Andy Warhol was right. The year was 1968. These were the words: "In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes."
Long before social media. Decades before 24 hour cable news would take over the airwaves. Light years away from the proliferation of reality television, Warhol looked across the landscape of humanity and called it.
Like roaches to a sugary crumb, we humans scurry fast and furious towards the klieg lights when they switch on. Whether it is an eye witness interview, a major lottery win, or weather related devastation, we are attracted to the idea that many will see us, that we have something to say.
Once reality TV planted a flag in our consciousness, an entire generation was swept up and away by the idea they, too, could become famous for, well, nothing really. While early purveyors like Survivor made one suffer for their 1/4 hour of fame, shows like The Real World made it possible to just show up and be filmed. Naked and Afraid offered bragging rights for enduring exposure. And to their credit they taught us that a naked body becomes quickly unappealing when it is covered bug bites, sunburn, and twenty layers of ass sweat. Real Housewives flocked to the cameras in cities all across the nation, showcasing their nip/tucked bodies in bandage dresses and flipping tables in an attempt to get more screen time. And we watched, loving to hate them, hating to love them, and meme-ing them as they deserve.
Performance shows brought us vocal talent, dancers, magicians. We tuned in, cheered, cried, voted, just thrilled to be a part of making someone else's dreams come true.
And then the dating shows came along. We were there with our remotes, cheering on our favorites as they tried to marry a millionaire (who wasn't), win a rose (for best performance in a hot tub), or date while naked (but not afraid or ass sweaty). The Bachelor captured the hearts and Prince Charming fantasies of millions of fans willing to ignore how truly disgusting was the premise and copious bodily fluids being traded for a flower. The Bachelorette proved turn about was fair airplay as a woman took the bouquet and dated a bevy of bachelors.
For all its popularity and endurance, I have always been turned off by those particular shows. I raised two women and the last thing I would want them to think is that catfighting and crying over a man they barely know is any kind of "fame" to be seeking, much less that lasting love was going to be the reward of outplaying and outlasting the other girls. (And let's be honest - the track record on lasting reality TV connections is as low as today's stock market.)
But in hindsight, those hot tub dates, waterfall makeouts, and rose ceremonies were quaint in comparison to where we find ourselves in 2020.
Welcome to Love Is Blind, Netflix's latest offering to the reality TV dating zeitgeist.
I had seen it in my periphery when Chrissy Teigen tweeted something about it a few nights back. By the next morning, one of my daughters rang me up with an Oh-my-God-you-have-to-watch-this-shitshow phone call. Being the amateur social anthropologist I am, I queued it up and settled in to watch the first episode. Not even through that ONE, I was pausing and calling her to shriek my incredulity and immediate feedback. Soon my son was texting us: This is trash.
But we were watching. The car crash quality of not being able to look away was firmly in control.
For those who have not yet gotten wind of this stinker, Love Is Blind's premise is this: can love be found by removing the face to face, hot for your bod reactions of first impressions, and rely on conversations alone to connect?
Enter 15 females and 15 males from the Atlanta area, all professing disgust with the dating scene, swiping left and right, and ready to find a deeper, lasting connection with a faceless stranger. All straight with the exception of one young man who has dated both men and women in the past.
Sequestered in an Atlanta production warehouse, they live on opposite sides of a set up called the pods, soundproof rooms with a couch, blankets, pillows, and alcohol. Starting on day 1, they each speed date by entering a pod on their side, and speaking to someone of the opposite sex inside a pod on their side. They each have a notebook to keep track of who they talk to, who they connect with, and who they would like to chat with again.
OK, I can roll with that. Removing the physical means they actually do open up more, share more, and TALK more than any loud barstool set up would ever allow.
But here's the first thing that stands out. While the show repeatedly touts the Love Is Blind theme and how the physical doesn't matter, it is obvious the physical matters a whole awful lot. Not a single single is less than a 7. They are all hot bodies with Zoom whitened teeth. The men are buff and coiffed. The women come with suitcases full of bodycon dresses and four inch heels for pod dates IN WHICH THE GUYS CANNOT SEE THEM.
But onward. The goal of all this pod time is that through ten days of winnowing down who they truly feel a connection with, they will become engaged, sight unseen, and in 30 more days MARRY EACH OTHER.
Oh, holy night...
The contestants have vague occupations like "Content Manager" (Lauren), "General Manager" (Damian), "NBA dancer" (Diamond), "Business Owner" (Giannini,) "Fitness Trainer" (Mark), "Engineer" (Barnett, now to be known as F*ckboi), "Former military tank mechanic" (Amber, who will now be referred to as Batshit). There is even a scientist (Cameron) thrown in for good measure - who, quite frankly, should really know better.
As a grown up watching this - yes, a grown up, because these are children. If I could have birthed them they are CHILDREN - I found myself open mouthed repeatedly through the episodes, shouting at the TV. And when the first proposal happened on DAY FOUR? I'm surprised you didn't hear the vein pop in my head.
Once that proposal happened, the guys started dropping like flies ... to their knees, facing the wall between them, and pledging their undying, REAL TRUE LOVE to the women on the other side. Tears! Hyperventilating!
In all, 8 proposals took place - do that math. 15 possible combinations, and SIXTEEN of these people bought in, proposing, saying yes, and only finally seeing their betrothed afterwards. Those reveals are special. Watch as they stand at opposite ends of a hallway, their futuristic doors slide apart and they are left to combine a voice with a face and body for the first time. Some run to embrace, caught up in the heat of Thank-God-you're-not-a-troll. Some walk slowly, taking in the other, finally doing an ass out hug, not getting too close. Some cry, some laugh, and the guys all take a knee again and put a giant rock on their girl's hand.
Next step? Day 11 finds 6 of the couples whisked away to a Mexican resort in Cancun where they remain in their bubble of young heat, no phones, and paid for vacay. They picnic, they go up in helicopters, they drink, they get horizontal, and then... they realize all the other couples are there too. Awkward. They have all "dated" one another, and you can see some buyer's remorse as they see who they could have ended up with because, let's be honest, no matter how great the conversation, we are human and physical attraction matters.
Throughout the five days of fun and fiesta, they do what you do in the beginning. They are all sweetness and light. They all are putting their best flip flop forward. They are all lusting in new-to-each-other heat. All the while the clock is ticking down to their rapidly approaching nuptials.
Vacay ends, and surprise! They are all sent back to Atlanta to live together in the same apartment complex. Stress fractures are immediate. But then, with no true foundation, what does one expect? They fight, their feet get cold, they make up. Some couples continue to settle all awkwardness by turning out the lights and doing it some more. Some haven't been physical at all.
Next hurdle? They must see where they each live. Watching the 34 year old see where her 24 year old fiance lives is exactly what you would expect. Scientist man has a HOWSE. She is clearly impressed and talks about a spare room being for the baby. OY. Jesus, take the wheel.
Once that is over, they must all meet the parents. Parents who have zero idea what has been going on until their cherub shows up with a fiance and spills the tea on how they met. There is more side eye than all seasons of Drag Race combined. The looks on F*ckboi's parents' faces when they meet Batshit? Worth the price of your Netflix subscription.
As the wedding date approaches the guys have a bachelor party, the girls frolic with their besties. Stereotypes are thrown to the wind, however, as the men convene at an art gallery for a quiet night of passed canapes and blackjack, and the girls employ a stripper, visit a drag dinner show, and drain the alcohol supply of all Atlanta. Again, that Netflix autodraft is worth it when Batshit and I'm-34-he's-24 slobber all over each other at the bar.
Suits are purchased, wedding dresses tried on, and soon the day arrives. Yes, they all march down the aisle. But will they say I do? I won't spoil it for you. Just watch.
The final episode dropped at midnight and I literally woke up telling Rudy, "It's garbage day!" I am all in, and seeing it through.
I will say this. From a voyeuristic standpoint, great viewing. And if you find yourself questioning your own life choices, tune in, you'll feel better FAST.
Just don't expect miracles.
Expect exactly what this is. A reality TV "experiment" where a bunch of 20/30 somethings are willing to whore themselves out not for true love, but for a shot at a seat on Jimmy Fallon, a bigger Instagram following, a SNL skit in their honor, and of course, 15 minutes of shame.
Love may be blind, but when it comes to fame lust, these contestants have their eyes on a much bigger prize.
I watched both hearings yesterday. I have read the Mueller Report. My expectations going in were not for bombshell revelations, not for me, at least. But then that's what happens when YOU HAVE READ THE REPORT. You already know the extent of the depravity, subterfuge, and complete disdain for our rule of law practiced by Trump and his minions. And that's just in the unredacted part.
