hell, not surprisingly, although I must admit that he's wearing sunglasses that are not offensive. They're those Lennon rose-colored sunglasses that protect you from nothing, and are thus a fashion choice and not whatever the hell causes him to wear those impenetrable things usually. It's very attractive, in fact. There's a whole choir arranged on the steps, singing the boring song along with him. They're none too thrilled, but as professional as everyone else about it.
The lyrics are very country, like, "Gotta bring you home, 'cuz baby, I've been missing you so long," and that's just not my personal bag. He does, however, sing maybe his highest sustained note, and altogether it's a pretty great performance -- especially, maybe, due to having to watch him sweat and feel like hell through it from beginning to end. His voice goes out a few times at the bottom of his range, and the choir picks it up for him, but it's noticeable. Honestly, I swear he could rock a stage if he were just a torso. Just Visible Bo up there on a dessert cart, singing about whatever.
Bo's crazy grandma claps crazily, as Nadia Turner sits behind the judges grinning widely and looking like a million bucks. Randy calls this both "the semifinal" (untrue) and "the most important show ever" (debatable), and goes on to say that the competition is "really close" (possibly true), and that the people of America may just make their minds up tonight. As if they hadn't hardened into three camps -- Bo, Carrie, and Fuck This -- who would vote or not regardless of what happened tonight. He says he has good news and bad news, causing some girl to fucking shriek like she's getting stabbed even though he has not yet said anything of importance. Chill, girl, we've got three hours left. This is the first fucking song. Pace your damn self.
"I did not like that song," says Randy, and the people start booing immediately, which is so mob mentality and idiotic on so many levels we can't even address it, "It's a weird song, but here's the good news," he continues, over the booing. "The great news about it, y'all, is that it doesn't matter what you sing -- the key sounded really low and it's a really rangy song -- but you still brought it home in the end." Irrespective of the fact that this is not only true, but also the only thing Randy ever says, again that fucking girl screams.
I'm so glad I'm not her neighbor: "Is Jen home?" "EEEE AHHHH!" "Okay? I'd like to talk to you about changing your long distance service." "OOOOOHHHHH! AAAAIEEEE!" Not to trample on her right to, like, geek out and express herself, but there's kind of a situation here where it's not really about Bo, it's about the people turning around to look at you, and whatever it is that you derive from that: are you proving that you are just the hugest Bo fan in the world? Or are you proving that you're a wild thing, a crazy girl? Or do you just have zero self-control? Because none of those are really as flattering as you think -- most of the people in the auditorium are fans of Bo, I think, and they're not offering a medal for "biggest asshat." I've been to like five Tori Amos concerts, and I know from this subject, because that's the first place I learned about this kind of behavior. In a group of over three thousand? It takes a lot to stand out. You're not the show here.
Anyway, that shit bugs me. Someone's holding an "Ayla Loves Bo" sign, with pictures, which is awesome, because instead of a Daryl Hannah cave woman, the tiny little girl on the picture is dressed not unlike Missy Elliott. Whoever is responsible for this child? Good job. She's awesome.
Paula congratulates Bo on how his "dream came true -- you're here tonight." Her world is so small. She then screams shrewishly, "I told you I'd see you in the finals! I told you!" She says that "it's hard to sing a song nobody knows," apparently forgetting that that's two-thirds of the fucking assignment. Which, by the way? If you tell these kids to sing these crappy songs, don't mention it in your judging comments. Seriously. You've gotta know that these songs are assigned to them, and not their fault, and to talk about it smacks of behind-the-scenes malarkey. I mean, I know what you're saying: half the time it's an apology, of sorts. But the fans never get it, and think you're just being critical of random things, and there's a stupid amount of booing, and it's more of a time-waster than the parts where there isn't singing or judging, because you made that happen.
However, Paula immediately redeems herself: "I get the chills when I see everybody vibing with you and that's a true mark of a great singer doesn't matter what you sing Bo you could sing the Webster's dictionary." Of which reference text I am obliged to suggest Paula fucking avail herself every now and then, but it's a nice acquittal. "Vibing." What's that say in "the Webster's dictionary"? Nothing? Oh, okay. She gets an "amen, amen" from Randy, nonetheless, and Bo smiles very sweetly and thanks them like a little gentleman.
