The Actually Good: Patrick sings "Come To My Window," by noted Popular actress Tammy Lynn Michaels and originally performed by k.d. lang at FARM AID back in '85. Elliott sings "If You Really Love Me," by Stevie Wonder, and I have to say that I do hate to look at him. But he has one of the best voices in the competition, and I think the other stuff can be helped. Chris sings "Wanted Dead Or Alive" and sets your ass on fire and does an excellent, excellent job, with some bonus emotions and thoughts in his upside-down head. Oh, and the judges firing off anti-Constantine bitchery at an unbelievable rate was actually, really, very good for the soul.
The Good For Dumb Reasons: Gedeon sings "Shout," while doing creepy stripper moves. This is like a Paula Abdul favorite: "Shout! Yeah!" I love his voice, but he himself is deeply upsetting. Will Makar is very energetic and has a sweet, lovely tone with "I Want You Back," originally performed by Taye Diggs when he first split from 98 Degrees. Ace sings "Father Figure," which is horrific at first, to think about, but he works it out. I couldn't actually look at the screen because I was too embarrassed for him, but he has a great boy-band-ready voice. And all that that implies. I think I will have a lot of questions about this performance in the couple of days.
Over It: L'il David Radford sings "Crazy Little Thing Called Love," by original Stray Cats member David Setzer. It's a David retro-hipster thing, and I said it would be okay, but it's really, really not. It's smirky and insecure and even his beautiful smile seems pasted on. Sway sings "Reasons" (Yet More Sounds Of Blackness Reunion Tour DVD) like a pretty lady. With bad pitch. Where is my wonderful Sway voice? And I'm so fucking over Taylor Hicks. He sings "Levon" by noted songwriting duo Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, and does it really well, but I cannot stand him. Physically, how do you kiss your own ass? Plus, he looks and acts like a combination of an Adam Sandler character and Benny Hinn. I am so totally over it. Brenna is not the Mikalah. Taylor is the Mikalah. Simmer the fuck down! However, he does a great job.
What the Fuck: Is Bucky Covington even doing? It's not music. It's not singing, it's like the growling of an insane homeless mumbler. "Mmmshwangon gongongimmeadolrmaaan?" He is disgusting. I can't do this. Joe?
The Pointless: Kevin sings "One Last Cry," by Brian McKnight, but he does the Dr Teeth and the Electric Mayhem version. He's the strangest little thing. He sings like a Muppet and he has mushmouth. It sounds incredibly nervous and weird. Bobby sings "Copacabana" while looking like a total pervert toucher. It is a joke. What a weird night! Turns out I like Ace all right, hate this Bobby person, and kind of really want Kevin to stick around for a while.
When I hear that song? That American Idol song? My fingers go to the home row. Even when there is no keyboard nearby. I want you to really, honestly think about that for a second. So Ryan's suit is so intensely tailored that he looks like a sewing form, all shoulders and hips and girlish waist. Maybe it's just because he's standing at an odd angle, looking down at us from the balcony. It's weird either way. In the audience, in the first swooping shot in on the stage, there is a woman wearing a floor-length poncho/robe that looks like she might be a Heaven's Gate survivor. However, I cannot see her shoes, so I don't know for sure. Last night, the women sang, Mandisa and my girls Ayla and Katharine rocked out, and Stevie disappointed me so harshly that I can't even look her in the eye tonight.
The men file up the balcony stairs and across the screen, one after the other. There's friendly, intelligent Patrick, who waves and points slightly, like even he has forgotten who he is already. The camera pushes past him to get to David, who rubs his hands together like a gymnast and then waves sheepishly, all dimples and discomfort. Bucky points at the camera and winks or has a boss eye or maybe late-stage syphilitic dementia or maybe all of the above. Will Makar blows a self-consciously smirky kiss, but forgets to look into the camera. Sway is dressed like a pimp, not in the good way, and gives a double-thumbs up. The focus pulls back so you can see all of Chris, who makes a silly face and throws two sets of rock horns. Kevin walks stiffly, like he's had a hip injury. You know how the older people get, the more they look like babies? Maybe he's actually really, really old. Gedeon has but one thing to say as he winks and wriggles toward the camera, double-points, and winks again. Elliot's teeth are due to diabetes and not crystal meth as previously stated, and I am a jerk, but really, he should exfoliate anyway. Bobby makes a really bizarre face and points to the camera weirdly and has a sick moustache. The camera pulls further back so that Ace can make his grand entrance into your living room, hunkered down and longing for your gentle touch and whatever. Taylor has a fucking spasmodic fit like he's having a heart attack, this charmless blind Ray Charles smile, and then out of nowhere pitches left with the top half of his body, almost bonking his head on the doorway. No reason. No suddenly-appearing bees or wasps to avoid, no balcony-related mishap causing him to lose his balance. Just a sudden twist, to the side, like an idiot, because somewhere a camera was turned on. Have you noticed how utterly without affectation Taylor is? How really, really real and unique he is? Not yet? Don't worry, there's still time. Could you cut me a single break, Hicks?
