After tonight's pre-credits sequence (which are all about last week's triumphs and the coming week's meltdowns, basically) and the actual credits, we're in Kansas City, Missouri. "They're supposedly doing X Factor auditions in Kansas City," a girl in a diner tells her friend, like the camera filming their conversation wouldn't be a dead giveaway. We're joining the crowds outside the arena, where yet another guy is claiming to be worried about being compared to Justin Bieber, and a chick named CeCe Frey with leopard-spots painted on her temple like a Star Trek: Voyager day player shows up and calls it "Just another day at the office."
In Britney Spears's hotel room, she's being primped while telling fellow judges Demi Lovato and L.A. Reid that Simon Cowell is calling in sick, but a guy named Louis will be filling in, whoever that is. If it's Louis C.K., I'll never complain about this show again. L.A. leaves and Demi trolls for more Britney-approval by suggesting plans to do something for L.A.'s birthday, which is today. Later, in the contestant holding room, a producer breaks the news that Simon's too sick to come to auditions today, and a party breaks out. Completely spontaneously, of course. And then an actual Louis shows up at the judges' green room and introduces himself to them and us as Louis Walsh, a boy-band manager from the U.K. He's got the accent and the self-aggrandizement of Simon, at least.
So now that we've met all the judges, let's meet another contestant. Rizzloe Jones is 18 and from here in KCMO, and with that face he should really be auditioning for The Eminently Punchable Teen-Movie Douchebag Factor instead of this. But he claims to be a rapper, so here he is. CeCe from earlier goes over to strike up a conversation and learn that he's going to make up a rap on the spot. CeCe struts confidently back to her boyfriend, having satisfied herself that Rizzloe is no threat to her. Rizzloe's ready for his big moment, insisting he's more excited than nervous.
He comes out onstage convinced of his awesomeness, but when the judges and the audience learn that this blond suburban shitkicker is not only a rapper but plans to improvise, they're going to take a lot of convincing. And he gets started, and I'm the first to admit that no judge of rap whatsoever. Which I can tell because I thought that was horrible (stock phrases strung together with a few topic suggestions from the judges mixed in like corn in a turd), and L.A. described it as "really good." Rizzloe's bro-corps are jumping up and down backstage as Louie, Britney, and Demi gush about how impressed they all are. Four yeses for Rizzloe, and the only thing the judges said about him that I agree with is L.A.'s pronouncement that "it is your lucky day."
CeCe Frey, meanwhile, seems to be angling for the host job, sitting down across from an unsuspecting boy-girl singing duo and grilling them about their relationship until she's driven them away from their perfectly comfortable seats. CeCe appears to be under the impression that she can increase her chances of singing well by messing with other people's heads. Her boyfriend is clearly proud, or at least frightened enough of her to pretend to be. After more self-congratulation, CeCe finally makes it out onstage and keeps up her overconfident thing, while Demi just eggs her on.
She tells the judges that she's ""CeCefied" the song "Unchained Melody." I'm not familiar with the term "CeCefied," but I can only assume it means doing something really, really bad, because that's what she did to the song. Demi can't take much of this and calls a halt, so CeCe tries a second song: "Ain't No Other Man" by Christina Aguilera. Which works better not only for her personality, but also for her voice and her tendency to miss notes, because there's more of them and even though she's still missing them, she's quickly on to the one. Everyone seems to think that's more like it, so she's going through unanimously. So far the judges seem more impressed with Kansas City than I am.
Later, Britney delivers L.A.'s cake to him, singing "Happy Birthday" to him in a shaky voice that wouldn't get her through to boot camp if she were competing. Or maybe it would this week, who knows?
We meet Vino Alan, who is 39 and from Waynesville, MO. He's made an impression on one other blue-mohawked contestant backstage who remarks on Vino's apparent nervousness. Given a chance to speak to the cameras for himself, Vino tells us that this is about providing stability for his fifteen-year-old son. Yes, going on a multi-month reality singing contest seems like the best way to go about that. When he gets to meet the judges, they comment on his face tattoos and invite him to take off his hat. And indeed, the only hair he has is inked on. So maybe a bank job isn't for him after all. At least he can sing, though, performing "Trouble" with a soulful, seasoned, un-showy voice. L.A. says he was ready not to like him but did, Louis compliments his stage presence, Britney was inspired, and Demi agrees that he has a unique voice. Four yeses for Vino. If it's possible to be aggressively mellow, he's it.