No, my expectations had more to do with my fellow citizens who might deign to tune in and receive a Cliff's Notes version of main events.
And that is exactly what was offered. Yes and no answers. Passages from the actual report being read into the record for the public, and for the confirmation from Bob Mueller that they were accurate.
As I was watching, one thing kept nagging at me - although this was the height of REALITY TV, as this shit actually happened, it clearly was not going to be flashy enough for our hooked-on-adrenaline populace.
There were no zombies (Although the sycophantic bootlickers come close). There were no Real Housewives with pathetic catchphrases (Although, Who needs truth when you have power and Chardonnay? would be a good one). People weren't naked (but we should be very afraid). No one was hooking up on Love Island (despite the copious Trump asskissing in plain view). A million dollars and a recording contract were not on the line (one could, however, clearly see who was auditioning for a bigger role in Trump's Playhouse). Howie Mandel did not have a bevy of beauties with suitcases (hell, Jim Jordan couldn't even be bothered with a jacket again). There were no dragons breathing fire (Pssst, GOP - screaming at a witness does not make you look like Drogon. More like Hodor. All apologies to Hodor.). No one using the word "cocksucker" as a noun, a verb, an adjective - all in the same sentence. (Kudos to both sides for not going that far.) No rose ceremony or human soup in a hot tub. (There was alphabet soup as words with no meaning poured forth from maws like Nunes and Gaetz.)
You know, all the things it takes to keep our interest, make us watch, invest in the outcome.
And that is just so very sad.
Instead of focusing on the plainly stated facts of obstruction and Russian interference in our elections which is active and ongoing; instead of paying attention to the measured, quiet, non flashy, non partisan tone of Mueller; instead of coming away incensed at what has been done to this country - the takeaway was "Meh. He looked tired, confused."
JFC, are we really that addicted to scripted drama that real life is too boring for us to process?
Robert Mueller is a veteran, a Bronze Star and Purple Heart recipient. He has served this country for decades, and he has served it well and honorably. He is 74 years old, of course he looks tired. He doesn't spray tan, loop his hair into some cotton candy farce, or have a plastic surgeon on retainer. He is dignified, thoughtful, knows his business, understands discretion, and was not there to sing a song and hope you called in a vote for him.
I am disgusted by the "He looked weak, couldn't hear" lines. If you actually watch these hearings, the person at the desk fielding questions ALWAYS has trouble hearing from the assembly in front of them. There are ALWAYS requests to have a question repeated. And the person at the desk ALWAYS looks around trying to find who is speaking to them this time. Because there are MANY and they do not go down some methodical line.
He had the two volumes of the report beside him for reference. And he did reference them often to make sure he was being accurate and not led. He did not agree with something that was unclear or slanted. He was not lured into offering his opinions, as his opinions are not germane. He refused to speak to ongoing investigations, offer details on deliberations that rely on confidentiality because he understands what is at stake not just in this, but in every case that may go forward from here.
As for his age? You suddenly hold Mueller to some arbitrary standard, when you literally see a mumbling, stumbling, illiterate orange dullard on TV daily and that's cool because he talks like you, thinks like you, entertains you?
But then, that's the whole crux of this response to Mueller's appearance yesterday. He did not titillate, he did not make shit up, he was not contentious, he did not pepper his word salad with "great" bigly" yuge" or point his finger and squawk FAKE NEWS! ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE!
And that criticism applies to the left, not just the right. There were just as many on the left decrying how boring it was (it was a Congressional hearing, not the Kardashians), how awful Mueller looked (again, he is 74, for Christ's sake), that he couldn't hear (my mother is in her 70s, wears a hearing aid, and is still sharp as a tack), that he seemed confused (point of fact, he only seemed "confused" in the face of the shit laden monologues of GOPers that had no real question anywhere in them).
It is disappointing. It was not up to Mueller to make it flashy, catchy, mesmerizing - make you give a damn. The facts of this case are flashy enough on their own, and you should give a damn. They should be appalling to every citizen. And every citizen should find them irrefutably damning to the scourge in the White House.
But go ahead, keep looking the other way. Run your mouth about how Mueller was disappointing TV. You know, the things that really matter.
Because at this rate, you are likely to get your wish for much more exciting television drama as Russia affects yet another election and you get to watch a new series called Dancing With The Czars.
OK, this has to be the most boring audition run yet. Seriously - when an hour feels like a Gilligan cruise, and produces no one even remotely as entertaining as Thurston and Luvvie? Sheeesh.
The highlight of tonight's episode wasn't the foster care kid or the self loving guy with the tinfoil pants, but the Where's Waldo appearance of Daniel Franco - castoff from Project Runway several season back.
I actually perked up for that. A momentary Kato Kaelin-bad penny kind of thing where you know you know the guy, can't quite place him, then Wham!
Poor Daniel. I guess this is what happens when you don't make it on one reality show. You just drift to the next one? Anyway, it answers the musicalized question, Daniel Franco, Where Did You Go? (Thanks to Lori for sending the video my way)
Moving on...
The show kicked off with a welcome to LA by resident radio Deej Ryan Seacrest, dressed in a tie no less. Forget the whole You-have-a-face-made-for-radio thing - Ryan looks dapper even when you can't really see him.
Loved the B/W footage of old Hollywood - the "epicenter of entertainment" - I guess that clip of the guys flipping that girl round and round and then heaving her counted as entertainment way back when? It just made me dizzy and brought back bad memories of how I felt the last time I drank too many Chocolate Martinis.
Adding to the odd mishmash that was tonight's episode, the producers managed to work in one of my most hated songs - Kesha's, oops, sorry, I mena Ke$ha's Tik Tok. "I brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack..."
Give me a break, little girl. Even my daughters think you're a poser.
With that stellar set of lyrics in the background, they panned across 11,000 folks gathered at The Rose Bowl to sing for the Three Musicteers and guest judge, Avril I'm-So-Cool-In-My-Horned-Hoodie LaVigne.
OK - hoodie aside, I love Avril. Gorgeous girl, steady stream of great songs. Especially fond of When You're Gone - for obvious reasons (if you're a regular reader).
First up to meet the judges, Neil Goldstein, 19, a goobery young man with an IQ of 168, a FQ (fashion quotient) of 7, and an HQ (hair quotient) of 3. He also shone brighter than the sparkles on Randy's wristwatch - the kid had a face reminiscent of the Exxon Valdez oil spill.
He bragged to the camera that "In my heart is the love to perform, the love of others, to exhilerate, to exultate..."
Why at this point was I ready to expectorate?
In went Oafy Taylor, convinced that, "Come what may, come fire, come rain, I'm going to Hollywood."
He launched into Rock and Roll Dreams Come True by Meatloaf, which could have only been eclipsed in awkwardness by him choosing Paradise By The Dashboard Light. Ugh.
Look, the kid had heart, delusions of grandeur, and a voice made for the Wii version of Idol. He, however, was undeterred by Simon telling him No.
"I am not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. Simon, there is no reality except what we make for ourselves."
Well, Neil, the reality you made for yourself is one in which you had a starring role as a shiny, sweaty, belligerent doofus. (I'm being kind.)
He finally left, but made sure to remind us that it's our loss. I shall struggle to move on, Neil...
Any way to redeem things?
Enter worship pastor Jim Ranger - family man - married, three small children. Soft spoken, passionate about his music, you liked the guy right away.
He chose to sing a tune he penned himself, Drive, and his voice immediately reminded me of Bo Bice. Full of energy, a little raw, emotional.
Avril, however, decided that with all her extensive life experience, he could not juggle his musical ambitions with a family, so she told him No. The others disagreed (perhaps visions of Fantasia, Bice, Daughtry dancing in their heads?) and sent him on to Hollywood.
Into each life a little pain must fall - this time into our ears via the musical stylings of Jayson Can-You-See-My-Tonsils-Now? Wilson, Jesse Handsomer-William-Hung Chang, and Martin Fonzerezi.
Given more time to abuse our patience and goodwill was Damien LeFavor. We got to go up to the roof with him to watch him act out a Bruce Lee movie. You see, Damien's first love is martial arts, although he is quick to point out that he is a passivist (and a sandwich maker).
Needless to say, he should stick to his day job karate chopping pepperoni at the Subway because his rendition of You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling made Maverick and Goose sound amaaahhhzing. Even Mr. Miagi would say Wax off, Damien.
The best montage of the night came next - all the little kids on hand to support their parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, siblings of aunts and uncles, parents' friends, etc (I've told you that 10,000 person turn out is mostly entourage.) Loved the kid who was obviously commiserating over his sister's vocal demise, "That was crap."
Yes, yes it was.