From far away, ironically, he looks like Clay. From up close? He looks like a serial killer. The brilliant stylists have yet again managed to take a normal-looking person and turn him into a human giraffe. Although I cannot blame them for the breathy, strangely yelpy and forced voice at the beginning. I like it, I think, even with the stalker eyeballs, but I don't know if I'm responding to the voice or just the fact that he is kind of cool. He's good with the cameras. His neck is freakishly elongated by the cut of his jacket and sloping shoulders, and the necklace he's wearing goes way too low to help. He seems very comfortable and relaxed, but not in a good way -- more like he's done this a billion times. Maybe that's how his nerves work. It gets better and better the more it goes on, and by the end it's enjoyable. Lots of the women on the side seem to really like him. Then something amazing happens. And by amazing, I mean terrifying. Meet: "Patrick's Friends."
There's a man who looks like the evil patriarch in a soap opera, like the evil shadowy Alistair Crane kind. Or Ricardo Montalban. He looks like him, in a burnt-orange polar fleece about twenty-six years too young for him, under a gray suit jacket. You know the "Drink the tannis root" guys from Rosemary's Baby? He looks like them. There's a Devil's Advocate kind of vibe. Like there's creepy things afoot. Normally, that would be interesting. However, it is not really the central issue here -- more of a footnote. Because standing to the guy's left, your right, is someone who bears a striking resemblance to Amanda Lepore's grandmother. She's what's left of a pretty older woman with blonde hair and a minty jacket, almost entirely obscured behind a giant pair of freakishly distorted Botox lips. They are shiny and pink and disturbing in a visceral way. At a given moment in the song, the evil man tips his head back and licks his lips expectantly -- "Tsathoggua shall rise! Rise!" -- just as the woman creature widens her eyes and briefly opens her gaping maw, then raises her eyebrows freakishly and expectantly. It is...how do you end up with "friends" like this? Not just by being on the make. You have to be...you have to have made some seriously wrong choices to advance in the company of such...Patrick Hall is in league with dark powers, I think. Which is too bad, because I like him, but I've seen some of these underworld child bride deals and they never end well.
Randy likes his performing, and he's got a theory that Patrick's done "a thousand million" gigs, to which Patrick awkwardly agrees, but notes that it "started rough." Randy thinks back to when he was so good in Hollywood, but ultimately was glad he hit his stride relatively quickly. Paula remembers distinctly his performance of "If," which is a very pretty and very vapid Bread song. She tells him that giving people goosebumps is somehow his "niche" and that he should stick to the goosebumps genre, or whatever she thinks she's saying. The evil pair claps and looks bored in the audience, wondering why the moment of their demonic coronation has not yet appeared. Simon says it was a terrible song, and he and Patrick argue a few seconds before agreeing that it's a wonderful song, but maybe not the right one. Simon calls him "fidgety" and "anxious," and then says something interesting, which is that -- though Paula is right and it's a "beautiful" song -- Patrick seemed to be "missing [his] piano." Patrick agrees forcefully to this, and it puts kind of a whole different spin on the performance, because imagining him going all Hateful Gavin on it is pretty much amazing. Simon notes the lack of emotion and "star quality," despite a very nice voice. Paula gibbers for a second about the talent and history there and Simon gets all condescending: "It doesn't matter, because we're judging tonight, Paula," and she's justifiably proud and making a cool face as she reminds him that in fact, it's America that's judging tonight. Which, self-evident, but in the way he meant what he was just saying, was the smartest thing she could have said, because it shuts him down for a second. Ryan appears and brings up the "your niche is goosebumps" nonsense, and Patrick theorizes that this means he should do ballads. Ryan tells him seriously that it was good feedback and that he should be happy, and he smiles in a very charming fashion into the camera as they get cozy.
The heartbreaking David Radford, singing all Sinatra-esque in audition, being told that his tone is good but his performance is one-dimensional. By Paula Abdul. Then, in Hollywood, he ignored the advice entirely, and got the opposite feedback from Paula, who dances around like a freak while Randy told him it was "his vibe, his vibe, his vibe, dog." And tonight? Why, he'll do it all again, having learned absolutely nothing from the very unhelpful judges: "Just because I've been labeled as this crooner, so..." I will sing an obvious pastiche of the style, also written before I was born. Even if it's not actually from the actual songbook, it still smells the same: Queen's "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." Remember when there were fucking swing clubs everywhere with snoods and zoot suits and pretentious swing dancing and smoke in the air and stupid fucking martinis? David somehow does, even though that was in 1996 and he was...ten actual years old, if I'm doing the math right. So he can't be blamed for not knowing better back then, like everyone else involved should be, but still. Songs like this, Stray Cats, whatever else, it's all over to the exact same amount. Gap khakis and my fervent prayers killed it, Daddy-O.
