Top Nine: You Botoxed Kenny! You Bastards!

Tuesday

Ryan's back in the Brightside black-and-whites, with some aggressive scrubble on his little chin. You know, I love Ryan, but it's hard to think of him as a boy or attractive in the conventional sense -- but darn, he looks nice this week. A lot of people seem to find it laughable, but like, the dude's pushing 60, I think, so it's nice for him took like something other than a mid-'50s cleaning product mascot. I mean, he still looks like everybody's mom's favorite costume fallback, Halloween Hobo, but at least it's the kind that looks fantastic, and I'm happy for him. Keep the beard! (Heh.) Ryan tells us that we're live, and that the week's theme is country. Which is exciting in that I am really freaked out by the awesomeness of Bucky Covington, and this week will probably prove to be no exception. And who better, Ryan wonders, to usher in tonight's irritating festivities, than one Mr. Kenny Rogers? He then goes on at length about Kenny Rogers, but the person we'll see tonight is...not Kenny Rogers. I don't know whose palm got greased for this shit, but whoever they're trying to pass off as Kenny Rogers, I'm not impressed. Or maybe I'm just confused about who Kenny Rogers is? Because I thought he looked like a truck driver, whereas the person we see tonight looks like he owns an antiques 'n' sundries store somewhere in the Valley. He looks like my grandma, but with a goatee. Mystic Tan. Something kind of overripe and Eric Roberts-y about the face. That burnt-looking chemical-peel skin, with the baby eyes blinking...he looks nice, for a type, and he's got the lovely white hair, but if you told me this was Merv Griffin I wouldn't be surprised. And considering he seems to spend the entire two days trying to bed Ace Young, it would be a tight fit.

It's all very Hollywood, Kenny's look these days, and we get a short shot of him singing the gambling song with the kids -- Bucky playing guitar and on the edge of exploding with glee -- before we're in the thick of things. We cut to Kenny's clips with, and about, Taylor. Whom Kenny seems to think sucks. Basically, Kenny says, if he can "make the song his" and "make it feel important," he'll be okay. But that's not what Taylor does. It's hard to take anything seriously, hard to feel "important" about a song, when the person singing it is twitching and wriggling -- or, as this week, singing it from the fetal position.

Paris is dressed like The Highwayman. She and Ryan discuss her hairstyle, because it's Ryan, and she hits a glancing blow against how she's somehow "inspired by the songs," or something, before she tries to launch into that same "I express myself through fashion" diatribe about her thousands of alter egos and personalities that she keeps trying to give every week, because the time she completed it was the last week she was relevant. The Kenny segment is really cool, because she's so skilled that he doesn't even get nebulous with her, that we see -- just launches into technical stuff about specific lyrics and phrasing and points in the song. I'd like to see more of that. Also the pianist is smokin' hot for this segment with Kenny. I love how good Paris is at singing. I wish I could remember her without having to look at a list. She's like the Nikko. "Eight, I got eight. Who's left? How many girls?" Okay, that's a lie. I can't remember more than three of them without a list.

She sings "How Do I Live Without You," but thanks to wardrobe, it's like if Tom Cruise were singing to you from inside the film Legend. Which: weird, but she really does just have the best voice, even tiny pitch issues and stuff, it's just obvious how powerful it is. One day soon she'll go through her Xtina phase and then develop a cool personality to go with that voice, perhaps. Handlers are good and bad at once. Hopefully she'll have the grace to go through the dirty ugly part of her transformation out of the public eye, maybe in India like Alanis Morissette.

Her last big giant note is weird, and she pronounces the word "live" strangely, but it's good. I liked this performance. I don't know. It's not amazing, but the song is so played out I don't know how you could knock my socks off. Maybe if Mandisa had done it, instead. They should have switched songs! They would have rocked each other's songs! That's what went wrong this week. Among...oh, everything. Right.

Her incredible family bounces around. Randy is wearing a crazy red vest, I need to tell you that. He looks like a community theater company member for A Christmas Carol, or The Nutcracker. He tells her that "great melodies are hard to sing," and refers one of many times tonight to "the front part" of the song, which was rough. Which I admit it was. He calls "just fine," and Paula...calls attention to Paris's "powerhouse voice," and says she didn't connect with the song -- it was "kind of a struggle," and there was "no joy." She tells Paris to resume owning the stage week like she usually does. I agree with all of that -- I liked the performance, but it wasn't a Paris performance, just better than most everybody else. Is that the harshest Paula's ever been? From the studio reaction, which is intense booing, I believe an AI first, I guess so. Paris and Paula laugh together about the screeching.