But Mary Powers, 28, mom to an 8 year old, had more than rectal Play-Doh to offer the judges - a rocker chick, she tore into Love Is A Battlefield. Great vocal - smoky, a little raspy, powerful. I agreed with Simon that the outfit (all black, chains, leather arm covering) were a bit overdone, but her vocal made up for her lack of polish. 4 yeses, and a bonus - her 8 year old got to come in and meet Simon.
Lest you think he is heartless - Simon loves animals and small children.
Despite 23 people receiving Golden Tickets, the producers opted to show a bunch of clips of Adam Lambert wannabes - LOVE him, hate the waste of airtime given to the pokey haired, obviously dyed black, make-up wearing "If Susan Boyle and Adam Lambert had sex, I'd be it." gang.
But we'll highlight one anyway...
AJ Mendoza, 20, was excited because he had sent a demo to Adam Lambert and received some feedback - notice, he did not say it was GREAT feedback.
In front of the judges, he scrang Kilt Of Personality (yes, I know the title is CULT, but it sounded like KILT coming out of his barely open mouth.)
Loved Avril's pithy, "Absolutely not."
AJ is a musical dude, however, with a stage background similar to Lambert's. He is currently touring in Jesus Christ Superstar - you can check out more if you dare at his MySpace page.
Day 2 dawned with guest judge Katy Perry waiting for the other judges to arrive by helicopter. She was less than impressed with the pompous excess of that move. But oh, how Randy glittered in the sun as he stepped onto the roof. That BeDazzler of his must have been like a textile Buford T Justice - in high speed pursuit of his t-shirt the night before.
Seriously, the girls in the Little Miss Perfect pageant don't sparkle that brightly. (And do NOT get me started on his scrotee - that mess of chin pubes he was sporting...)
Austin Fullmer promised the camera that "There's not anyone on American Idol that's sexually been like me."
Sirens sounded in my head.
Decked out in shiny silver pleather pants and a shirt made out of what looked like red and black duct tape, he launched into Surrender. If Mick Jagger and Mick Jagger had sex, this would be it, me thinks.
And what was with the drop to the floor to do a sitting version of jumping jacks? Yeesh. Mommy's all right, Daddy's all right, but YOU just seem a little bit weird, Austin.
As he left the room, Katy leaned over to Kara and dropped the best line of the night, "Are these people frisked before they come in here?"
Another river of tears led us downstream to Andrew Garcia. Now, obviously, as we were whisked away to the home of his parents (both former gang members), you knew he was heading to Hollywood, but it was sweet to see his once tough dad break down in tears at the kitchen table as he talked about his son.
Andrew just wants to provide for his absolutely adorable little boy, an angel with huge brown eyes and dark hair.
In front of the judges, the guy who looked like a hispanic Elvis Costello busted out a soulful, controlled rendition of Maroon 5's Sunday Morning. LOVED HIM. As did the judges - 4 yeses for Andrew.
Tasha Layton, 26, a personal assistant and a pastor was up next. A pretty young woman, in a long black sundress, she took on Baby, Baby, Baby - it was one of those effortless vocals. Maybe not enough to win a confetti shower in May, but definitely worthy of moving on to Hollywood.
Now, as has been the rhythm of this season of auditions, for every breath of fresh air we get to enjoy, there is always a Taco Bell fart not far behind.
Jason Greene, 20, was tonight's cloud of sulpherous humanity. Our first glance was one of him making love to his tummy number while looking lasciviously into the camera.
Color us all surprised when he announced his intention to sing I Touch Myself for the judges. And touch he did, all over, ending on his knees - which is where he stayed for his critique, but not before asking Simon, "Come down here and join me?"
Simon gave him two No's - one for the singing, and one for the offer of floorspace.
Katy said, "I feel dirty. It takes a lot to make me feel dirty."
Jason, with nothing to lose at this point, retorted, "I bet it does, especially with that top." (referring to her lowcut dress.) Way to make friends and influence people, Jason. Nonplussed by his ouster, he pushed up on Ryan and gave him his phone number, which Ryan handed off to a beefy security guard.
Great. Now I feel dirty. And the smell of aromasstherapy still lingers.
Katy proved far harder to impress than Kara, as was indicated by the montage of her saying No to most of Kara's yeses. Perfect opportunity, of course, to insert her hit Hot And Cold in the background.
Bringing up the rear of this Bataan Audition March, Chris Golightly, 25. Cue sad music, and footage of him watching a passing freight train.
Chris was in foster care from about 18 months to adulthood - roughly 25 families. I honestly cannot imagine that. Despite a childhood lived in constant transition, Chris is a quiet, thoughtful young man - although the Guaringlets need to go.
He sang Stand By Me and Kara announced him "One of my favorites." She loved his talent, and his story which would endear him to viewers.
Katy cut in with "This is not a Lifetime movie, sweetheart."
I do believe Kara was one breath away from "Randy, hold mah weave." Simon diffused the tension by granting Chris a "small y" for Yes, as did Katy. Kara fired back, in her best, Step off beyatch, you are a guest, I am permanent voice with a "Big Y" which was bested by Randy's "Giant Y."
And that was it for LA-LA Land - 23 Golden Tickets, a helicopter ride, an almost catfight, and a truly odd cameo of Daniel Franco. ('Fess up - did YOU recognize him?)
Wednesday night takes us to Dallas, but will the Big D be all hat and no cattle in terms of talent? See you there!
Anyone who thought Chi-Town's talent peaked when Ferris Buehller lip synced on a parade float didn't reckon with the 12,000 folks who showed up with stars in their eyes. But did they have the vocal cords to back up their dreams, or would they hear Danke Shoen, but no danke shoen?
Of course, some were confused about what they were there for ... "I believe I have what it takes to be America's Next Top Model...oh wait."
But with the judges on hand - Randy fresh from body painting the Avatar characters (what was with the blue splotches?), Simon sporting a cardigan?!?, Kara enjoying her permanent role as resident chick, and guest judge Shania 65-million-albums-5-Grammys Twain - the day got under way...
First up? The poofily coiffed Katelyn Epperly, 19, of Iowa. I'd like to say her story was compelling, but these days, it's commonplace. Dad decided to file for divorce. Not exactly the stuff of Hallmark Made-For-TV movies, but a hard time for her family nonetheless. She was auditioning for her Mom.
A beautiful girl, the kind that can pull off boots and a pink slip dress, Katelyn launched into Syrup & Honey and sounded as sweet as the title. Soulful, a nice range - Randy loved her. (I, however, did not love his landing strip chin - it was worthy of a high $$ bikini wax job at Brazilian spa.)
4 yeses and Katelyn's Mom was happy. Dad? You can suck it.
Now, typically I FF through the commercial breaks, but I had to back up when I caught sight of Kris Allen. Smooth how they slipped a Ford Vommercial into the main mix...
The one worth stopping, watching, and rewinding to watch again was the census commercial with the fabulous Christopher Guest Coalition. If you haven't seen Waiting For Guffman, Best In Show, For Your Consideration, A Mighty Wind, or the epic This Is Spinal Tap - your life is lacking, indeed. "It's such a fine line between stupid, and clever."
They have clever (and hilarious) down to a science.
Next up to entertain the judges? Amy Lang, 26, a Broadway lover (I envision Hairspray, maybe?), and the latest reinCarnieation of one of the Wilson sisters. Amy skeeved out Ryan by confessing that he was the star of her first "inappropriate" dream.
Ryan?!? Great. Now I'm skeeved out.
In the audition room, her fact sheet indicates she does "something with her boobs" - now Simon is skeeved out.
She announces she will sing Dr. Feelgood and promptly collapses on the floor. Count to three, wait for it... up she goes singing her heart out, and throwing in a signature flex of the ta-tas for the judges.
Yikes.
Those are big tatas.
Unfortunately for her, even though she seemed to have a more than decent voice, her over-the-top (all pun intended) audition (it went all the way to 11, seriously - bonus points if you get that reference) only earned her a ticket out the door.
Charity Vance, 16, however, will obviously fare better. We know this because we get to visit her home cum hair salon in Arkansas before she even sings a note.
Charity takes on Summertime, and while no one will ever best Fantasia, it was a surprisingly controlled, emotional performance by the sweet, perky blond girl. The judges were all impressed and off to Hollywood she goes.
All things being equal (for every "happy ending", there is a punch in the satchel), it was time for a chorus line of No's: A guy suffering a seizure and Tourettes at the same time. Tourzure? (Torture?) A young man in hot pants that were, well, not. A bride, and a blue haired Crazy Accordian Lady. Carlton from Fresh Prince?!? It IS unusual, dude. A dude from the islands, "I'm a high pitched singer." sent packing with an aLOWha. And, of course, a mom who confronted Simon over dismissing her daughter, "Hell, to the no!" He gave his best "You've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a shit." attitude.