Simon lies about how this is "the closest final we've ever had," and then apropos of drug talk, mentions that Bo "looks like [his] chemistry teacher." Either he's finally gone back to graduate, like his hero Fantasia, or he's left out some words, because what the hell is he talking about? Not that it matters, because Randy's insane and Bo's five seconds from another offstage boot. Bo thanks him, then realizes it made no sense, and makes a confused face. This is the dark side of southern gentility: when you forget what you're doing, and start, say, agreeing with numbers, or thanking Simon for the comparison to an old schoolmaster. So sleepy. But then fucking Randy gets involved, and he's all, "That's a good thing!" Simon disagrees, instead of copping to the huge derailment he's just perpetrated, and then Randy says, "I saw you mixing those things, man!" At which point I start thinking maybe I'm the one not so much on track here. Luckily, Paula saves me, putting on a drunk happy face and doing an impression, of sorts, of Martha Stewart: "It's a good thing!" That makes less sense than the shit preceding it, and I'd like to remind you that this is all happening while Bo is wavering back and forth on his pins up front and praying to get offstage before he fucking pukes. These people.
Simon calls it "a very dreary song," leading to more bullshit booing, and then explains explicitly that Bo is "going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that tonight to walk away with this title." Bo smiles and continues to almost pass out, his fucking crazy grandmother carries on crazy grandmothering, the crowd goes nuts, and Randy and Paula go blah, blah, blah. Ryan and Bo hold hands awhile, and Ryan offers him a chance to respond. Bo, of course, always "digs" constructive criticism. He also gets a whistle at this point, whether for this or just generally, from somewhere in the crowd. He continues to explain that he has "much love" for them all. Jesus. I've accepted that this is my personal issue, but I fucking hate that hippie talk. It makes you sound like an idiot no matter what. Like you sign your emails with a grand fucking "Mahalo," or, like, "Namaste." Much love this, motherfucker, I'd say. Right in the face, people. Boom.
Ryan, off the judges' comments, asks how tough it is to prepare an original song like that. Bo replies that it's "weird," because you've not had the opportunity to hear it, but also "hard," because "nobody can get into it with you sometimes." But, he hastens to add, "It's cool, man, give me a song and I'll sing it!" How very much like no answer at all, but bonus points for continuing to be earnest. I'm just glad he can back all of this up with his beautiful fucking voice and the whole wonderful thing he does onstage, because talk like that would usually make me hate him more than Constantine. There's a fake plastic smile into the screen, as we finally get to the three separate numbers, due to him being about to fall over. He summons the energy to wink at a crowd member, and we act out on Ryan smiling conspiratorially with him.
Randy makes some gang signs into the camera as Paula gives him rabbit ears, and Ryan introduces Carrie, singing a most amazing song. It is called "Inside Your Heaven," and it is stupid as hell. Here are some lyrics, which also include in the first few lines the words "blessed," "revelation," and "amazing": "You're all I've got / You lift me up…The sun and the moonlight / All my dreams are in your eyes…Take me to the place you cry from / When the storm blows you away." For real, these are the words. The awesome part is that this is the single that the winner will be shilling at the end of the week, along with the other original "song" they're singing tonight. Oh, and the non-winner? Same deal.
Carrie looks somewhere between perfectly cute and beautifully plastic, as usual, and she's wearing a cute fitted jacket. She's a little more warbly than normal, and not hitting notes she normally could hit -- especially the big ones, which makes it quite weird. This is where you really see practice and technique coming in, for her: it's like Anwar, this (only she still sounds relatively good to your ears). The choir comes out and does some totally twee movements which are still cooler than her moves. The song is boring and leads one to some really mature mental places, lyrically, and her voice degrades just a little bit with every line and phrase, until by the end it's kind of piercing and shrieky. She waves at the end, all wide-eyed and sweetly at the crowd, and thanks the down-front people. A-Fed is the last to take his seat from the ovation, and that's all I'm saying about that.