He's wearing a very cute all-black outfit, pinstripes on the shirt, but he's twitching and making horrific faces -- sometimes the smirking of Elvis, sometimes the sneering of my loathed enemy Connick Jr. -- and like, he says "jellyfish," he's "shaking all over like a jellyfish," and when he sings this, he shakes all over like a damn jellyfish and it's so, so embarrassing, and this is the clip that they'll use at the end of the show and also tomorrow like a hundred times. Cut to some Adrian Tomine romantic ideal chick in the audience, dancing along. Oh! It's his mom that I'm so in love with! She looks great, she looks like she's about five years older than him. There's a drum breakdown that he does some cute pointy moves to, and then descends so low as to snap his fingers in the time with the music. You can briefly hear his actual voice for a second, his real non-fake voice, and it's nice, but he catches that shit and cuts it out immediately, because God forbid anybody should hear him actually singing instead of doing this crappy imitation. The choreography, the performance, are pretty flawless and awesome, and he's obviously practiced a bomb, but it's not really real in any way. Like he could be doing this dressed as a lady, and you'd be like, "Wow! Just like whoever!" only instead of some singer woman, it's Frank Sinatra, so it doesn't register as drag. That's the artifice here.
And Randy Jackson totally calls him on it, saying it was like he was back in high school in Baton Rouge and somebody asked for volunteers and somebody just stood up and acted out a whole Guys & Dolls kind of thing. Randy thought it was terrible, and not only for the fakeness but also because it was identical to the shit at the audition, and because the pitch kept changing. "We love you, but it wasn't good." Which is what I've been saying since day one. Both Heather and Melissa, the two brokedown stripper ho ones of the Top 12 Ladies, shout, "We love you, David!" Even Randy can't look at David's face as he says this, because David is so hurt by it. That part's pretty unfunny. ["Pfft. For you, maybe." -- Joe R] Paula jumps in there with some irrelevant bullshit about how "the Kitty Pound" loves David, and all the girls make a horrible Xena yipping sound and Ayla, Paris, and Katharine all bounce around with their paws up like poor dancing poodles. Like, spontaneously? God knows the ridiculous amounts of bullshit leading up to this particular "joke," but even Paula notices that this is not so "Kitty" and is more like "the Paula Poodle Pound." Which, if this shit goes on in any show beyond this one, I will sit down and I will write a letter. I'm not kidding. Paula "disagrees with Randy" and doesn't really qualify beyond that, but everybody cheers anyway. "You carried on who you are." No he didn't, because apparently there's no there, there. Yet. "You carried on your charisma." Yes, that he did. "True to who you are [lie], and that's important in this [huge fucking lie]."
David gives a sweet, shy smile at the conclusion of these lies. Simon said that originally they liked him because he did "this crooner thing" very well, but tonight was more like a joke. Having said that, though, he thinks "the audience at home" will like it. Which is not only way true, but the biggest dis on America since Scott Savol. Simon advises him to take himself "a bit more seriously moving forward," and to work on being really great, if this is his chosen style, because "it was a little bit like playing the fool tonight." He winks at Ryan as he approaches, and Ryan takes on the judges, asking if it isn't something of a fine line, if it isn't important that David have fun, but Simon says that if it's the first time we've seen him, that's less important than making the best possible impression. Ryan then just takes over explaining things to David, because David is great, all about how "this is something not many people can do," singing on the stage and getting shit-talked by the judges, and that "this is all part of the process, my friend," and it's very sweet. How sweet. David's twitchy and adorable and has a lot of emotions happening.
After the break, Bucky Covington, who winks gimpishly at the camera like three times, shuddering under the weight of all that filth, his eyes nearly sealed closed with the mucus of conjunctivitis or worse. Commercial for Aquamarine, which, based upon what we can glean from the ads, we're calling The Sisterhood Of The Traveling Whoremaid.
"Even though I'm a shallow Hollywood talking head," says Ryan, "I'm a man of my word. Here's Bucky." Sitting fastidiously a good twelve inches away from Bucky on the couch, Ryan tries to make small talk with Bucky along the lines about how he often forgets the lyrics to songs, because he reads at a second-grade level. Bucky responds, but I cannot for the life of me understand what he is saying, something about "Skynyrd" or "vittles," I think. There's a clip of him forgetting the words to a song in Hollywood, but, like, how would you know? He does have a lovely tone underneath all the Jacob repellent, though, and his smile is like the sun coming out. From behind a bombed-out abattoir, but still. He says...something else. About the dang ol' guitar, I think. Playing it, or...riding it to safety in an earthquake? That doesn't sound right. Something. It's good in a fight against the neighboring trailer park or he made it into the fucking hugest bong you ever saw or something.
He sings "Simple Man," a truly vacuous Lynyrd Skynyrd hymn to ignorance, all growly, very Three Doors Down-ly, and his hair has a lot of junk in it. He's oh so real! In the audience behind David's parents are two women with extremely high foreheads and processed, thin, falling-out hair, and weathered, worn-out faces. They are wearing "I Heart Bucky" t-shirts, letters sloppily hand-applied around their plunging necklines. Without a beer in their hands, they look naked. The Radfords are unamused by all this. The song is very repetitive, it's like the same six bars over and over, followed by some squatting. He sounds -- at the risk of sounding indelicate; I think this is the first time I've ever typed anything like this with my fingers -- like a gym coach or trucker taking a dump. Yeah. Not pretty. Pitch doesn't really apply, because that's not the point, but he doesn't growl any kind of in tune, and then looks sincerely and stupidly in to the camera.