Moving on...
Angela Martin is back to prove that perhaps, three times IS a charm. I remember her from Season 7, not so much for her talent, but for the emotional backstory about her little girl, Jessica, who suffers from Rett Syndrome. (Tragic disease which strikes mostly girls - toddlers - they grow and hit their milestones just fine until 6 to 18 months when they suddenly begin to regress mentally and physically till they are completely disabled. There is no cure.)
She made it to Hollywood in Season 7 (although her father was killed a week before she went), then again made it to the Top 50 in Hollywood last season (but had to bow out because of a warrant over a traffic violation).
Back again, looking beautiful in a blue tube dress, her world weary eyes belying her young age of 28, she sang Just Fine for the judges and got her third Golden Ticket.
Sadly, her life seems like it will never be "just fine". Reports this morning are that her mother vanished on Christmas day and is still missing. Police Records Clerk Kim Johnston confirms the story, "To my knowledge, she is still missing. I haven't talked to the investigator about it, and I don't know what they've done. But as far as I am concerned, she is still missing."
7 more hopefuls received tickets to Hollywood on Day 1, but apparently weren't worth our time. Instead, more minutes were sucked up showing some lady's thunder thighs, and showcasing awful auditioners (awditioners?) like Curly Newbern.
Curly is the vocal equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Seriously, Curly could make a perm go straight. He was only rivaled by fellow screamcher, Alannah Halbert, Sweeny Todding I WIll Always Love You.
After receiving a string of No's, she told her family, "I didn't know what they were trying to say."
Brian Krouse, 27, is former Army. Kind of like Forrest Gump was former Army. A nice guy who can follow orders and is polite, but his mental puddle doesn't seem too deep.
Apparently in the Army he liked to sing for his fellow soldiers, but his sergeant wouldn't let him (at least not in uniform). Brian's take? "Screw you, Sgt. Heart, I'm the next American Idol."
He then tiptoed (literally) through the tulips as he did his best Tiny Tim.
Sgt. Heart was right.
And Tiny Tim would have beat him to death with a ukelele.
Harold Davis is "tired of eatin' microwave dinners, I wanna eat steak." OK, Harold, people have auditioned for lesser reasons than that...
He claims, "I'm gonna shoot off like a rocket!" but he must have meant the bottle kind because he didn't even clear the launchpad. The judges dismissed his version of Nice & Slow and he started to cry hard and fast.
He was followed in his sorrow by another string of badness - big, small, even a Velociraptor (really, what the hell was that girl doing?)
I was starting to hear Ferris and Cameron arguing in my head...
Ferris: Cameron, what have you seen today? Cameron: Nothing good. Ferris: Nothing - wha - what do you mean nothing good? We've seen everything good. We've seen the whole city! We went to a museum, we saw priceless works of art! We ate pancreas!
I think at this point, I'd have opted for the pancreas.
Redemption entered in the form of John Park, 20. A college student who didn't decide to pursue voice until he filled out his college apps (every parent's dream), John is a good looking, soft spoken guy.
And he can sing.
Shania was overcome with double entendres - "a beautiful bottom end," "a great head."
Um, ok, can we have a vote please before we need to shift Idol to late night viewing?
See you in Hollywood, John. Don't worry, Shania won't be there.
Paige Dechausse brought the entire family with her in a limo, courtesy of her Grandma (who was also on hand).
BACKSTORY ALERT!!!!! GRAB YOUR HANKIES!!!!!
Paige has asthma. A condition which actually sent her to the hospital as a teen - so serious that her parents were taken to grief counselors as they were told she had a 30% chance of surviving.
They strapped on her headphones, pumped her full of music and love, and she survived.
She is now 21, tall, lovely, and talented. She sang Change Is Gonna Come, and while I can do without a roller coaster's ride worth of vocal loop de loops, heights and drops - Paige can sing. Four yeses and she (and her inhaler) will be in Hollywood. I like her - hopefully she will make it to the main stage.
A final push of guys at day's end:
Justin Ray, 20, the black Chris Sligh of Season 9; Keith Semple "Baby, you're all that I want..." well, you and a Golden Ticket; and Marcus Jones "I'll be your crying shoulder..."
Only tears of joy though - they all made it through.
(Well, maybe a few real tears for Semple. Apparently he has VISA issues - not the credit card kind either - the resident alien kind - and was uninvited to Hollywood. "It was a huge disappointment, but that's just the way it is. . . . I'm happy I'm with a great band, and I'm only looking forward.'')
In total, Chicago only produced 13 Golden Tickets over two days. Maybe Cameron was right...
Next stop? Orlando. Perhaps with the glut of talent that supports the endless theme park shows, someone will do more than just wish upon a star. Maybe someone will actually become one.
Now, go on - get about your day. The show's over.
You're still here? It's over. Go home. Go. (Sigh - I love Ferris.)
And now, the end is near, and so we face, the final curtain
My friends, I'll type it clear, recap the crap, my fingers hurtin'
We've stayed through all the fools.
Put up with Kara's and Paula's blathering
And more, much more than this,
We've endured Ryyyyan.
Regrets, we've had a few;
Alexis gone, Allison bye-bye
We did what we had to do
Although Hatt got an exemption.
Rags pondered week after week
Adam Lambert - gay or not gay?
But more, much more than this,
What became of Jorge?
Yes, there were times, you threw your shoe
When TIVO cut off before it was through.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
You replayed the show YouTube spit out.
We watched the bombs, each and every Vomm;
And did it our way.
We've loved, we've laughed and cried.
We've had our fill; our favorites losing.
And now, as cheers subside,
We find it all so damned amusing.
To think we did all that;
Endured a scream out of a nightmare,
No, it wasn't me,
It was Danny Go-key.
For what is a Matt, what has he got?
If not his mole, a hat on top.
To sing the things he truly feels;
And not the words that Kara spiels.
The record shows we took the blows -
And voted our way!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thunder!!! Lighting!!! (No, that's not a typo) Adam foreground! Kris behind him!
Welcome to the final showdown!
(Slam camera into Adam's face) It was their final battle (flash snippets of last night's show), the biggest moment of their lives. These TWO lives have been changed forever (insert dramatic heartbeat effect). But only ONE can win the title (and the chance to sing Kara's craptastic song!) This is the finale. (Cut to Ryan wedged between the angelically dressed bodies of Kris and Adam) And T.I.A.I. (cue solar flare and graphics)
Poor Ryan. One last cascade down his staircase of ego. He descended slowly, taking it all in - Scarlett/Gloria Swansen/Beauty School Drop-out/Hell, this is probably how Kim Jong Il enters a room so as to add height beyond his lifts.
And in the adoring crowd, Kimberly Locke! Patricia Heaton! (See? Everybody Loves Ryan!) And Janice Dickinson's frozen sneer.
Ryan then announced the numbers - just under 100,000,000 votes for Kris and Adam. All part of a "record setting 624 million votes" all season. (Eeesh, we need to get a life)
He then acknowledged the judges:
Randy, in a black jacket, striped shirt, and burgundy velvet bow tie - he was one straw hat short of breaking into a chorus of Lida Rose (bonus points - name the musical). They rolled a hilarious mash-up of his favorite catchphrase which went something like this, "For you, for me, for me, for you, for meyou, for you, for meyouyoume...dawg."
Kara looked lovely in a strapless black gown with Gong Show gongs handing from her ears. Her film highlighted her attempts to lessen an insult by always adding the word "sweetie" or "honey" - kind of like the southern trick of softening anything by adding "bless his heart." He is an ignert sumbitch with a gimpy leg and a strange green pus that runs from his anus and I heard he has warts on his satchel ... bless his heart.
Paula was a blurred vision, once again crammed into a sparkly gold biscuit can. She looked like she was one deep breath away from her doughy bosom oozing all over the table. Her montage highlighted her Word-of-the-Day toilet paper, "Agility, substitutions, cadence, infectious, distinctually, intonation, visceral..."
Yes, Paula, we always have a visceral reaction to you. And it tastes like bile.
Simon's worst transgression was his repeated asking of "What? Pardon? Excuse me? Sorry?" He looked dapper in his black suit with his white shirt opened to his navel.
Ryan then welcomed Kris and Adam down the stairs where he attempted to ask them some questions, but neither of their mikes were working so they sounded like they were answering from a port-o-potty on a busy runway.
They then brought up the big screen so we could visit with the crowds in Conway, Krisfest 2009, hosted by Mikalah Gordon - of course there was exuberance in abundance, but I could not focus on that as Mikalah's lips were in the way.