Randy once again is called upon to give us both "good" and "bad" news. The bad news is: "God, the song…I don't know what's going on with these songs, I didn't love that song either." That's not bad news for Carrie, though; that's bad news for the song, and you're still not really selling that this is a positive thing for her. But this is even more of a show-mandated song, being the eventual single, so then something awesome happens.
Paula -- immediately, actually, which was nice to see -- catches this, and looks over at Simon to see if he's going to be pissed about this open dissing of the single. He is, and they share a cute moment where Paula giggles and Simon fidgets around, and Randy finally gets off his kick of criticizing the show itself long enough to mention that she didn't seem to be connecting to the song so much, early on. Wow, Carrie was weird and robotic and not feeling it? Imagine. Anyway, the good news is, surprisingly enough, that "in the end…you brought it home." Just like Bo, which Randy himself points out, admitting that he is repeating his comments verbatim. He says that they both "deserve to be here," and that they are now "one and one." Which, like, there have been two songs, but whatever. People cheer regardless, because that's what they do.
Seeing Randy's success with repeating his comments word for word -- and I daresay hoping she can get away with it for the remainder of the show -- Paula gives Carrie the same speech she just gave Bo, also pointing out that she's repeating herself. Anwar has his hair Björk-balled up all over his head and is wearing shades and comes off like Lenny Kravitz's dorky younger brother trying to look tough. Paula goes further, pointing out how there were bad notes, "but who the heck cares?" Um, people with ears? I mean, I get what she's saying, but also: what are you selling here? Eyes on the prize, Abdul. Carrie smiles again, genuinely, and it's beautiful again, sincerely.
Simon sympathizes with her: "I can see how nervous you are! I wouldn't want to be standing up there." She giggles and looks very nervous. "I thought the song was much better than the first song." Which he's contractually obligated to say, since it's people in his employ who wrote it, unlike the first song, but the people fucking scream their asses off anyway. Including Constantine, who nods his head like he knows what's going on, and then forgets to stop, like Paula. I wonder if he's high…er, I mean, rather, "I wonder if he's recently been freed from the shackles of his chronic pain." I bet he has been. Probably there was intense "unshackling" right before the show started, and you know Jessica and Mikalah were down with that shit.
"Carrie," Simon says, "you're going to have to pace yourself this evening, because your vocal was right on the edge there." And yeah, she was pushing, because she had to, and the immediate result was a screechy, yelly kind of sound, but the prognosis for night's end involves bleeding in the throat, at this rate. Nonetheless, he says, "Round one goes to you." Ryan asks the question he asks her every week, which is what it feels like to be a young innocent girl from a small town in Oklahoma with only one streetlight who's never sung professionally in her life before this moment, because singing to cows don't count. However, the cynicism of the packaging these kids have gone through is thoroughly trumped by her very not-fake, adorable answer: "I really don't think I can describe it. This is incredible. Definitely overwhelming, but awesome. Awesome. Awesome." It's cute, because she gets overwhelmed even as she saying it, and does more of that crying without tears that she always does, and in which I now believe. Ryan calls it "an emotional night," with no less than zero emotion in his voice.
In more exciting news, he tells us, we'll be hearing from Bo , and his favorite song of the season. Which, hey! Never did get to hear "Brandy," did I? I've also, in the interim, decided I need A-Fed to sing "Waiting For A Star To Fall." Can you imagine? If either of these things happen on the tour, I'll totally go. How about that?
Back onset, Ryan's standing in a heap of screaming girls, all dressed like Marissa Cooper. So clearly it's Bo up , in case we forgot. Ryan tells us how the first time Bo sang this, he "sealed the deal" and "reserved his spot on the stage tonight." So it is "Whipping Post"? Isn't that when he…oh, it's "Vehicle." Little later in the season, but I do like it better, and he certainly does enjoy singing the song. Well, usually, but not tonight, so much. He's so tired, you guys. I wish I could give him my couch through the screen, and make him some chamomile and play some soothing Björk, or…no, that probably wouldn't be soothing for him. Whatever, I don't really harbor swamp folk that often. Sounds of people working on their cars or killing varmints or something.