Randy admits to being a Lynyrd Skynyrd fan as well, and cautions Bucky not to strain and push his voice so much -- he notes that this caused him to go sharp a few times. He tells Bucky he has a nice tone and a good voice, but wonders if he weren't previously "a little more country than that." Bucky replies in some way and at length. Paula agrees that it was a good song choice -- it was -- but there were some off parts. "It's a journey" for Bucky, she says, which is intriguing in that this is equally true for all of them on the show, and also everybody ever. Simon says he did a great deal better with the band, which is quite true and surprising, and that Bucky is just "very raw." He then says, quote, "We've got a lot of so-called rockers on the show, and then you find out they've been performing at weddings all their life. You know, [wearing] a leather jacket." Even Bucky smiles and laughs cutely, because he has no idea what Simon is talking about, and if you're a Constantine fan, you probably don't either. Simon goes on to state, however, that "There are thousands of bars you'll find somebody like Bucky, just doing their stuff..." and then Paula and Randy interrupt him, yelling nothing in particular, as they've always done and do more each year as they become cartoons. Randy points out that he should know, because he was once a gig musician in tight purple spandex.
Ryan shakes Bucky's hand fastidiously, then steps way back to talk to him from the other side of the stage. He asks Bucky who first "persuaded" him to audition. Bucky replies somehow, I think having to do with Bo Bice, but that's me making assumptions. Ryan then offers his soul directly on the AI altar: "This is a real guy right here, know what I mean? Unaffected and real -- there's nothing Hollywood about Bucky, ladies and gentlemen. We'll see how you change soon -- your hair'll be spiked!" The fact that he was fed that line doesn't make it any more icky. Ryan touches him gingerly at the exactly point of his back where the shirt doesn't touch Bucky in any way. Bucky is a blinker. Light sensitivity is a sign of amphetamine abuse and also sometimes inbreeding.
Ryan calls attention to Will Makar's "look of shock and awe" last week when he learned he made it through. "I was just so excited!" They both geek out and yell gibberish. Ryan is affectionate and tells him to take a deep breath. (Anna: "Remember how I said if I had a son, I would want him to be gay?" Jacob: "Hush.") From eight years old watching television, Will has wanted to sing "I Want You Back" by the Jackson Five. "Here I am eight years later, performing for millions of people, you know," fake laugh, "it's amazing." Onstage, he's got moves. He's so, so funny. I hope he sticks around for a million years. It's like watching your kid dancing around and singing on television -- there's a pride. The backdrop is many different flavors of NyQuil, like just this kid isn't Paula-mesmerizing enough, and he makes some strange faces. Down in Suffragette City, Kellie Pickler is rocking out. It's totally sweet, and bland, and funny. Did you ever want to watch, like, old Star Search, just for the cheesiness? That would be so much fun. This year is like that -- like half of it is little kids acting all JonBenet, and the other half is elderly Bo Bice clones. Will blows a kiss to the Pick and everybody giggles and shit. I don't know how you sing this song with a straight face.
Randy likes how Will danced his own way instead of trying to dance like Michael Jackson, but thinks it was very entertaining. Paula says he was adorable and that every high school girl in the country will be quite pleased. (Will Makar: "Woo.") She compares him to Bobby Brady for some reason, even though Bobby Brady was never really that cute and she actually I think means Peter anyway, but it "brought [her] back," and was "very vintage." I don't even know about her tonight. Simon says, "Okay. Reality check." Paula and the crowd are already set to boo him, irritatingly. "You are a nice-looking kid, you're cute, enthusiastic. Unfortunately, vocally it was completely and utterly average. No one is going to listen back to that and go, wow." He's right, but who the hell thinks that was the point? Paula is wrong, but by being right: "What do you think, girls?" There are tiny little fists in the air. Simon, awesomely: "You are being patronized." So good. Randy notes that he "sang in tune," but Simon points out the actual thing at stake is for "somebody great" to win, and that was an average performance. Vocally, it was. Quite pleasant, but there weren't exactly goosebumps. Randy admits that it was "pleasant," and Ryan freaks out on Simon on Will's behalf. What is going on with them tonight? He begs Simon to consider the fact that this is the "beginning of this level" of the competition, and that Will has "likeability." Simon nods, and Ryan comforts him that this will be good enough for now. Will says that Simon is "going to have a good time later," then corrects himself: "Uh, sooner or later." Heh. Did you see that Oprah where the kid was "accidentally" running this huge porn business out of his house with his family never catching on? That kid's like my hero. "Oh, I got caught? I was totally being exploited, is why!" He even fooled Oprah herself!
Until this very night, Sway had this awesome voice. He tells us that "Reasons," by Earth Wind and Fire, was a song that his parents loved with they were dating, and they used to sing him to sleep with it. He is wearing a white fedora and purple velvet jacket. He looks like the most misguided pimp in the world. There is falsetto at the beginning, which will be nice when it goes away. Which it never does. (Anna: "He looks like The Mask. He's singing like a complicated Jim Carrey joke nobody will get." Jacob: "Also like shit.") It just get worse and worse and worse. How can you even try this if you're going to fuck it up? He hits one screeching, pure, and awesome note at the end, but who cares? Paula. Paula will care. He sounds like hell. The whole point of doing tricks like this is to show off your extraordinary control, which is something that he does not have. He and Stevie switched songs or something.