In San Diego, Carly Smithson and the girl stenciled on her arm held court at Adamapalooza. Excitement was palpable.
This segued into the first GROUP SONG of the night as Ryan introduced the Top 13 singing Pink's So What. As usual, they were all wearing finale night white - and I found myself questioning my Sometimer's (I don't have ALLzheimer's...yet) - who were some of those people??
Oh wait! Now I remember! Michael (didn't he used to work on an oil rig?), Jorge (muy bueno!), Hatt was there all Rico Suave' in a white silk aviator scarf. As they sang and danced, Michael took the lead as Scott's seeing eye dawg, making sure he was in the right place.
I give them this - while they are zero threat to Pink (I'm reasonably certain she could even kick Sarver's ass) - they did not sound half bad. The AI Summer Concert should be a good show. As the song neared its end and they all flowed into the audience, Adam remained on stage with Scott at his side - nice.
The first break brought us back to Ryan introducing David Cook singing a new song, Permanent. I defy you to tell me you did not tear up. The lyrics were absolutely about his brother's passing and I have no idea how David made it through. If you did not see it, listen to it here.
His eyes were full as he finished, but he held it together to hug Ryan and tell everyone that the download of the performance would be available on iTunes, with all proceeds going to ABC² - and organization which raises money to find a cure for cancer. And then, always the gentleman, he told everyone of Adam and Kris, "I don't know that America can get it wrong."
Well, for what it's worth, David, America did not get it wrong when they gave you the title. You are class, dignity, talent.
As he left the stage... Oh look! In the audience! Justin RawWeinie!
Cut back to Ryan standing at the podium - oh goodie - time for the Golden Idol Awards. (Cover that emotional bagel with a huge schmear of sarcastic cream cheese, please.)
First category? Outstanding Male (translation: worst contestants EVUH)
Wil Kunick - who somehow managed to have the lyrics to his song choice stenciled on the audition room ceiling
Michael Gurr - a man who sang through a bowel movement
Elijah Scarlett - Swing LOW, you sweet young man, you
Dean Anthony Bradford - The dude in the plaidtastic jacket who promised that "the carpet matched the drapes." Yes, but is the carpet just as greasy?
And, of course...
Nick Mitchell aka Norman Gentle - And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going ... and he meant it.
Well, golly gee willikers, guess who won? Yes, Nick, who came up to the stage from his seat in the audience, feigning embarrassment at being so casually dressed. He thanked his sister, Steve Martin, Martin Short, Nathan Lane, baby Jesus, the Lennon Sisters, his mom's tomato garden, and the guy who made his hamburger at Denny's, then he again apologized for his appearance, shouted HIT IT! and tore off his hoodie and pants to reveal...
Wouldn't it have been an Idol moment if he had been naked?
No such luck.
He was wearing his wrist bands, khaki shorts, and that god awful polyester tie dye nightmare of a shirt. And what did he sing? Silly. OF COURSE - the ONE SONG he knows. He vamped, he lay down on the stage, he went to the stage behind the judges, hideously singing al the while. Mercifully, he finally shouted "Norman Gentle 09 - Peace Out!" and walked up the aisle.
And I am preparing a clASS action lawsuit to sue for those five minutes of my life which were stolen. Email me if you want in.
The camera then cut back to Ryan, wearing Norman's headband and glasses, which looked like they had been dipped in a vat of olive oil. Yerk.
Cue Lil Rounds to sing Cue The Rain. She strutted on stage in black capris, a black and white colorblock top, heels, and about ten yards of polyesthair. After one verse she was joined by Queen Latifah who looked like a big black sausage - and no, I do not mean the color of her skin. I mean the body stocking she was stuffed into.
Who the hell dressed her? Jimmy Dean?
And what was with wearing half a leather jacket?
Look, I adore Queen Latifah, I really do. And she embraces every curve she has - more power to her - but this duet was as lacking in energy as a ten watt lightbulb.
Next!
Coming back from the break, Anoop kicked things off with Jason Mraz's I'm Yours. I miss Anoop. Hell, I miss Anoop's eyebrows. He's a good singer with a great attitude. He was quickly joined by Alexis in a red tunic which threatened to reveal her own carpet/drape details, and boots that came halfway up her thighs.
I miss her, too. If I had to point to one contestant who truly was gone way too soon, it would be Alexis. Cute as a button, with a huge voice.
As they sang, it was no big surprise when Jason Mraz walked down's Ryan's staircase and joined in. Jason was a vision in a Peace sign t-shirt, white jacket, JEANS, and bare feet. Oh, and he's not bad live. Then suddenly, like bugs, the remaining Top 13 (sans Adam and Kris) crawled up out of the audience and finished the song with them. Seriously, they weren't there, and then like Children of the Corn, they emerged.
Ryan then rolled two minutes worth of Kris journey footage, which we have all seen before, so let's move on to Kris performing Kiss A Girl with Keith Urban.
They both played the guitar throughout and it was a joy to watch Kris - this was obviously his type of song, he looked comfortable, happy, having the time of his young life. For his part, Keith was his usual sexy, scruffy (sexffy?) self.
And there we were, happily comfy, enjoying an upbeat tune about kissing a girl, when the gears shifted so fast the transmission fell out the bottom of the damned car.
KABOOM.
Well, more like KABOOM BOOM POW, but that comes in a minute.
On the stage behind the judges stood Jasmine, Lil, Alexis, Megan, and Allison singing the intro to Fergie's Glamorous Life. Which, of course, led right into Fergie, all ten feet of her (good God, those shoes looked like Spanish Inquisition torture devices) in a duct tape dress, strutting out to sing Big Girls Don't Cry.
Fergie is a goddess. And she works at it. Face it, legs like that don't just grow on trees. Or else we'd all have leg trees in our backyard and mine wouldn't stop two feet short of the floor like they do.
As Big Girls wound down, Allison called out the Black Eyed Peas who joined Fergie for Boom Boom Pow, surrounded by dancers straight out of a TV test pattern. And I thought Queen Latifah's body stocking was bad, these poor dancers were completely encased - not a scrap of person showing through.
Like everyone else, I'd like to know what Ferg was singing or doing to herself with that Wolverine hand of hers because they felt the need to shut off the sound and roll the AI graphic around for a good ten seconds. The song moved on, the guys rapped, the test patterns frisked the Peas, and we were done.
Oh. Good. More. Golden. Idols.
The category? Best Attitude! Those nominated:
Katrini Girl Darrell - she of little attire
Alexis Cohen - everyone's favorite purveyor of profanity from Season 7
Tiffany Shedd's Eyelashes - the girl who "learned to pee on the safe side"
Color me shocked. Shocked, I tell you! Katrina won! Woo hoo(ters)! Out she walked with forty extra pounds of hair on her head, shiny pink bikini in place, and some brand new boobs. Yes, even Simon was impressed, mouthing "Wow."
She made her way over to Ryan, gave him another dose of her DNA, and even he commented, "I was going to ask you 'What's new', but I think I know."
He then afforded her the opportunity to sing Vision of Love, so she strode to the center of the stage and began to take a steamy dump all over it. She sounded awful. I was surprised because I do remember the audition phase and her not being so bad paint would peel.
Suddenly, the screen behind her went up, and just as she was ready to launch into verse 2, there was Kara, who proceeded to vocally bitchslap Katrina.
I truly think Bikini Girl was surprised, and not very amused. But come on. She'd have to be as high as giraffe twat to not have seen this coming.
Kara can SANG. Katrina tried to join in, but didn't have a chance. Kara finished the song with a huge note and by ripping open her dress to reveal her own bikini.
I do believe Katrina Darrell dun got served.
And judging by the quick cut to David Cook in the audience, he thought the entire thing was stupid. Then again, a little thing like death of a loved one puts a lot into perspective.
AFTER THE BREAK Allison joined Cyndi Lauper on stage to sing Time After Time. I have never liked this song EXCEPT when sung by Cyndi, but this was actually really good. Their voices worked well together and Cyndi looks fabulous. (Have always loved her - anyone else remember her on Mad About You?)
Ryan then spent a moment with Kris's parents - both obviously proud - Mom, dressed to the 9s in a red chiffon gown (sorry, but more than a tad unflattering), and then he moved to the other side of the crowd to check in with Adam's folks who were *SHOCK!* both obviously proud.
Next up was Danny Gokey sitting on the stairs singing Lionel Richie's Hello. Danny's got a voice we will all definitely be hearing in a year. Lite FM was made for this kid. No big surprise that he was soon joined by Lionel, himself, looking very well preserved and wearing Adam's Mad World coat from last night.