After the ads, Louis needily asks L.A. if he's missing Simon. L.A. says he is, but not that much. Out in the parking lot, a 19-year-old kid named Deangelo Wallace is boasting about how he can do Britney's songs better than she can. Way to set the bar high. Whatever the judges will end up saying to him, Deangelo is sure to leave here still thinking he's awesome and that the judges are losers. He goes out and talks to them like he's at the front of their classroom, flashing his janked-up smile, charming nobody by talking about the cars he'd buy himself with the five million dollars, and laughing at his own putdowns of Justin Bieber. "Do you have any idea how much you're getting on our nerves?" L.A. asks, not unkindly.
But does he have the talent to back it up? He does not, caterwauling off-key to the wings off stage right. The judges get up and leave en masse instead of just stopping him like they normally do. Maybe it was their break time anyway, but that just seems unnecessarily mean. Deangelo just keeps singing to the empty judges' table while the judges walk through the tunnel complaining about jokers like Deangelo trying to be funny. Hey, maybe he sincerely sucks? But coming off stage, he figures that he's better than Justin Bieber, so the only possible explanation for the judges' behavior is that they are "devil worshipers." But we're not done trumping up the Deangelo drama; he's leaving without turning in his microphone. A crew member tells us it's a three-thousand dollar piece of equipment, and with some Cops-style editing (including the theme song), Deangelo ends up getting arrested and leaving the scene in a police car. After that silliness, L.A.'s self-righteousness about how serious this all is rings a little hollow.
Tate Stevens is a twangy-voiced, cowboy hat-wearing good ole boy from Belton, Missouri. He's here with his eleven-year-old daughter, who encouraged him to try out. Oh, and also, he says this is the chance he's been waiting for his whole life. He comes out and jokes that he does rap, and gets a big cheer for his hometown. He talks about his job with the street department and sings "Anything Goes" (not the Cole Porter one) after winning the judges over with his personality. And then with his singing, as they let him actually perform the whole song.
Demi points out the standing ovation he got from the audience, Louis calls him a country star, and Britney flatly declares him "my favorite so far." L.A. is only mad Tate hasn't done this earlier. And then Tate ruins the moment by taking off his hat and showing his hair. Yikes, Tate, hat-head much? Luckily he puts it back on in time to rack up his four unreserved yeses. L.A. announces to the crowd that they're done with Kansas City. Well at least until we see more Kansas City auditions tomorrow. Louis and L.A. bid each other a fond farewell, Louis having failed to make any kind of impression at all. Well, except for my newfound appreciation for Randy Jackson.
San Francisco again? Again? The three non-Simon judges arrive with the usual pomp, even though at this point I think they're lust leaving so they can keep coming back. They talk about Simon so he can make an overdramatic, belated entrance. Can we just get on with it?
Elsewhere in the Cow Palace, a five-member boy-band calling themselves "Citizen" take over the men's room to primp their already-overprimped hair while the self-described "heartthrob" of the group polls his bandmates on whether the collar of his Elmer Fudd jacket should be up or down (results of the poll: down. The collar: up. I think we now know everything we need to know about this kid). After irritating everyone else backstage with their toolishness, they make it out onstage to face Simon and the other judges at last.
They're going for an En Vogue song, which they don't mess up totally, but you don't take on En Vogue unless you have better chops than these guys. Their choreography is dull enough that they'd be better off without any at all, but Britney, Demi, and L.A. seem to dig them. A visibly irritated Simon stops them and listens to the other three talking about how much they liked it, and then flatly declares, "I didn't get it." He says it was ten years out of date and out of tune, and gives them a no. But the other three say yes, so they're through, but not without a parting putdown from Simon to take with them. Cue the mean-Simon montage, as he insults a couple more groups and girls and calls it "constructive." He's back, apparently.
And he's still raining down nos after the ads, while people backstage are getting more nervous. Adrianna Lemus, 14, walks into the jaws of the beast with a clueless optimism about her plan to sing "Rumour Has it." Simon shuts her right down and she gets four polite nos and leaves the stage crying. Diamond White, 13, sees Adrianna coming back from that experience more dead than alive, and gets even more nervous. Diamond tells us about the "shoebox apartment" (and bed!) she has to share with her supportive mom, and about her absent dad, but she's willing to face Simon to make it all better.
In front of the judges, Diamond starts to tell them what she's going to sing, but extra-grouchy Simon rudely cuts her off saying it better not be Adele. Diamond gives him a look that says it was totally going to be Adele, but fortunately she's also got "This Is a Man's World" as a backup. She goes into it, and although the song choice is more impressive than her actual voice, she gets cheers from the audience, and even wins over Simon -- gradually. All the judges compliment her, including Simon, who says she blew the roof off. Four yeses for Diamond, which Simon milks for maximum suspense (which is to say none). Diamond just took a big step toward changing her life, but the really important news is that Simon's now in a better mood.