So but don't we all kind of want to put Ace up in a great condo, and all that implies? (Anna also liberally quotes Rhinestone Cowboy, and Rosemary's Baby, but only the former applies this week.) Ace sings a Keith Urban song about crying. I am not ashamed to admit that I've never even heard of this person, even though something like 20 out of nine Idols sings his songs this week. I could just kick myself for not being up on the current country scene! I can tell you, though, that he's sitting on a stool, wearing all black, and that should tell you all you need to know. He's not incredibly nasal...oh wait, there it is. Man. Here are some Ace notes: "He is kind of like Fievel in his late teens in many ways, which explains the whole 'Father Figure' thing not being creepy." Also: "Finding out that Ace's demos are all Timberlake-style R&B Road To Stardom things makes him okay for me." And I do mean that. Knowing he's that kind of thing, and not this kind of thing, really makes me root for him. That's like an entire universe over from the bullshit skill set of this show. While he sings, the judges all stare at each other and chat with each other, because it's boring, and then at the end he does a whole Bedingfield-inspired (see?) pretty mess of whining and nose-moaning. In the audience there are women with hips cheering sullenly, and behind them and their insolent swaying, there is what looks like a housepainting drip-pan crudely decorated with a "Marry Me, Ace!"

Randy says that...at least there was falsetto. I'm serious, that's what he says. Paula disagrees, and they get into a fight about the degree to which Ace was stultifying this week. It's brutal and awesome. She drunkenly argues something about how falsetto is "Ace's signature" and that it was a "contemporary take" on what I'm guessing is a fairly recent song, and we get a shot of his disgusting Jared Leto brother in the crowd, and Simon says that after the last few weeks Ace has finally picked the right song. Ryan tells us that Ace is "officially" single -- um, aren't we all? -- just in case we had stopped thinking he was in love with us anytime recently, and Ace stares stupidly into the camera with a cheesy smile and the look of one who has been beaten on the streets every day of his young life.

Kellie says some shit to Ryan in a spot-on Anna Nicole, like she's daring him to still get pissed at her for being an idiot, and Ryan asks her to "clear this up": some naysayers are saying that nobody this stupid could possibly live past their first experience with automobiles driving by, or the ever-present danger of hot stoves and common household chemicals, or having to remember to inhale and exhale every few seconds, and that her "navet is a bit of an act." He asks her to bottom-line, for him, exactly how fucking stupid she actually is. This makes me weep. I don't mind her, I like her singing and I think she's an okay girl, and what they are doing is...everybody likes I Dream Of Jeannie as long as they can forget what's actually going on, and this continual pushing the short-bus button w/r/t Kellie is really...I don't know on whose account I am incensed, but I know I'm insulted and not just on my own behalf. She repeats that she has no idea what calamari is, and they redux that whole bag of bullshit, the whole fucking act repeated for you to know that yes, she's just as -- and it would seem -- stupid and fake as we've agreed to believe, maybe more so. Ryan's like, "This busted, stupid creature is the real you?" And she...agrees. She says her friends would be willing to testify that she's a moron, and Ryan goes, "...Be proud of that." Because if there's one thing he -- and Kellie Ripa, and Eva Longoria, and every other blonde woman in entertainment stretching back fifty years, with the notable exception of Heather Locklear -- knows, it's that you can get a lot farther pretending to be fifteen times stupider than you are. I'm not that hot, and I do it. It's the smartest thing.