They grooved through Lionel's newest song that every woman laughs at, Just Go. Like hell. I laughed my ass off the first time I listened to it on the radio.
So you can just chill And clear your head And let me do everything for you cause you deserve it Prepare your meal And make your bed Well let's just switch places with you cause you are so worth it.
Look, I have a good man. And this is still hilarious to me. Rudy cannot make the bed right to save his life, and were he to switch places with me for just ONE day? I'm pretty certain a fairly important vein about three inches behind his forehead would explode.
They finished with All Night Long, punctuated by Danny's inability to " Parti', Karamu', Fiesta" in any way, shape, or form. Get that boy to an Arthur Murray class.
Coming back from another break, Ryan rolled Adam's journey tape, and then Adam stood on the stage by the judges, a single spotlight illuminating his black leather, studs, platform boots, eyeliner, and sparkling shadow. Oh, and the totally unique use of Lacrosse baskets on his shoulders. It was like Project Runway crossed with Rock Star.
And then we heard it.
The opening piano chords of Beth.
NO FREAKING WAY was my first thought.
He sang the song, and then POOF!, the stage imploded and as the sparks fell to the ground, there they were, in all their silver booted, spandexed, bewigged, iconic glory - KISS.
Oh, how I have missed Gene's tongue. Adam's cannot even come close.
They partied through Detroit Rock City and I Want To Rock And Roll All Night, and if Kris seemed comfortable with Keith Urban? Adam was HOME. He fit in so completely, from the notes he hit, to the screaming he worked in, to the ten inch high platform boots. And the best part? There had to be a contestant like Adam or KISS would never have touched that stage.
THIS WAS AWESOME.
Another break and Carlos Santana took over the show. The guy is everywhere - on records, my shoes, champagne (cause it's so crisp - bonus points alert!). He strummed, as only Carlos can, to Black Magic Woman and then Hatt went and ruined it all by appearing and sleezing it up. Between his red satin shirt and his oozy looks into the camera...
As the band moved into Smooth, Hatt was quickly joined by the other Top 13, all dressed in black and red. The solos were fine, but when they all hit the chorus? Anything but Smooth. It was like getting an enema full of gravel. Probably the worst number of the night.
Ryan then rolled the final Ford Vommercial - a montage of all the other Vommercials with Adam and Kris singing I Will Remember You. It was actually kind of sweet.
Suddenly David Cook's face filled the screen and whispered, "Big surprise for Adam and Kris - no idea what's about to happen, so check it out."
If you didn't see what was coming, you deserve to be run over by a fleet of Fusions. David met them as they got out of their limo, walked them around a corner and presented them with keys to their own 2010 Fusion Hybrids.
With more time to fill (kill?), Ryan welcomed comedian and music lover Steve Martin to the stage. He was joined by his bandmates and Michael Sarver and a gorgeous Megan Corkery - I want that beige and brown chiffon dress.
As Steve strummed the banjo, they sang an original tune, Pretty Flowers, off his new CD.
I still think Michael has a future in Nashville. Megan? Well, cruise ships are always full of infectious singers (and Norwalk virus).
I wish Steve had done more than play the banjo - not sure what. Maybe a few notes of King Tut at the end?
ANOTHER break and the show returned to the strains of Do Ya Think I'm Sexy. The guys were on stage in dark suits and ties - you know, without the pressure of competing, Anoop has his sexyback. Hatt just continues to skeeve me out. And kudos to Scott - he handled the chorughraphy beautifully.
As they finished, Rod Stewart rose from the dead (ok, ok, he's not THAT old) - he rose from below the stage and carefully (don't want to break a hip) ambled down the stairs where he grabbed Matilda (did she have a tennis ball on the bottom???) and sang Maggie May.
Oh Rod.
Clad in plaid, his hair still a cockatoo atop his head, he was fine. Obviously not the swaggering, stretch pant clad singer of his youth - more like an ad for Geritol - but he still has that signature gravel in his throat and enjoys what he does.
Heck, he even had Paula's biscuits dancing.
Oh. No. Sadness. Only one Golden Idol left to give out?
This one was for Outstanding Female (as in female standing furthest outside the winner's circle).
Chelsea Marquardt - "I can't give any more" ... and we're glad.
Irene Anguelova - Somewhere Over The Rainbow bluebirds commit hari kari.
Dana Moreno - who sounded like she was being thrust Through The Fire as she auditioned.
Tatiana Nicole Del Toro - "I am a damned good vocalist."
Yes, Tatidrama took the honor, then she took the stage in too little taffeta to sing another verse of Saving All My Love as security guards pretended to chase her around.
Ha. Ha. Patience. Thin.
Moving on...
The break brought us back to Adam and Kris behind the judges singing the opening to We Are The Champions.
Which meant it was not long before the stage again exploded, revealing ... QUEEN! (And the Idol Tabernacle Choir). Like the appearance of KISS, this was a thoroughly enjoyable time. Yes, Kris was no match vocally with Adam, but no matter - everyone enjoyed it.
I do believe even Freddie was rocking on the other side as Adam filled his shoes with aplomb.
Sure, Adam could master every note Freddie ever scaled, but I think he has his eyes set on a solo career, not becoming a front man, even for one of the most famous groups in rock history.
One more break and it was FINALLY time for the results we waited all season for. Ryan asked Simon for his final words to the guys, "I thought you were both brilliant, incredibly nice people, and I think both of you should be very proud of what you achieved last night. The future's all yours."
Edward Boddington of Telescope then somberly walked the results envelope to Ryan, certified said results, and for the final time of 2009, the lights went down.
After five months, 654 million votes, and more than a few ruined manicures on this keyboard...
The winner of American Idol 2009 is ... KRIS ALLEN.
As Kris's mouth dropped open for about the fifteenth time this season, Adam pulled him into a bear hug - I think he was genuinely happy for Kris. Adam doesn't need a confetti shower - Simon is right, The future's his, regardless of the vote.
For his part, Kris was speechless, and when he managed to get some words out said, "It feels good, but Adam deserves this."
Yes, vocally Adam can go places no man has gone before, but Kris, you touched a helluva lot of people by being genuine, honest, sweet, and talented. You don't have to beat people over the head to make them recognize that.
Ryan presented him with the first ever AI Winner's Trophy - a heavy, hokey silver microphone, then as Adam hugged Kris again - they both laughed, and I have a feeling what Adam whispered to Kris was along the lines of, "Ha, ha dude. YOU have to sing that hot turd again."
And he did. The band played No Boundaries, Kris sang his way through it. It sucks. It sucks more than Do I Make You Proud, and that takes a lot of SUCK.
As he finished on the stage behind the judges, flanked by the Top 13, Nokia dandruff thick in the air, the sweetest moment of the season happened. His wife appeared and as she held him, he began to cry.
The nice guy finished FIRST.
Hell, a nice guy finished second and third, too.
It will be interesting to see how their careers play out. This group has a wealth of talent and their futures are bright indeed.
And so that wraps up another season of American Idol. I want to thank you all for coming along for the ride again. Thank you for your feedback, your harassment as I made you wait for the recaps, and as always, THANK YOU for making DGMS one of the stops as you travel through cyberspace.
If you came for the recaps, I hope you stick around for the rest. And if you are already a regular member of this family? Well, you know who loves you, baby. Now, I return you to your regularly scheduled lives - and as Norman Gentle put it - Peace Out.
Visual presentation. Originality. Concept. Menu. And, of course, taste.
All of the components we Bravo-TV addicts have come to recognize as the qualities which define a finale cook-off between two Top Chef contenders.
But, just as easily, these same qualities can be used to describe the two contestants left standing in the showdown at the Nokia.
On Top Chef, make no mistake, both finalists can julienne a carrot, sear a cut of meat, and pair it with a proper heady wine. They are chefs, that's what they do. But what separates them is their style, their vision, their presentation, their interpretation, and their ability to coax something new out of ingredients both tried and true.
Is a contestant one who embraces Wyley DuFresne bombast and creativity? Does he/she use chemistry + artistry (charmistry?) to create foams, suspensions, emulsions - foodstuffs which defy convention, but result in drama on the plate and excitement on the palate?
Or is he/she a student of the classics? No less adept at creating pleasure for the consumer, but who favors subtlety over theatrics. Creating comfort food for the soul, tastes both reassuring, yet also distinct. Deceivingly simple, yet you know you could not reproduce it on your own.
Harold, winner of Season 1 of Top Chef was the latter. He eschewed tricks and gimmicks and theatricality, sticking to what came naturally, serious food with serious taste. Plus, it didn't hurt that every single competitor liked the guy. He was NICE.
Adam Lambert and Kris Allen come from opposites sides of the aural kitchen.