Not that any of this has anything to do with the awesomeness of Bo's performance; he rocks it, he can't help it, and the bottoming-out on his range kind of helps. He's chosen the one persona on the persona tree where your voice can sound shitty and it helps. It's the Kim Caldwell Corollary. It's just ludicrously awesome, and he's pretty much a sex bomb on it, if you're into that kind of thing. Professionally, I really think he's just about the most amazing thing. I love his successes. This is like the perfect song for him, too. It's so Oldies Station funky.
In the audience, the Terrible Twosome, Mikalah and Jessica, are dancing from less than utterly flattering angles, but, like, just the concept of those girls on the loose is so scary to think about for me, even now. There's a bag of blood-spattered money and a midnight trip to Baja in there, and some cute girls in the morning going, "Gawd, leave us alone. I don't even remember what happened, mister, so stop yelling at me about it." Bo's family is now wearing effing sunglasses. Scott's dad seems to have survived whatever happened to him last time he was onscreen, but there's been no increase in his vitals. Bo looks completely amazing, at the finish, and the other Idols are, I dare say, just a bit more active in this standing ovation than they were before the commercial.
Randy gets very, very excited: "That's what I'm talking about! That's how you put it down! Now I'm happy! That was hot!" Only, you know, he says each of these things twice in a row. Paula gets hyperbolic on us, all "you couldn't have performed it better than you did just now" and "that's the true authentic Bo we know and love," and, like, the guy may well be actually dying, and it's obvious from looking at him, so tone it down maybe? Since he's going to lose anyway, why cheapen it by overselling it? Oh right, we already talked about that. Sixteen times.
Simon welcomes Bo back, after that first tepid performance, and rejoices disingenuously that "now we've got ourselves a competition." Ryan editorializes: "Fun to sing along, too, on that one." Imagine Ryan singing that song: "I'm your vehicle, woman / I'll take you anywhere you want to go." Isn't that the most darling thing you've ever imagined? Ryan then teases us, all, "Coming back with some classic country from Carrie." Shut up, you know it's going to be goddamned Martina McBride, don't get my hopes up.
Then Carrie sings Martina McBride. "Independence Day," in fact, a song about burning down houses and wife-beating and going to the fair, which you may have heard before. It's entirely possible that you've heard it one hundred and thirty-two times. On this show. This season. Performed by this contestant. But to be fair, that's like all there is to do in Oklahoma: set things on fire, get violent, go to the fair, sing to cows. Your options are limited.
A reader emailed me the lyrics to the awesomest song by Martina McBride, called "God's Will." And yes, "Will," in this case, is a person. And yes, that's a clue right there. Here are some of the lyrics: "I met God's Will on a Halloween night / He was dressed as a bag of leaves / It hid the braces on his legs at first." Okay? "As he struggled down the driveway / It almost made me hurt," and the chorus: "Will don't walk too good / Will don't talk too good / He won't do the things that the other kids do / In our neighborhood." Like, I have nothing to add to that. Just ruminate on how that's what we're dealing with right here.
Carrie's nasal country voice is not that different from her usual voice, in terms of precision, but there is a noticeable difference, to answer a question I asked awhile back about "Sin Wagon." This question will be answered to within an inch of its life tomorrow night, when she aids and abets the Rascal Flatts' ruination of "Bless The Broken Road." This is one of her worst performances since I can't remember when, in terms of hitting notes square and sounding like she's feeling this at all. I think it's maybe a combination of her illness throwing her off -- the sinuses, ears, all that Palahniuk gooey mucousy stuff happening inside your head that we don't think about, are in fact what we sing with, so it's not surprising -- and the fact that, as it's her favorite song of all time, she's already sung it a bajillion times, and no longer can be arsed to pay attention on a note-by-note level. It's uneven, pushy and weak by turns, at least until halfway through, and then it's just very yelly and mostly clear, not unlike good old A-Fed. It's not as good as her first song, and she's clearly not "pacing herself" as Simon instructed, but on the other hand, she's just a good singer: there's not a lot to say about it. She's got the talent and the technique, and the ability to display adaptability and roll with it and turn disadvantages on their ear, like Bo has, like Rashida did, that'll come when she's, you know, entered junior high.