And now we're back in Austin. Seriously, the hell? Who planned this itinerary? Ally Brooke, 19, from San Antonio, flirts with Simon as he and L.A. walk by backstage (and of course he flirts right back with her). Ally talks about all the signifiers of celebrity she wants to rack up and never will. Her home-grown cheering section wearing matching t-shirts with her name on it is probably as close as she's going to come. I will admit that when she sings "On My Knees," she would easily be the best singer at the Bexar County Fair. The judges seem to like her, but she doesn't know when to stop -- continuing to sing long after the backing track has ended. Simon finally asks her to shut it down at last so they can talk. The judges liked her a lot, although Britney says she should maybe be in Broadway (the kiss of death on that other show). Simon thinks they're looking at a future star. Probably not a present star, but she gets four yeses anyway. Maybe the Ally Brooke perfume is coming someday after all.
Brandon Hassan, 16, sings "Trouble," and suffers by comparison to Vino Alan. But I'm not sure the judges have heard Vino yet at his point, so he gets four quick yeses. Then Normani Hamilton blows them away and goes through as well. Sister C, ages 17-21, do some three-part country harmonies and do better than most of the groups we've seen, even though they are so going to have to change that name. I don't care what their initials are. Then a pair of near-twins named Jeremiah and Josh, who make Britney go more googly-eyed than usual, sing an original song. "I wish you could wake me up in the morning," Britney tells them, not realizing that might possibly be misinterpreted, especially coming from Britney Spears. "What, you think like an alarm clock?" Simon mocks her before giving them a yes. As do L.A. And Britney. And maybe Demi, maybe not. The editors apparently don't care about what Demi Lovato thinks of Jeremiah and Josh.
After some more ads, we are informed that Austin is hot in the summer. Into this outdoor oven comes Panda Ross, 42, a large woman from Dallas. Backstage, she keeps hoping Simon will walk by, and seems to think she's going to make him fall in love with her. Hence the necklace she's wearing that reads "SINGLE." If she can sing as well as she can belly-laugh, she's got nothing to worry about, even though she just got out of the hospital with pneumonia yesterday. When she hits the stage, Simon seems sort of good-naturedly flummoxed by her, especially when she tells the story of how she got her name by being born in prison to a black mother with a white cellmate. We should probably be glad she grew up to be a wannabe singer instead of a supercriminal, then.
She belts out Sam Cooke's "Bring it On Home," and -- hey, is that Kaci from last week in the audience behind Simon? It totally is. I almost didn't recognize her without the stink-eye. Panda directs the second verse right to Simon, and it's pretty clear by the time she's done that she doesn't have much to worry about. L.A. loved it and says it was the perfect song choice. Demi and Britney agree, and Simon says she sounds like a legend. I thought that too, I just couldn't place which one. The votes are yeses across the board, of course. Panda dances happily off the stage at the same time the judges are leaving the table, so she gets a hug from Demi. But the rock-star moment is marred somewhat by Panda's growing respiratory distress and an increasingly desperate need to spit. Stuff "coming up," you know. She goes off in search of some EMTs, and the thing we know, she's being strapped to a gurney and rolled into an ambulance with an oxygen mask on her face. Well, nobody can accuse her of not giving it her all. How many other people leave these auditions in an ambulance? Actually, don't answer that.
After the ads, the judges talk in the green room about Panda's trip to the hospital, and Simon tells Demi, who hugged her, to go into quarantine for three hours lest she infect the rest of them. "You saw the end of Rise of the Planet of the Apes, right?"
Up is Jessica Espinoza, a 22-year-old from the south side of San Antonio who wants a better life for her family. "I know I look well-fed, but trust me, it's the dollar menu." She talks about her poor upbringing (to her family, who already knows about it, but it's not like there's a host to bounce these things off of), and hits the stage with some inspirational words about people where she comes from. She goes into "Nobody Knows" by Pink. She's taking her time, starting slow like the song calls for and then launching hard into the chorus. Her mic technique is a little minor-league, but that's easily fixed, and I'm sure it will be, because this chick isn't going anywhere. Standing ovation from the audience, and the judges seem blown away. Britney compliments her voice, Demi says she has the X Factor, L.A. appreciates how deeply she dug, and Simon says, "I didn't like it, I loved it!" Fortunately he has more to say than just that, including the fact that it's his favorite audition of the day. Jessica gets her four yeses, and we're out for tonight. Unless we're going back to San Francisco yet again for a few more minutes after the end credits?
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.