So Kellie hugs Kenny and babbles at him and he thinks she's charming, whatever, after Ace he's pretty much shot his wad, so to speak, and then...SHE'S SINGING "FANCY"! FUCK YEAH! Kenny (hilariously) says that the song is "perfect for her," because it's what she's all about. You know about me and "Fancy," right? Because it forms the basis of like 30% of my personal philosophy. And is a kick-ass song besides. It was the Bobbie Gentry follow-up to "Ode To Billy Joe," later covered by my girl Reba, but I find that the Gentry connection puts the whole thing into perspective for me, personally: Whore it up, let them win...and if they don't give in, toss 'em off a bridge. Fuck it. I love that. So Kellie gets the Daughtry Treatment this week, sauntering out of the crowd with her mic, stalking toward the camera and up to the stage, wearing a cute Western boob shirt (one of very few) with a cool back. God, I love this song. So does Kellie. That rocks! The pimp lights go crazy, but honestly she doesn't need it. She looks pretty, if a little over-moisturized and shiny, and her eyebrows are hysterically angry and jumpy and forceful and kind of aggressive and a little cool, because she's not doing it on purpose, because nobody would. The last note is ragged and lovely, and it's the best performance so far, maybe of the whole night. It's for sure the best thing she's done. So weird! A homeless blonde woman wakes up in the audience and drunkenly, slowly, sleepily claps at the camera. Randy and Paula agree that she rocked and that it's her night, and Simon spares his agreement on the way to hating on the song, because he hates country, we do this every year, blah blah blah. She apologizes, and Ryan explains to her quietly that this was what Simon's approval looks like. He does the numbers and kicks it to commercial, and as we act out you can hear him again trying to explain that Simon just told her she rocked and it was clearly a compliment across the board. Lord, this girl.

So Whoopi and Chris Rock are in the audience. Interesting. Why is Chris there? Did he stop being relevant and I didn't notice? I love him. Anyway. ["He was seated to a kid; I choose to believe that his child forced him to come. I also choose to believe that we are going to get a good 15 minutes of material on this experience in his HBO special and that it is going to kill." -- Sars] Kenny says that Chris is tackling a song that's not easy to start with, and he comes from a whole different place completely, which I guess means somebody stupid covered this song, too. Fucking Chris. I never cared one way or the other, but this is like..."I can't take this test because of my overwhelming ADD. Why yes, I'm twenty-two and in college, why do you ask?" Stop pussying around and just do it straight, please. Chris tells Kenny that his whole family is into country, so Chris is rebelling because he hates it. To Kenny Rogers, or whoever this is, he says this. Nevertheless, Kenny says that Chris's "heart" is in the right place, and that he's going to "make something happen" with it. I don't think it's Chris's "heart" that...never mind, played, sorry.

Chris sings some other Keith Urban song, and actually manages to do this in a country-friendly voice, so I guess his mimicry is not as limited as we thought. Actually, he does it really well -- and not just because the arrangement and the overtime the band surely has put in on this one is so fucking good. Way to go, the band. I don't know what the song is supposed to sound like, but I think the band is doing a great job here. There's a sucky, sucky note heading into the bridge...and then just like that, I'm bored, because the shiny stuff is over and now it's just singing, and Chris...seems nice. Nice guy, but he has no personality. Whatsoever. You look in his eyes and it's like that one store at the end of the strip mall that goes Yogurt, Yoga, eBay Store, like clockwork every six months. Baseball Card Store. Jamba Juice. He's like Febreze for the fabric of your heart and your mind. But yes, he's done an excellent job. Randy says it was "really great," Paula praises his "versatility" and simultaneous ability to "stay[ing] true to who [he is]," and she laughs, because "what a concept," like it's so counterintuitive and yet true. And then we laugh at Paula, because...she's just wrong. You can't do both. Logic and sense don't do yoga at your command, because that store went belly-up six months ago. You can't do what she just said you can do, and the point of Chris is that he couldn't do that even if it were possible.

Simon says it's "great to see a new side" of Chris, and I'm so on board with this. Not every song needs to go through the fucking Five Doors Down filter, no matter how good you are at it. My chief disappointment with Chris, week in and out, is that he's so committed to what he thinks "singing" is that he still hasn't figured out that he can fucking sing. It's like Scott Savol last year: he's got this foundation and builds such trashy castles on top, but if he'd strip down, he could do anything. And Scott was really good at the mimicry, and never even thought to develop his natural talent. Wow. Chris Daughtry is the Scott Savol this year. Am I weird? But it's even worse, because I can't say for sure that Scott actually had natural talent underneath his savant abilities, and I know that Chris does. Paula interrupts Simon and says that he's lying, and was talking shit all through the song. Shut her the fuck up, please? Now is not the time. How are you serving the show, or Chris, or Simon, or us, the audience, with crap like that? You're just being an asshole now. Simon then delivers the ultimate WORD: "Having said that," he calls the whole group out, "[you guys] have been picking boring, uninteresting songs [for weeks], and the audience at home deserves better." Thank you, Simon Cowell.