Randy's all, "Yo, yo, I gotta say for me, welcome back Carrie, that's the Carrie I love! That's an amazing vocal, you worked it out! Congratulations! That was hot." When, oh when, will he start in on the Dawg Pound talk with Carrie? Or any of the young ladies? That's interesting to think about. Paula gives it her best: "Primo, Carrie. That was brilliant. Great vocal, great vocal." Points for effort, Paula. Simon actually tells the truth, that it wasn't a "great vocal," that it sounded strained and overt, and then he gives the round to Bo, saying the most rational thing of the entire night: she should have chosen "Crying" for this one, instead of going on her own personal favorite Oprah Book Club song. I would add "Alone" to that list, too, because one thing the girl can do is harmonize her ass off. But no, she's opted for comfort, and I don't blame her. Talk about your stress.
Ryan immediately makes her laugh, running up with his arms flopping around, imitating Randy: "Jackson says, No way, Cowell! You're wrong about that!" She giggles, and gets it back together in time to grin and wink at some audience members. Man, I love Ryan Seacrest. Even if it doesn't make sense, even if he's rooting for the other guy, he'll still make an ass of himself if it's necessary to defuse a situation. That's a sneaky kind of backwards professionalism, but he's a court jester, it's what he's called upon to do, and he's fantastic about it. Both sides of it, he is good at. She's scared to death. Paula, Simon, and Randy share a private joke as we act out to a commercial for a Heather Locklear movie! Which…also stars Hilary Duff. Ouch.
Actually, no, I don't have anything against Hilary Duff, she used to come on after Even Stevens, so I've seen like a hundred episodes of her show on Disney. I do, however, have things against: Chris Noth, Carson Kressley, and the title "The Perfect Man." Still, though, it's a toss-up, because Locklear's a tie breaker, so there's all this internal stress, and I must rely on my own innate inability to remember to go see movies while they're in the theatre. If I actually find myself seeing the movie, that's like fate said I should see the movie, so it's okay. This is why the last movie I saw was, like Elektra, and before that it was, like, The Butterfly Effect. Fate is a harsh mistress.
Now, Ryan tells us, is the pivotal round: each of the final two has one song left. Bo then proceeds to somehow rock the sub-Warren sounds of "Inside Your Heaven," the song Carrie sang up front, about the sun and the wind and the place you cry from. She hasn't got one of those places that you cry from, although Bo seems to be crying an awful lot this week, so maybe that's why he's better with this song. He gives that fake hustle onto the stage, almost exactly, and looks in general kind of desperate. They're both good, so you wouldn't strictly notice that this is not at 100% for either of them, but I think almost half, probably, of the general blah of this season's Final Two comes down to: don't you think it might have actually been awesome, if they were at the top of their respective games? Given the forcing the country music issue and general similarities of the two contestants, given all that, can you imagine if they'd been the best they'd ever been? The crazy beautiful harmonies of "Alone"? The sexy, dirty masterpiece of a full-on, no-holds-barred "Vehicle"? If you liked it, I'm not saying it was bad, I'm just saying, now add a hundred to that. You know?
I wish they weren't sick. I wish he weren't singing this song. I wish he would win American Idol. The hair-tossing is out of control; he's never acted with the hair as much as he does here. His voice continues to sound really ragged, but of course it works. You can actually hear it getting worn out the more he sings; it's noticeably degraded since the last song. But he's Bo, so he sells it, because he knows how. He's forty, of course he knows his way around a stage. There's a part where he goes a little Edwin McCain, and then he hits the one note he really needs to hit, and the people start screaming and the choir finally comes in. I think the key is that he's singing it in a very passionate, non-sexual way, instead of as a dirge or whatever Carrie was doing, so it's more distracting and you don't have time to think about the squicky, smurfy lyrics. Maybe it's also that he's wearing a very flattering outfit. Maybe it's not that he gets better-looking each week, but instead that he gets better-looking every second, and we're just checking in at intervals.
Now Grandma's doing a duck call. God. Are you kidding me?
Randy gives him the meaningless, irritating, nearly-insulting-at-this-point accolade of being "forever in my Dawg Pound." As though this means anything, there are random Dawg Pound sounds -- although maybe I'm just prejudiced against the crowd at this point, and it was actually the past Idols, which would make more sense. "That was hot," Randy finishes lamely. Paula points out that he ventured outside his range with that one, and you know, he did, and it was sublime, and maybe he should sing higher more often. "I fell in love with the song. You really gave your all on that one. My props to you, Bo."