Adam is a vocal El Bulli - churning out never before heard sounds, twists, flavors. His presentation is always dramatic, always exciting, always aimed at shocking the customer. It could be said that he is an acquired taste.
Kris is like Harold. Quiet, unassuming, but possessed of talents which have guided him to a spot in the finale. Meat and potatoes is Kris's bill of fare. And one never goes away hungry, although his presence means he has always left us wanting more.
Both guys can fricassee a note. Both of them can take an old ingredient like Disco Week and bring us something original (Kris's acoustic She Works Hard For The Money, Adam's take on If I Can't Have You).
At this point, there really is no loser. Both men deserve to be in the Nokia cooking up their specialties. What will separate them are we consumers. So where will your eardrums dine? Cafe Bombast headed up by Chef Adam? Or the Soul Food Cafe - Chef Kris behind the offerings?
The table's been set. Let's dig in...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The show opened with a crowd shot of the cattle call audition phase - hopefuls screaming, "I'm the next American Idol!" This segued into snippets from both Adam's and Kris's auditions in which they faced the camera and said:
Adam, "I am 1 of 100,000." (No, not really, as most of the 100,000 came to support, not sing.)
Kris, "I am the voice in the crowd that needs to be heard." (Which is amazing in its foreshadowing of underdogma (under dog + drama) as he has had to fight his way through the crowds who received face time. I still marvel at how much time was given to covering Bikini Girl's uncovered parts, and Norman Gentle's headbanded antics.)
The hyperbole then rolled - video of the judges throwing out words like brilliant, dark horse, rock god, big time, exciting, stunning - all interspersed with clips of Adam's tongue and Kris's smirk.
Two are left standing (the bodies of Jessie Langseth, Allison Iraheta, Anoop Desai made to sit), but only ONE can take it all. (Not really since at least five of the Top 6 will release albums in the next year.) But it is YOU who decides which will claim victory. THIS is the FINAL performance show (thank GOD), and T.I.A.I.
As the graphics finished rolling I was relieved to see they had allowed Ryan O'Hara to bring her staircase from Tara - she made her way to the bottom to greet 7,000 people who truly won't give a damn a two months from now. Life, and American Idol, are funny that way.
Acoustic rocker vs Glam rocker! Conway vs California! The guy next door vs The guy-liner! Ahhh, labels! They make we unwashed masses feel good.
He then greeted the judges - Randy of Hot Lava Bomb Used Cars, dressed in a purple checked shirt, plaid jacket, and a polka dot tie; Kara Still-Auditioning-For-A-Deodorant-Commercial Dio Guardi; Paula, freshly Mystic Tanned to Level 10 (she looked like a basted turkey in a Butterball ad) which set off her fluorescent green satin top; and Simon, who showed reverence for the setting and occasion in a white button down (UNbuttoned to show the down on his chest) and black suitcoat.
Adam and Kris then came out long enough to reveal the results of the coin toss - Kris won, choosing to sing second (smart young man - AI Commandment #25: Thou shalt never forsaketh an opportunity to snaggeth thy pimpeth spot.)
Each was set to sing 3 songs: one of their choosing from during the season; a song selected by AI creator Simon Fuller (what?!? No Clive Davis?? Is he even still alive?) And they would both be forced to sing the coronation anthem co-penned by Kara, called No Boundaries.
Ryan then warned that Wednesday night's show was not going to fit into the allotted two hours, so adjust your DVRs accordingly. I swear, two+ hours of fluff and filler and still that's not enough to reveal the results? Oh well, milk that cash cow, Idol, she's about to run dry for another seven months. Just be a gentleman and use some lotion first - her nipples are sore.
Adam chose to reprise Mad World, but not before they ran a video of his parents talking about how he used to scream every night till he was 18 months old. And after that, it was hard to take him anywhere in public because he was so loud and hyperactive. Color me shocked.
The smoke rolled across the stage, and Adam rose from below it - at least I think it was Adam. High atop Mt. Crumpet, with green lights glaring, it could have been the Grinch for all I could tell. Ahhh, wait, there he is. A vision in a black. A trenchcoat over JEANS, boots, a black T emblazoned with silver spaghetti, and finished off with fingerless gloves.
He milked the theatricality of the set as only Adam could do, slowly walking down the stairs, parting the sea of smoke as he reached the bottom. The song was almost secondary. And that was the problem. Yes, he sounded as good as when he sang it weeks back, but back then he had stayed focused solely on the song. Hell, given the Lambert Blues (lighting package available at all home improvement stores), you could hardly see him back then.
As for the song itself, I sense it is highly autobiographical for Adam. Face it, it is not easy to be an Adam as a teen. High schools are merciless places for those who are different. Only when they throw their cap into the air can they begin to look back at their unkind peers and go "Suck it."
Randy Tarlek (bonus points to those who get that reference) lauded Adam's "sensitive side" and gave him an "A+ on that one"; Kara called him "an incredible artist" and told him he "rocked it again tonight"; Paula said he was "astonishingly handsome" and that she was "unbelievably proud" of him; Simon said that while he "always thought it was your best performance" maybe, just maybe, this time was "over theatrical" in a "Phantom of the Opera" way.
It was then time to see Kris as a child - same face, only smaller. His mom lamented how they had to once pay him a quarter to sing for family and friends, but that a few years back he gave her coupons for her birthday - now when she wants a song, she can just present one of them and he has to warble on command.
Kris chose to reprise Ain't No Sunshine on the piano. Smart choice. Far enough back that I honestly could not really remember the first time he sang it. Dressed in JEANS, a Tshirt and black vest - did anyone else notice the boy has some serious guns?!?! - his performance highlighted everything that I love about him. He is more than a singer, he is a musician at heart. He understands finessing a song, emoting throughout - he was strong, connected, passionate.
Rozo The Clown called it "one of your best performances ever"; Kara agreed with Rozo and said Kris has "a way of creating an intimate bond with everybody in the audience"; Paula read something from the back of a Herbal Essence bottle: "You awaken the spirit in all of us with your unique way of Allenizing your trademark all over. Lather, rinse, repeat." Simon was candid, admitting that last week he wasn't sure if "America had made the right choice." Then he added, "I absolutely take all that back after that performance."
Round 1, per Simon: Kris.
Round 2 - Simon Fuller's choice, kicked off with Adam, resplendent in a shiny silver suit from the Jonas Brothers Collection, singing Change Is Gonna Come.
Wow. Truly. I loved how restrained he kept the vocal until well past the 2/3 mark and then he opened up, his tongue fell from his mouth, and he poured everything into the ending. I am always humbled by the sound and control he has - again, maybe not your first choice off the menu, but amazing nonetheless. And his ability to climb a note? Well, many a contestant tries and often gets up there only to find the ladder has fallen down and left them hanging. Not so, Adam. It's a smooth ascent, and an effortless glide back down.
Randy said again, "you can sing your face off" (perhaps that is why his tongue constantly falls from it?); Kara said, "that may have been your BEST performance and interpretation of a song from the beginning of this competition"; Paula cheered, "That was the best I've ever heard you sing, EVER."; Simon kept it brief: "You are 100% back in the game."
Coming back from the break, Kris began to sing Fuller's choice for him, What's Goin' On? Sitting on the stage, guitar in hand, casual in a gray long sleeved shirt and JEANS (no costumes for Kris), he was flanked by a drummer, a guitarist, and Kat McPhee's luggage abuser.
This left the focus on Kris and his interpretation of the song. And it's not a song that needs dicked with - Kris seemed to understand that, in fact, stripping it down brought the message across even louder. Again, meat and potatoes, here. Not chemical balancing and nitrous oxide reductions.
Randy called it "a little bit light" but that it was also "great"; Kara appreciated that he has "stayed true to yourself from Day 1"; Paula wittily said, "I know what's goin' on. You tore that song up and made Marvin Gaye proud."; Simon was not as impressed, likening to "three friends in their bedroom strumming along to Marvin Gaye" and adding it was "too laid back for a night like this."
Another break and we returned to Ryan surrounded by the discarded Top 13 - Anoop is still embracing argyle, and poor Scott, well, nobody told him which direction to face.
Adam was back for his final number, the Kara co-written song, No Boundaries - this year's Moment Like This Time Of My Proud Life.
Standing in the spotlight, dressed in acid abused JEANS and a jacket decorated on one shoulder with tire tread, Adam launched into a number I can only assume he had not been able to rehearse very much.
Whoa. There were bum notes, pitch issues, he was even Desperately Seeking Susan, if Susan had an oxygen tank with her. Yikes. NOT an Adam calibre performance. Yes, he had his big ending, and nailed those final notes, but overall? Methinks Adam was hating that song and that perforcemance of it.