Randy yells how "We got a hot one tonight!" He says Sway "did it proud" and that once he came down to his "natural" -- which he did for less than three bars, which was more along the lines of "a relief" and less like "an amazing revelation" -- he showed his range and originality. He congratulates him, and then Paula tells him he was "truly amazing," and then praises him, of course, for the big showy scream note at the end. Somehow, she says this proves that he knows who he really is, how good he is, and how he deserves to "be on that stage." Which are things I totally thought until tonight. Simon wows himself with how different his opinions are from Randy and Paula's this evening, because he found it to he a "pimpy, third-rate copy of Earth Wind and Fire." Randy and Paula bitch boringly about how important it was that he even tried, and Paula overrules Simon by yelling, "See you week, see you week," and Simon demonstrates his disinterest by just dropping it altogether. Ryan jokes that the song -- which he screeched and whistled through -- seems inappropriate for a lullaby, and Sway's adorable parents giggle. Where is his good voice? Why his he dressed like that? He's even shorter than Ryan. This is like Bugsy Malone but with more ladylike screaming.
It wouldn't be a show without a plug for the website, but could there be anything more awkward than suggesting that "rocker Chris" -- who's gonna be on AOL if anything -- might be "hanging out" there? That's such a radio DJ kind of segue. Even Ryan is both bored by, and affectionate towards, Chris, in what would seem to be identical amounts to yours truly. Simon and I agree that there's "not a hell of a lot of charisma here," but man, his voice is so nice to listen to. There's fire on the backdrop as we intro "Wanted Dead or Alive," Bon Jovi, a good but not their best song ("Living On A Prayer"), which he rocks out on. He's wearing a "real" outfit -- black shirt, fucking bike chain necklace, expensive jeans -- and it occurs to me that between the "real" folks and the little kids and the ringers and the cannon fodder, there's not really anyone that suspenseful in the entire cast of 24. His voice sounds very nice, very professional and practiced, and I don't understand why he's not already doing the music thing. How can AI possibly help him? Is he just lazy? It's a weird detour for someone so practiced and good. Don't let them do to you what they did to Bo, dude! Run! The sleeper hottie threat matrix updates itself from blue to dark green at some point during this episode. But as nice as the voice is, if anything he needs to go off and develop even more in his own direction. Hetfield's in there, a little bit of whoever, Layne, there's serious straight-up Vedder vibrato among all the other things about his whole crazy quilt of a voice. I think it's a maturity issue, but he's already so close to being there. He looks into the camera and licks his lips. Sideburns. All he is has is sideburns now. ["Sideburns that closely resemble various weapons from Elektra, if I'm not mistaken." -- Joe R]
Randy says he was really interested in finding out what Chris was going to sing, and found him to be "very current." Is it 1994 already? Randy says he has a "great recording voice" and that it was "hot." Cut to Chris's "friends" in the audience, who seem to be secretaries all. Paula speaks. Here we go. Verbatim: "Every from the your stance from the moment you opened up your mouth from the confidence of just standing there in front of the microphone spot on your artistry what you pick to sing is as if you've been doing it for the longest time you've are going to go all the way." Simon says, "Did you like it?" and I wonder if he's even joking. Simon says it was a "good choice of song, very very good," and says it's the first time tonight he's heard "somebody with potential." Word, even if he has no business being there. The secretaries go nuts. Simon says that the song choices are funny because "the lead singers, they had charisma," and repeats about the great recording voice. He requests, again, more charisma, but admits that it was superb. Ryan appears and gets gay some more: "Isn't that cute? Simon's starting to go the happy place! We're seeing it! It's coooooooming..." Chris is like, "Leave me out of it, dude." Ryan asks if he didn't play it just a little safe, and Chris admits to sticking pretty close to the original melodies. "I can see where they're coming from -- I can do that," he agrees graciously. Ryan fawns all over him, and acts weird about Simon's "happy place" some more. We don't want to know, man. "Good work, my man," butches Ryan all of a sudden, and Chris suddenly notices he's standing there.
Commercial for She's The Man, in which Amanda Bynes appears as a boy, in a college sweatshirt that says Illyria. I might be having a stroke or something. The Sisterhood Of The Traveling Dickpiece.
Oh, I totally am having a stroke. It's Kevin Covais (which he pronounces, by the way, to rhyme with "Don't Say This," and not "Freebase," or even "Rosé"), who will be singing Brian McKnight's "One Last Cry." Ryan points down at the Kitty Pound, noting that "two of those fine women will be leaving," and Stevie shrugs. Kevin is off doing something with a production person, and Ryan calls him over and notes how he and Will are both 16, but Kevin's "a little younger." By "a little," we mean here, "somehow years." Kevin says that "age isn't anything but a number," and Ryan looks at the camera and expressly does not mention Corey Clark. Kevin is a very, very cute and a very strange little person. He sings funny and makes funny, cute faces. He should sing in the mirror. "After Paula's comments," he tells us, "I was quietly confident." Cut to him in the Hollywood Chair, white as a sheet and blinking owlishly. He delivers everything like an oral report nobody's buying, and refers to himself as a "fellow." So awesome. Onstage, he starts off-key, but gets there quickly. He blinks on every single word, and it's very cute. Star Search again. I don't get that. Didn't they cancel the kid version? Are these all kids from that show that got shifted over? Mrs. Covais starts crying immediately. The entirety of Suffragette City stand up and dance, except for Katharine, who's having a mic issue that involves putting her hands all over herself at just the wrong moment. Kevin sings very intensely -- it's almost as though he knows what the words mean. In twenty years he will look EXACTLY like an ex of mine. That's weird. But good for Kevin. I think that Kevin and Brenna are the same amount of genius and the same amount of at a loss about it, but they are dealing in very different ways.