You fell in love with the song? This song? The "Inside Your Heaven" song? You know, it occurs to me that if this shit were fixed, and if we were all just text-messaging into a giant black hole, all of these mixed messages would have a really excellent purpose, in terms of amping up the tension about how close this race really was.
Speaking of, up comes slithering Simon, talking about how it's the only time he's seen Bo showing nerves throughout this competition. Now, I've said the same thing, especially with regard to him viewed in this light when compared with Carrie, and for his part, Bo nods like he knows exactly what Simon's talking about -- although that could just be more of that "chemistry teacher" stuff from before. I don't know that Bo is really interested, or listening, every time he agrees with you. Bo's girlfriend, take note. Simon kind of spins this, pointing out how this shows how much it means to Bo. So there's like five kinds of English on this one, and the crowd doesn't know what to do about it -- there's cheering, booing, hooting, whatevering, but not really a group consensus like normal. Simon admits that Bo outsang Carrie this round, in response to which fucking Paula Abdul fucking stamps her feet and giggles and shakes her head like she just won a wager, and then there is some weird juju. "Bo, this may be the last chance I get to say something to you in the competition: It has been, for us, an absolute pleasure having you on American Idol." I'm not even sure I can count the spins on that without some graph paper and maybe like holograms, but whatever. I like to give Simon the benefit of the doubt.
Seacrestiana on how the show is all about "stepping up when it counts: when it matters," and then Ryan talks about how Bo Bice was working in a guitar shop -- ew -- in Alabama a few months ago, and is now at the finale of American Idol. How would he describe this night? Oh, come on. That's like Mad Libs: "Magical, surreal, just wanna thank all the crew and all the cast and all you people out there that voted every week, and God bless you and I love you all, and as long as you cats come out to see me play somewhere I'll play till the last one of you gets to hear." I don't know what he means, but I knew he was going to say every part of that. He tells his mom he loves her in an Elvis kind of way. Like, it means to be secretive but comes off kind of creepy. Ryan leans in and quietly says, looking away from the camera: "Good luck to you, brother." They are so sweet. Bo grabs him in a big old hug.
Simon grins mischievously up at Ryan as he introduces Carrie, and Ryan shoves the mic in Simon's face for a particularly rehearsed kind of awkward "…Underwood." Carrie comes out and sings "Angels Brought Me Here" in a pretty black dress, and you can see her knees bending ever so slightly as she bounces. I imagine feeling like total ass makes you wanna bounce, so you don't fall down. Also doing this would be the fact that it is the most boring song in the world. "I found you, my miracle / If you could see what I see / You're the answer to my prayers / And if you could feel the tenderness I feel / You would know, it would be clear / That angels brought me here." Barf. I don't even get it, and I hate it. What do those words even mean?
She's wearing this multi-strand bling that you can't see except in close-up, because she's so very pale, sick, and white tonight. Her voice sounds completely tired, like little kids when they're so tired they're about to cry. The choir are doing the same dance as before, and it's just as lame. There's one note she kind of holds for a little while, and then we go to the ending, which admittedly is pretty sweet, and then a pit stop at the very high head voice, and then the last note, which she fucks up so bad. I said before in the recaplet that it sounded like she was drunk. It's so terrible that she kind of giggles bitterly about it. Cut to Moesha and Debbie "Deborah" Gibson looking very sad and/or incredulous for her, and onstage, Carrie almost starts crying.
Scott Savol has a towel. Why?
Randy's up off his ass and giving her something he calls "The Dawg's Standing O," and he explains this not at all, but an awful lot nonetheless. I think it means: that he stood up. I think that's literally all that it means. His actions have some cosmic damn effects. Like at breakfast he eats "The Dawg's Crispy Kasha and Near-Burnt Bacon" and when he gets home after work he maybe reads "The Dawg's Populist US Weekly" and then climbs into "The Dawg's Spacious and Comfortable Sleep Number Bed."