Katharine calls her song "the perfect choice," and tells Kenny that she loves country, but it's not really what she does, so she's chosen something with more "blues." They practice, and she sounds pretty good. Kenny dubs it "not country country -- it's more sultry." I'm guessing this means Faith Hill. And you know I have no beef with Faith Hill. She's so pop-over-C&W that she makes Shania look like a backwoods hillbilly. So I'm thinking the math here goes I Love Katharine + Faith Hill Is Okay + Sultry And/Or Bluesy + Cute Dancin' = Miss Alli Is Going To Knee Me In The Face At Dinner. And...yes. Ouch. Kat sings "Bringing Out The Elvis in Me," with a sexy little dance, and she sings her ass off, with some of those fake JonBenet smiles she's so good at, into the camera, but those drop off once she gets into the song. I wonder if this song, on paper, takes as much range as she's using? Because the girl is showing off, as usual. Her hair is very bouncy. She makes me into a child and I don't know why, because I know her game and I have her number, but still: hair pretty. Fronts very bouncy as well. Not to be crude, because you know that's not a deal-maker for me personally. Although I do love to use the term "fronts," because any boy that didn't read Are You There God didn't come to the war of junior high properly armed. Overall the effect is...aesthetic, and I do love to watch her perform. We would get along great, is how she makes me feel, and that makes me like her, a lot. Because I don't see a lot of real people on TV that I think I would actually enjoy a conversation with, because I don't get why you would want to be on TV.

So to review: Taylor crying his song from his deathbed; Mandisa screaming boringly and not at her best; Elliott singing a song I actually like, but boringly, with bugging-out eyes; Paris singing a song I'm not fond of, in a lovely manner, dressed as a knight's squire; Ace making no sense at all, as usual, which is what keeps him awesome for me personally, because he's just Kevin Covais and here for no reason whatsoever, which is great; Kellie...fucking rocking out, somehow, which is nice for her; Chris singing what will now be called "Daughtry's Lullaby For Jacob With Occasional Strobe"; Katharine singing all sexy and strutty and getting her Elvis all over everything; Bucky being maybe the best of the night. For like the third time this year. I'm so weirded out by that.

Wednesday

Ryan, back on the Brightside with a light blue shirt tonight, still has his scruff and looks like a million tax-free bucks. Kenny Rogers says that country "tells us a story and leaves us with an emotion of some sort," and we remember how Kellie was awesome and cross-eyed as ever, Bucky was fucking awesome as usual, Chris had a dead stare and huge poseur wrist cuffs fucking up everything, Ace was mushmouthed and whiny, Paris got Simon but not Paula and looked cute as heck, Kat was awesome and Simon was perplexed but agreed with her that he hates country. Simon criticized the song choices of everybody, but especially Mandisa, Elliott, and Taylor. Who would be my bottom three, based on performances alone. Ryan makes some weird crack about "it's a reality show, folks," just in case any of us still thought this was real. Kenny Rogers Botoxes out onto the stage and everybody claps, and Kenny natters at Simon to listen to more country. Simon admits, as all us country-haters do, that he likes Kenny, and Rogers relents. Kenny says he was "really impressed by the kids personally," and for the sake of grace we don't cut to Ace shivering. "You were great with them," says Ryan, and then Kenny Rogers sings his stupid "I Can't Unlove You" non-song of the sort that Joe R talked about last week, with the Celine Dion instruments and the gimmicky country wordplay.

The pimp-mercial is performed to that song "Just One Look," and after the last few weeks it falls so hard, hard, hard. Taylor twitchingly takes Kellie's beater into an auto shop, they all beat the shit out of it and dance very methed-up toward the camera while dressed like Beyond Thunderdome, and Kellie looks like Nicole Richie. They put the bits into a chamber and Mandisa electrocutes it, and out comes a Ford Focus or Fusion or whatever ass-looking car it is this year, and the performance is uninspiring but Katharine is adorable, and then afterwards Ryan cracks that "that's how Kellie thinks cars are really made." week's theme is the music of Queen, a.k.a. "Jacob's Musical Kryptonite," and thanks to your Joe and mine for shouldering that particular burden. There's a weird, weird montage of a Queen song playing while the kids pretend they're at a '60s freak-out, swinging their hair around in a druggie way and "rocking" "out." While it's creepy and nervousing, I do have to say that this little 45-second package is very wonderfully produced, all syncopated on the beat and exciting. I sure do hate the music of Queen, though. ["I wish Freddie Mercury were still alive for a bunch of different reasons, but not the least of them is the fact that I think he would make the most outstanding AI guest judge/advisor ever. What I would not give to hear that man's 'bitch, please' comments to Taylor." -- Sars]