Randy says he's an "honestly talented, honest real kid," and tells him in confidence that it was "the bomb, man!" He gives a very upstanding thanks for this, and Paula gets all creepy with her "We have an understanding," and she tells him, "You make me beam." He has no "arrogance," true, and has instead "reckless abandon," very not true. The opposite of true. "You're a sheer joy -- you know what, you're an awesome kid and I'm very proud of you." He's so, so adorable, but like, what the fuck does this have to do with singing? Again, she's right by being wrong: nobody voted for him because his voice blew them so terribly away, they voted for him because he's cute. Simon looks at Randy and Simon tells him to shut up, and then apologizes to America for what he's about to say. "That would appeal to anyone over the age of ninety, who was hard of hearing. I'm not going to patronize you because of your age, Kevin," and Kevin's down with that, "[But] vocally it was verging on excruciating." Which, yes, because it was a little kid singing well, not a mature singer singing well, and if you heard it and didn't know what you were looking it, you'd think: kid singing. But Simon's wrong by being right, because that is totally not the point of the show. Ryan makes Kevin ask Simon his question: "Don't you think you're being a little extreme, just to get a rise out of the audience?" Which ... gets a rise out of the audience. This is such a fucking carnival.
"There was no one more nervous in the studio than your father," says Ryan, "I've never seen that color red before!" The crowd goes nuts cheering, for some reason that I defy you to explain to me, and Kevin smiles into the camera looking exactly like Picture Day. All the Paula Poodle Pound giggle suddenly, as if on cue, and Ryan asks why, as if on cue. They all pinch their personal cheeks, as if on cue. What does this have to do with American Idol? Ryan sends Kevin off to be pinched by the ladies, and Kellie throws herself on him. It's so sweet and barfy. I think that Kevin has an outsize sense of humor which makes him awesomely up for this. But see, it's not a valid long-term goal to suck the ratings teat like this, because eventually, he will get cut. He's not going to win. His intensely HGH-denied existence is as much a gimmick as David's croony thing or Bucky's inbred thing. It's not the American Idol. And on that day, you know what's going to happen. It's not going to go well. It's going to be awful, in fact, because he's going to cry, and then I'm going to cry, and it's going to be stupid, and we're already doing something stupid. And that's why I can't make too much fun of him, but I can hope that it happens before the Top 12 -- I'm pretty sure it will unless the Forrest Gump/When Harry Met Sally contingent is turning out in the kind of numbers that kept A-Fed going strong forever, and got Carrie the win. I hope it does, in a group of four losers, instead of him getting eliminated all by himself for an entire half hour including tear-stained singout. Too, too ugly.
Gedeon: looks like a cartoon character, but I think I have figured out at least the majority of the reason I like him so much: I like that he looks and sings like nothing I've ever seen before, but he talks exactly like Rebecca from The Apprentice. Exactly. "I will be singing 'Shout,' Mr. Trump. 'Shout' was a very big hit in the late '50s and early '60s, Mr. Trump, and it is a song that is still rolling. It is still putting people right up on their feet as soon as they hear it, Mr. Trump. It's not a song that I can just sing" -- WORD -- "but I can also really, really perform. Even with an injured ankle, I can step up and perform this song, Mr. Trump." He gives a huge grin -- huge, like a flip-top head huge, like if you looked in you could see the history of humanity. Like if you dropped a quarter into his mouth you'd never hear it hit. Every time sings about "kick my heels up," he kicks up his knee instead. It's notable and kind of irritating, because he does it every time, and you know, the song basically consists of that one line over and over. ["It's totally not a real song. It's for commercials and sporting events and local car dealership blowout savings events. You should have to sing an actual song, not, like, the 'Rice-a-Roni' jingle." -- Joe R] The backup singers are awesome, and Gedeon is -- this may have been mentioned before -- completely insane, so it's a good show. But it's a show that has nothing to do with what we're watching. There's a trend here. The entire deck is so stacked that you'll pull an Ace no matter who shuffles. He does all kinds of movements and then makes David Alan Grier faces for a while, but this isn't sketch comedy -- it's real life. His hips go completely crazy and his face is made of rubber and then, in the slower part of the song, he involves himself in some really creepy stripper moves. I wish it would stop. The song starts up again, and again with the knee, and his smile getting wilder and scarier. The guys on the balcony are bored due to the extreme length of this performance, but I think the girls are having fun due to the sing-along aspect of the song. Dude, this is such a Paula song. Afterwards, he looks pretty intense for a second, then back to crazy smiling.