Paula gives her version of "The Cowell's Cleverly-Disguised Kiss-Off": "What you've been able to accomplish is a lifetime of achievements and you'll never face anything more scary in your life congratulations you've done an amazing job way to go girl way to go." Simon tells Carrie she's got "a lot of guts" for "competing with somebody who's older" and "has more experience." While this makes no sense and has nothing to do with Carrie, he goes for the hat trick, speaking of how he "felt [her] emotion" on the song -- knowing that this is the other main disadvantage she has in this competition -- and how, finally, he thinks she's "done enough to win this competition." At the time I heard it, I thought it was a kind of mean comment on how people get rabid about their favorites and lie to themselves that it sounds good even when it doesn't, but that wasn't it at all. He was just right.
Ryan helps her tell us, because sometimes she's hard to read, because she's an emotionless monster when she's onstage, that she's very excited about tomorrow night. She laughs and says it's "nice to see an end in sight," which is both funny and got a huge "WORD" from me, and that "now that the competition aspect will be out of it, we can go on tour and put it all out there and have fun with it." I love that she's looking at it like that. "Thank God we're not competing anymore, because we are going to get to go on tour!" Whether or not she knows she's a lock, and I don't think that she does, but even if she did, that's still awesome. Ryan notes that she'll be singing with Rascal Flatts tomorrow: "You love them!" She yells right back, "I love them!" It's cute.
Then, less so, as that word vomit thing she does starts up: "I'm nervous just because it's them but they're so amazing and so nice, I love them to death." When she talks like that I want to pinch her so she'll remember where she is. Then, though, it's absolutely okay, because she does that total dork laugh, "hunh hunh hunh," like that woman who's married to her dog on Showdog Moms & Dads, the scary one who does "shows" with her dog at birthday parties. "Hunh hunh hunh." Sounds like an insult to Carrie, but it's not, because it's adorable, and because I admire her ability to hold herself together at all, as I have all of them throughout. This is some big stuff. Maybe not so much in terms of music, or my life or yours, but I'd wager many of us have never been in such a large, loud, scary circumstance before. I don't know if I could do it. Carrie mouths, "Hi, Dad! I love you!" into the camera, and her eyes sparkle adorably.
To review: Bo sang "The Long, Long Road," a long, long song. He had the abdominal issues happening and also a cold. Then he sang "Vehicle" with more hips than before, but maybe a little less passion. He somehow managed to make "Inside Your Heaven" just a song, instead of an affront. It's like the "love suicide" song all the boys love to sing: he does it so you just kind of get to ignore it. Carrie, meanwhile, managed to make "Inside Your Heaven" boring enough that you didn't notice the pervy words, but did manage to bring some emotion into it by the end. She was bound and determined to sing "Independence Day," so they let her, and she smiled her way through yet another laughably depressing Martina McBride song. There were weird hand movements on "Angels Brought Me Here," but what's awesome is how, in rehearsal -- which is where these end-of-show clips come from, since we're live here -- she didn't fuck up the last note, so what could have been a damaging misstep is wiped out of our minds by another version of her singing the song earlier that night. And that's how it's always done, and I think it's just a coincidence that her best note in rehearsal was the worst note of the night, live, but it's not like that little thing made a huge difference in the votes.
This song that sounds like Queen singing a Cyndi Lauper song, which I heard might be from the film Say Anything, plays as we remember basically everything that ever happened. Remember, if you will, when LL Cool J embraced Leandra Jackson and there was a group hug, it rained somewhere, Bo Bice and Carrie were adorable and five years younger last summer than they are now, crazy feet guy was crazy, Scott Savol had the first of many outbursts, that really old guy with the mullet and the orange skin applied base, Leroy was cool, and Gene Simmons sucked.
But how could we forget the time that ADAM PRATT happened, or when Mary R. Guilbeaux was not too shabby, Angel Kay LeTourneau cried from her pile of teenage booty, that beautiful and deeply crazy blonde girl that almost left and then came back and screamed while laughing hysterically at Randy cried, Regina Brooks is hopefully still not dead but maybe has it a little more together, and Captain Purple sang in the Key of Purple and is troubling no matter how many times you see it happen.
