Setup: Mario Vazquez, Seacrest, and George Michael walk into a men's restroom
So Mario left the show Friday, ever so controversially, and with his complicity, the speculative inroads center mainly on: contractual cold feet, sexual ambiguity, unlikely baby mamas, and one truly bizarre scenario wherein Seacrest is somehow "coerced" into masturbating for Mario's enjoyment in a men's room. Patently neither true nor the slightest bit titillating, this last nonetheless remains: totally awesome.
Ryan will only tell us that everyone at AI wishes him the best of luck, and asks additionally that the forum posters at Television Without Pity calm the hell down, before giving us Theme One: the "Sixties," signifying: nothing. "The song you were gonna sing anyway, or something just like it."
Jessica is cute again, and sings "Shop Around," and by the Jessica standard, especially after last week, she's awful. The ending is one totally sad, misconceived, half-assed melisma into nowhere. Randy and Paula offer nothing (she's got a "cool vibe"), and Simon calls her boring and uninspiring.
Anwar finds the schmoopiest, puppy-doggiest song he can think of, "A House Is Not A Home," then sings said song in a schmoopy, puppy-dog manner while dressed as like a Neverwhere or Matrix extra. Randy + Paula = nothing, and Simon points out how Anwar always looks and sounds perfect, yet bores the shit out of everybody.
Mikalah sings "Son Of A Preacher Man" and looks prettier than ever, again, but is wearing Tank Girl and Bjork's last Stitch and Bitch project. Randy calls the song "rough," Paula welcomes back "goofy" Mikalah who sings like hell, and Simon says her "confidence has exceeded [her] ability," which is at once true, pithy, and hard to watch.
Constantine: I got nothing. I mean, "You Make Me So Very Happy"? I guess Bo a priori won the whole stupid "rocker" thing, so 2Cats now gets the fruity tunes he wanted to begin with. It's not great, because he's not that great, but it means way less of, e.g., that Tori Amos vowel torture he's so fond of, and the possibility of some nice big full scratchy legit notes, maybe. Then Ryan says some kind of bathroom stuff I don't get.
Lindsey sings "Knock On Wood." For the tenth and likely final time, that's not what your voice is for, Cardinale. Get your ass together. So dumb, too low for her good voice, again, and you can't hear her, again, and you don't so much want to, again. Randy tells her she sucks, Paula makes her say aloud that she sucks, and Simon tells her that America hates her and she sucks. She doesn't, but that's become this, like, arcane secret.
A-Fed sings "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do," which: ugh, but at least that unnaturally strong voice is still clear and real, he plays the camera all kick-ass cheesy, and ends on a pleasantly non-showy low, sustained pitch. Then the Capri Sun finally sets, as Randy calls it "bad hotel," Paula calls it pitchy, and Simon likens it to a Christmas party, so I guess they're done, and it's too bad, because he has my favorite voice, technically. I mean, it gave me nightmares I haven't had since the singing bellybuttons. But still.
Nadia intros "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" with how if she's going down this week, it's got to be with an awesome song. All the non-AI-fans in my hotel room fell silent almost at once, and remained so, which, to give you some perspective, only happens with this crew if, like, cops show up, or when Julie Cooper comes onscreen. Randy tells her the night's finally begun, Paula is smart about Nadia's "playing the game," and Simon calls everyone "hamburger" to Nadia's "steak." Blech.
Bo picks the trippy flavor his one song comes in, "Spinning Wheel," something's happened with the hair and it's on the road to recovery, and suddenly he's almost unbearably attractive, all over the set like a jungle gym with leather pants and clean hair, and I don't know what to do, but then he smiles, and I'm over it, and then everybody freaks out like in Beatles footage where they're going to vomit and lose consciousness and claw their own eyes out all at the exact same time.
Vonzell sings "Anyone Who Ever Had A Heart," and this is what my notes say: "Sexy!" "Awesome," what I think says, "Emotions! It's like a little story!" and then I just drew six little hearts in a row, I guess thinking that would suffice. But see, that's just how she is: undifferentiated nice feelings emanating at all times like the opposite of that gopher thing with the bad vibes coming out of it in the catalog. Randy calls it "ambitious," Paula calls her voice beautiful, and Vonzell a "perfect showman."
Let's all forget Scott Savol. For real. Great voice, got it, but every week, it becomes more obvious how untrained and imitative the whole deal really is, and I don't want to know. The voice is my Jordan Catalano, and every time it pops a mint or blinks out its Visine, it presents as the total slacker it really is, and my heart breaks. Go home! He sings "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" directly to Randy, who tells him it was "hot," and Paula and Simon just try to stay out of whatever the hell just happened.
Carrie sings "When Will I Be Loved" -- so very, very Carrie that why even bother? If you like her, it was just like that. If you hate her, it was just like that. Randy thought it was "very okay," Paula bitches at her for not taking risks and calls her "boring," and Simon lies and kisses her ass that she's in the Bo/Nadia league. From my notes, again: "Big boring stupid Carrie."
In the "Don't hate him because he's not Mario" spot, Nikko starts off really comfortable, all awesome voice and his whole thing where he can sing like a Jackson Five song ("I Want You Back"), and somehow makes it soundnot better? Just valid. Not karaoke. Systematically removing whatever it is that would cause the comparison to be made. Crowd loses marbles spectacularly, judges follow suit, and Simon dicks up a storm, insuring the votes he'll need to stay.
Review: Jessica utter disappointment, Anwar somehow both pushy and boring, that Mikalah stuff again, Constantine smarmy and confusing, Lindsey unmoving both as predicate and adjective, A-Fed done with, Nadia as usual, Bo still processing, Vonzell three blue hearts in hotel room ballpoint, Scott rad or whatever, Carrie Underwood was Carrie Underwood some more, and Nikko effing rocks. Tonight is results, which means eliminations, which kind of bums me out, which is in fact the troubling part. More so than the alleged stuff, in some ways. Maybe Amanda was right, and I've been in the trenches too long with these kids to take it lightly. Maybe I'm just exhausted from the alleged stuff. We'll see shortly.