Which he does well. He starts out at the rock-bottom of his register, and it's rough and kind of ridiculous, but he heads up almost immediately, and gets to the point, which is the lovely tone and his pretty good control. The slow part of the song is very nice, and in the Kitty Pound Lisa Tucker holds out her hands and Kat and Paris rock out. The crowd gets moderately excited. Becky and Stevie dance around in the exact same way, self-consciously with a lot of hair, but again, Stevie's not so creepy when she does it. You can hear a little bit of Elliott's technique, in the bad way -- those runs that get caught up on their own feet and the transition between the notes stops and starts -- but overall it's great.
Randy admits that "trying to sing Stevie is really hard," but that it was overall brilliant. "Mariah and I talk about this all the time -- if you've really got it you've got it." I'm positive that conversations with Mariah Carey are just like that, just throwing out pithy truisms and saying that stuff is like, a stellar pip collabo and things of that nature, bing bong boo and what it was like at Oprah's garden party last week. Randy, did Mariah tell you why her head shrunk? Randy says it was "hot" tonight, and the crowd cheers. Paula calls his performance "effortless, you just have fun, you're infectious," and he smiles sweetly at her. Simon scares Elliott by beginning, "Elliott." But then blows the roof off: "In five seasons, I think potentially you are the best male vocalist we've ever had." And that's all he has to say. That's so nice. Down in the crowd, Elliott's brother makes Elliott look like a sex bomb by comparison. Ryan wipes his brow and talks about how sweaty and soaked Elliott is, and Elliott's a good sport about it, but I think he doesn't want to talk about it, possibly because it's a diabetic thing. Which Ryan should really know. "Glad I could come out and do my best," Elliott says, but is otherwise speechless after Simon's amazing praise. They talk about the surreality of Simon saying that shit, what it's like to have watched the show from home, come onstage and done the song, and after all that, get such kudos from Simon. He pinches himself all over and laughs very likeably. Ryan surmises that the Kitty Pound is willing to pinch him, and completely off the cuff he murmurs, "We'll get into that a little later." Whoa! Ryan joggles him all over while saying the number and it's all very cute.
Bobby burps his way through his intro video. We see his ridiculous audition, and Simon telling him that when he performs he sounds drunk, and then Paula and Randy put him through because he's got a good voice. Which I guess is possible, but we'll never actually hear it, because Bobby is an elaborate joke on us all. Again. That's, what, at least half of them? Bobby's grandmother once asked him to sing "Copacabana," by Barry Manilow, and he's chosen tonight to do that shit. Why? This is stupid. He comes twirling onto the stage with a pervert moustache, and his eyebrows going wild, and the smile of a creepy, creepy man. Procurer. The guy from Cabaret, that face. He sounds ridiculous, looks like the scariest axe murderer in the world, and he moves and bows and delivers it exactly like the Mayor of Munchkinland, or Halloweentown. It's been killing me, but that's exactly it. He has this huge shit-eating grin the whole time, and with the moustache his eyes look incredibly sinister. He's like a guy in a movie that you think is going to give the hero the last microchip but you find out at the end that he was running the game all along and whatever. He stabs you. It's really weird. He looks like he'll offer to sell you China White or a baby. However, he is a really smart guy, I think, seems to be totally nice, and has a good sense of humor. Possibly, as I said, bigger than all of ours. (Anna, within the first five seconds: "I hope he stays forever.") He ends it with head thrown back, arms thrown back, beaming.
Randy attempts to tell us what's "funny" about Bobby. I don't think he's going to be able to do that. He says it was like "watching somebody from a whole different era." Yeah, he would not look out of place with a ventriloquist's doll. Randy says he's a "really good entertainer" but lacked vocally, "a little bit, here or there." It was more entertaining than, say...good. Bobby responds to every single question or comment with an irrelevant fact about Barry Manilow, which is awesome. Paula applauds his "entertainment value" and "showmanship value," but thinks the whole thing is "risky." If by risky you mean homebound, Paula, I agree. She takes her hat off for him, and loves that he "commit[s] with passion." She says she'd even enjoy "Old MacDonald Had A Freakin' Farm" if it was performed in such an outré, hysterical, pointless, showy, unsubtle, obnoxious manner. That's just how she rolls. No wonder she loves Taylor Hicks so much. Simon admits, as I do, that Bobby is awesome, but has to tell everybody that the performance itself was a "complete nightmare." Simon worries that there are people out there who will think the show has gone off its rockers. "Seriously, they must think we've gone completely insane." I am one of those people, but it's not limited to Bobby. David's a joke, Gedeon's a joke, Bobby's like a joke on that joke, and I don't know what the hell is up with Taylor and Bucky, because they're not funny, but they're not on the up-and-up either. Simon agrees with Randy on the "entertainment" stuff, but he's also entertained by horror films, "you know?" In this situation, the Final 12, it was "a nightmare." Not a nightmare, but just pointless. Randy, again not getting it, asks if he's comparing Bobby to a horror film. The answer is yes, kind of, but Simon ignores it.