Ryan splits them all into three groups, as slowly as possible. Still-ailing Taylor and Mandisa are the seed members of Groups 2 and 3, and then Elliott joins Mandisa -- they hold hands cutely -- and Paris joins them, and I think, "That's the safe group." Ace starts Group 1, and Kellie joins Taylor in 2, like you'd assume. She looks really cute, with a fun bouncy ponytail and no close-ups on her face. Chris joins Taylor and Kellie, which freaks me out, because Kellie was actually good this week. But that means Group 1 is Ace, Kat, and Bucky? That's weird. Bucky rocked. So then I surmise that the bottom three group is Paris, Mandisa, and Elliott. Which is insane. Ace and Kat I believe, but Bucky? Hell no. But neither can I believe Paris or Mandisa, even though Paris was good but boring and Mandisa was across-the-board awful. This is freaking my brain out. Ryan sends back Taylor, Kellie, and Chris, of course, and Paula...starts preemptively crying. Ace smiles, terrified, Kat shakes her head at the audience ("I don't actually know what the fuck is going on, no"), and Bucky looks close to sicking up. Elliott, Paris, and Mandisa giggle, either because they're safe or because, to the simple, the whole "after the break" thing, which isn't even a shtick anymore, because of how TV works, is still fucking funny or weird or something.

Ace split the judges, Kat was "bluesy, sexy and peculiar" -- they all laugh -- and Bucky was "in his element." Of ruling. Paula liked Mandisa, Simon thought she was horrible. Elliott was "fresh" but clearly "lacked confidence." Paris had a tough time, Ryan reminds us, and she smiles nicely. "Oh, okay," she murmurs. Bucky, Kat, and Ace are...SAFE! THAT IS SO NUTS! I know all three of them (Paris, Mandisa, Elliott) were somewhere between sucky and boring, but...none of them have been on the seal before, right? And they...do all have fan bases, no? The Narrowing goes on: Elliott is safe, I think. And Mandisa going home would be kind of funny, after all the "controversy" the last week or so.

Ryan confirms that none of them have been here before, and here's what's up: Mandisa looks calm and cool, Elliott's jumpy, Paris is keeping it together. So basically, status quo. Paris says she's had a good run, and wants to have more fun, and Ryan sends her back, safe. Simon tells Mandisa and Elliott that it's not about how good they really are, that they're always going to be tied to the song, every week. And that based on that, Elliott is the safe one. Ryan wishes them luck, and...sends Mandisa home.

Something fucked up happens, and the whole crowd goes silent, Taylor's mouth hangs open with his hands about to clap for her successes, and everybody goes weird and silent. My notes were very insistent about a weird vibe, and I heard later than multiple sources were saying somebody screamed out a racial epithet in that moment. Which -- I'm still on the fence about the "lifestyle" shit, because I think homophobia is its own punishment if you're an aspiring performer who is also a large black diva -- is totally fucking disgusting, if it's true, and going back, I think it is. That's like the worst thing I can think of, actually. Those hypothetical-but-probable people sicken me, and I hate reminders of how far we have still to go as much as you do, but I see no benefit in ignoring them. Fuck you, white trash bitches. Go home.

Paris almost cries as Ryan comforts Mandisa, covering admirably, and says they've loved having her with them, and she wants to "thank her fans so much," because their "support has meant the world to [her]," and then all I hear is "prayers, Jesus, down your throat, my religion is evangelical and doesn't care if that's offensive, Jesus loves you anyway, I'm so crass that I think you should be impressed about the Good News, and if you don't I get to sniff and feel sorry about how you're not saved and you don't have favor, pile of crap, Jesus, prayers, down your throat." Kat has a secret, devouring smile as Mandisa blesses up in the name of Jesus. Whatever. She has a journey, a Dogjaw, a Manilow, a Stevie Wonder, and then performs her boring song again, but if you're not Christian and don't feel the need to be educated about it, because trust me -- it's been covered -- it's hard to get that taste out of your mouth.