Remember how Elizabeth Pha was a fucking horror, Ryan "pitched," Simon kissed Paula and Randy almost cried, that guy from New Orleans I liked so much was really happy, Rainbow Brightman was kind of scary for a sec, Marlea Stroman left, one of the Delmas was called a fool but really they both were, everybody hated working with Scott, Simon pretended to kill Paula, and then somebody cried and fell down?
Okay, but do you remember when Kurtis/John/JP got through based on nothing whatsoever except that they are adorable and/or sexy as hell and then John Zisa cried? Or when some old woman prayed and cried, Mikalah attacked Simon, A-Fed was nervous, the girl who almost puked in the elevator ran screaming into the street, Seacrest was on American Idol, David Brown was awesome, Janay Castine -- heh, Ryan got his feelings hurt and threw water on Simon but did not melt him, Mario wore that stupid bathing-suit fedora, the numbers got fucked up six different ways and no matter what happened they always favored Carrie somehow?
Remember how there was a Final 12, Mikalah got pretty, Lindsey could sing at one point, Jessica was awesome, Nikko was super-cool, Nadia had a mohawk, Anwar was Anwar, Constantine gave a little kick, Scott wore a suit, A-Fed loved you truly madly and deeply, Vonzell was awesome, Bo beautiful and godlike or whatever, Carrie was suddenly and briefly sexy as hell, everybody cried at some point, Paula kissed Simon, Bo was very bouncy, Mikalah was ridiculous, and Fake Jesus was still all right with Scott?
Cardinale was on this show this one time, remember, and then Bo put a horrible hat on Paula as Matt Rogers rocked us from the second row, Bo's grandma was crazy, Constantine had a flair for drama and then went home and it was shocking and there were foreheads (enough with that already!) and he put on his distressed leather jacket and left the building, Scott looked like a shaved hamster, and had Paula's heart, Carrie signed her love to Anthony while making maxi-zoom-ugly crying faces, Anthony was dreamy, Carrie executed a much better kick than Constantine and did it while being sexy, and Vonzell lost her mind for a second for secret reasons?
Remember how Bo dressed like a total jackanapes a couple times, Carrie had a pretty smile that did not touch her eyes, which eyes then creepily stare out as her face morphs into Bo's, singing creepily and a cappella as the mothership descends and we all felt bad about ourselves for not being as amazing as Bo, and then they both smiled some more and Carrie wore a really fucking unflattering teal blouse and Bo hugged himself, and how George Huff has never gone one second without a huge smile on his face? Remember when Carrie and Bo smiled and giggled with each other? It's still happening. In the now.
Paula's holding Randy's hand on one side, and Simon's on her other side with his hand on her back, and she's messing with Simon's face as he tries to talk. This is why you don't do E, because you look like this, all touching each other and being creepy. Like Dracula's clench-jawed hos. Randy -- God, are they still not done talking? -- Randy says that this is the best season ever, but declines to give one damn piece of evidence that this is the case. Although for the record, I agree, mostly because the Top Twelve were such marketable characters -- just total fucking weirdos -- that it made it more like a gestural version of a soap opera. The ideas of these random and very specific, non-generic personalities, clashing and conquering each other each week. No actual drama, just the idea of drama. Like mythology or something.
Randy would like us to take note of how there's a "country girl" and a "southern rocker" up there. Making this the best season, because when was the last time the Final Two were from the South, right? Oh, what's that? They've all been from the South except for Justin? Is that right. Huh. Then why the fuck is Randy talking? He's getting on my nerves so bad tonight, you guys. Normally, you know, he's my Dawg, and I think he just does his thing and gets it done, you know, but tonight I'm just not feeling it. I'm just not feeling it, tonight. Tonight, ah, I don't know, something about it just, I don't know, I'm just not feeling it. Not feeling it tonight, Dawg.
Simon thanks America (Why, you're welcome!) for following his instructions to the letter, and at this Carrie giggles, and she and Bo grin at each other. Ryan tells us how last week "less than 2%" separated Bo and Carrie," meaning that "every single vote counts." He gives props and thanks to the band, which: yes. Constantine does an eggbeater dance he made up in the audience. God. Could you focus? We pull away on Seacrest and the Final Two in a very funny, animated conversation about something or another, as Nadia and Mikalah have a big conversation and are happy to see each other.