Ryan brings Bobby a napkin for the flop sweat, and again tries to start shit with Simon. "If he tries to improve on something to get a little better, what can he do? What advice would you give him?" Simon's like, "How long have I got?" And he's right, because this whole thing is a joke, so it's not like Bobby can brush up on things. "Start singing like there's a fucking reason you're here" is a bit far-flung in terms of criticism. Ryan presses the question and Simon turns it around on him, but Ryan opts out because he's not a judge, but if asked, he fairly spits, he'd say that this is "early on in the competition," and "nobody's going to be perfect, nobody's going to be the Idol at this stage," and that they all deserve "a little bit of constructive criticism," but Simon's bored by this. Ryan's wrong by being right, again, because in this particular situation, there's no way to make Bobby better, because he has no business being here and he knows it. So all this righteous anger -- and damn, he gets angry with Simon here, again -- is pretty misplaced. "Ryan, with respect, I do this for a living. I don't play at it like you do." Unfair, but Ryan's trying to put Simon on the moral low ground by making this some kind of overarching issue, when the fact is that the judges do give specific criticism, when it's warranted. Ryan completely shuts down and just shoots death glares. Randy and Paula talk about how, once, Simon loved Bobby -- which is true because he's great, not because he has any talent for this show -- and Simon admits he can't even remember why they would think that. Ryan looks directly at the camera, still pissed, and Simon glances up at him briefly and looks away, chin in his hand. For whatever reason, things are uglier tonight on the Simon/Ryan front than they've ever been, and it's fascinating. Ryan spits at the camera and gets almost halfway through the "Vote for Bobby" spiel before getting his smile back. Bobby hugs all up on him and they squeeze, while up on the balcony, Ace is looking a whole lot like Nermal.
On the balcony, Taylor Hicks loses his fucking equilibrium some more. Isn't he just so cute? Isn't he an original? Don't you wish he would date you? I love guys that can't keep their shit together for more than five seconds in front of a camera! I love social disorders. They're so cute. So original! I wonder if he has any inventions to patent? Commercials. Every time I see an ad for the Pink Panther movie it's like I'm being shocked for the first time that it's actually a thing. It's like seeing a unicorn, but with only three legs. Taylor Hicks is like that too.
Coming back, Ryan has finally regained his giggly composure, so that's good. Taylor spazzes out about how he has Jay Leno's hair but not his chin, and Ryan plays along with his antics. I can't wait for that to go south, once they all realize Brenna's a pussycat compared to the giant bag of bullshit Hicks is schlepping. Where is the actual Taylor Hicks in this? I don't get who he is at all. "Inner ear disorder" does not equal "personality." Over the highlights of Taylor's journey, he tells us how the walk to the Hollywood Chair "seemed like the longest walk in history." It fucking was, thanks to your harmonica and showboating. He's chosen to sing "Levon," by Elton John and Bernie Taupin (who gets a well-deserved shout-out), because "it possesses family values." You lost me there, in a big way. Just because it fucking mentions the name "Jesus" does not mean it has "family values," and I have no idea what you even fucking mean like that anyway, but "Levon" is a song about a vet who's crushed by his familial obligations and eventually loses any kind of valid communication with his kid and dies alone with only his money for company. That's actually all the song "possesses": bummer values. Much like the entire album. On the other hand, he's right by being wrong, because if he's blinded by the "Jesus" and "God" references -- and he actually knows the words to the damn song -- it's a fine bet the voters will be too. Scoring him low on "reading comprehension" but pretty damn high on "cynicality."
He hunches over ridiculously and sings the song. This is the weirdest fucking season of this show ever. I don't get it. Remember when they were pretty and dumb and didn't all have syndromes? Remember when their quirks were secondary to their carefully-packaged image? When did that change? Will has no idea what he's doing, trying to dance around on the balcony. He thinks the big part is coming in like eleven times before it actually does. Taylor Hicks has an amazing, beautiful voice. But he wriggles around weirdly and whatever, and smiles ferociously as he's singing, and I think he's gotten fatter, and he looks like a drunk lawyer at a barbecue when he sings. Paris screams "Baby!" at him while he's singing. At the end, he reverts back to the dorky smile and wiggling all around like a palsied cocker spaniel with his eyes closed and screaming "Woo!" for no reason. Seriously. What is the deal?
Randy calls him an original, but wonders if it's a great song choice because it doesn't really show how talented he is, vocally. On the other hand, he did a great job singing a song not written by someone with an adjective and body part for a first and middle name, like Blind Gums Murphy or Egg-Sucking Peabody or whatever, so it shows he's not a one-trick pony, David Radford. Randy makes the biggest mistake of his life when he tells Taylor it was "hot" when he walked in that time playing a "harp" -- year's auditions, one hundred harmonicas. Harps and scooters for miles around. Like half the Top 24 this year aren't Bo's fault anyway. Look at Heather. Paula loses it and asks the producers if they can't have more than six guys in the Top 12 this year, because there's nobody like him in the entire world. But, like, it seems like she just said he was going home some time soon, and I sadly do not think that's likely. She surely could not have meant there were more than six valid performers in this clown troupe. Who knows.