Randy called it "a little pitchy in spots," "just aiight", but reiterated that Adam can "sing the phone book"; Kara said, "It is amazing when someone of your level of talent sings a song you've written. I'm moved, I'm proud, and thank you for giving me that moment." (So let me get this straight - it is all about Kara?) Paula was at a loss, "Adjectives can't express what you've brought to Season 8." And she called herself a "fan forever." Simon threw the whole contest idea out the window with, "I'm not going to judge you on that song, I'm going to judge you on the season. You have been one of the best, most original contestants we've ever had on the show. " Simon "genuinely believes" they have found a "worldwide star."
And I'm not going to quibble with that. Adam's rocket has been launched. He is going to have a huge future and more offers than a hooker on dollar night. I do take issue with not judging his last performance which, on a scale of 1 to Adam's best, sucked worse than that dollar hooker.
One more break and Kris took a whack at Kara's treacly song. In JEANS, a gray shirt, loose tie, and a black jacket buttoned up like the AC was too high, Kris began to sing, but he, too, looked like he was in the Seventh Circle.
Standing at Matilda, he seemed to connect with the lyrics better than Adam, but then his vocal train skidded off the tracks more than a few times. He obviously cannot do the cordal gymnastics which are the hallmark of his competitor, but he did his best. Even the East German judge would give him 7.9 for artistic effort and a clean dismount.
Randy called him an "amazing competitor" and said he thought the "song fits your voice better than Adam's"; Kara - THE WRITER - said, "I don't want you to be judged on that song, I do think it was too high." Then she called him a "compelling artist." Paula said "you deserve where you are in that spotlight"; and Simon agreed that he "thoroughly, thoroughly deserves to be standing on that stage."
The show ended with every screen in the Nokia rolling footage from the early auditions to the final songs, while Carrie Underwood sang Home Sweet Home. (Was it just me or was that not Carrie's best effort either?"
Watching the video, I caught myself smiling. Amazing what you forget as the months roll by. Bunny rabbits, windows almost taking out the entire judges' table, Bikini Girl swapping spit with Ryan, tears, angst, lip piercings, and delusions aplenty.
All reminders of why we return to this show each January. Delusions. There is never a shortage. Cheap gas? Mortgages? Money for college? Yep - all in short supply. But not delusions. We have a bumper crop, rain or shine. And as long as we have our delusions, the terrorists can't win.
So, now we are down to the results. How do you think things will pan out? Meat & potatoes or something jazzier with a port wine reduction?
Yes, Adam is obviously more worthy from a vocal standpoint, but those Danny voters share the same demographic pie slice with Kris fans. Methinks an upset could be in the offing.
Oh hell, either way, these guys are never looking back. Fortune is shining on them, and I am happy to say that this season, BOTH finalists are equally deserving of the honor, and the menu is richer for them both being on it.
Before I get into the recap, a couple housekeeping items...
Jill - YES. I pulled up Tuesday's show and Simon was covered in forenSICK evidence of Paula's molestation and assault.
Kris's wife's belly. I agree, she looks a tad fuller than when we started down this road. If, in fact, there is a baby in the offing - congrats to them. That child will be a doll.
And to everyone who enjoyed yesterday's recap - THANK YOU. I've said it before - by the time I get done writing these things I have lost all perspective as to whether I managed to make any of the show funny or not.
Quite a few of you emailed asking how I come up with intros like the Tale of Two Cities. Simple. I don't have a freaking clue. I can tell you WHEN it came to me. That would be roughly 2:47am Wednesday morning. I was in bed listening to the ^&%$#! cats play with their jingle ball toys downstairs and I was trying to decide how to title the recap. Two songs. What has two? Songs are sometimes called ditties. Tale of Two Ditties? Coool. Now go back to sleep, you pathetic woman.
The title would have been fine, but I made the mistake of pulling up the intro in the book - I remembered from reading it in high school - "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." But then as I read the entire opening, my mind began associating moments from this season with each line.
THAT is why the recap was so late in being posted yesterday. Once I got the idea, my stupid, naggy mind would not let go of it, so I had to find a photo for everything.
So there you have it. Middle of the night. Slightly OCD around the edges when it comes to taking an idea to its fullest. And cats who have no business playing with jingle balls at 247am.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The results show opened with Ben Stiller addressing the masses: Last night, Ryan Seacrest was injured in a horrible bikini waxing accident (and apparently all the hair that was pulled out was then glued onto Ben's head (looking a little scruff there, Zoolander). I'm Ben Stiller, and THIS is the American Idol DESK.
(WARNING - CRAFTY MOVIE PIMPAGE TAKING PLACE)
With the help of his costars in the upcoming Night At The Museum sequel, Ben explained that the American Idol judges' desk was soon to be going to a place of honor at the Smithsonian with other "historical, iconic ... stuff."
I'll leave it at that. Yes, in the pantheon of pop culture, American Idol certainly has its place, but I get a tad indignant at the constant product / movie / CD placements we are forced to sit through.
After the graphics rolled, Gloryan Swansen drifted down her staircase...
(You just know that since the staircase retracted on Debbie-The-Stage-Manager, Ryan's O-ring goes into a vapor lock of fear each time he walks down them.)
As he began to address the crowd, the camera caught the judges' desk and the empty chair of Ms. Abdul. What? Not in her chair on time? Would we be denied her cashewy presence?
Ryan explained that over 88 million votes came in after Tuesday's show, with just over 1 million separating the top two vote getters. Go America! Way to burn up those phone lines!
A hello to the judges revealed the newest Teletubbie, Rinky Winky, looking fine in bright purple; Kara Dio Right Guardi auditioning for yet another antiperspirant commercial; Paula *POOF* was suddenly in her seat dressed like Miss Kitty's whorish cousin from the next county over, Miss Titty. Her hair was up, yet down, her boobs were threatening to break through the saloon doors of her bustier. Really. Who dresses this woman? For his part, Simon learned his lesson - he wore dark gray to better hide any fallout from Paula's troweled on make-up (she looked like she had been punched in both eyes).
Ryan then rolled the Vommercial, this one set to Break My Stride. This VOMM found the guys walking around the corner of a city street to get in their spiffy Ford Mustang, only to have their progress impeded by three vicious, slobbering dogs.
No worries! Adam is able to go all A Ha / Take On Me and cartoon himself through a wall where he finds a cartoon steak grilling on a cartoon stove. He throws it to the dogs and they are able to get in their car.
But wait! You can't ride around in a convertible on a cloudy day! Kris A Ha's himself, too, and chases the clouds away.
Finally, faced with Fusion gridlock, Danny emerges from the car, and like Moses, parts the Ford Sea so they can drive through.
Instead of the Vommercial driving right into THE GROUP SONG, this time we were treated to Keep A Child Alive Ambassador, Alicia Keys, gorgeous in a simple beige bubble dress and flowing locks, walking out onto stage to talk about her experiences working in Africa. She spoke of the "resilience and courage" of all the children and then introduced a young man named Noah whose dream it is to record an album to help raise money to fight HIV in his country.
OK, shameless heartstring plucking, but so what. He was adorable. Dressed like a mini Kanye West, Noah came out on stage to sing I'm The World's Greatest - he was dressed in silver and green high tops, JEANS, a shiny t-shirt, and a leather jacket - AND he was having the time of his young life.
Is he a great singer? Um. Noooo. But that was really beside the point. What he didn't give my eardrums. he made up for by giving my face - a HUGE SMILE.
AFTER THE BREAK, the Top 3 were shown backstage and Ryan called Danny out to watch the footage from his trip back to Milwaukee. In the video there was, of course, the private jet, a stretch SUV, police escorts, screaming fans, a requisite local FOX affiliate appearance, radio shows, etc.
And then he got to meet up with BFF Jamar, and that was sweet. The guys are tight and I always like it when men are able to escape the machismo factor and just show raw emotion.
The video then highlighted a crazy woman in pink plaid pants and a feather boa frantically chasing his limo, then a parade where a little girl summed up his appeal, "He's cute, he's got good glasses, and he lives in Milwaukee!"
Sigh - I can almost hear Laverne and Shirley singing about making their dreams come true...
For his part, especially during the parade, Danny was truly overwhelmed by the show of support. Thousands upon thousands of people turned out to watch him receive the key to the city, to hear him perform, watch him throw out the first pitch...
For Danny, it was ten months since he lost Sophia, and I'm sure it was, as he put it, "a bittersweet homecoming."
Ryan then took the lights down, recapped all the critiques from the night before and then ... revealed NOTHING. Go sit down, Danny.
Then it was Kris's turn to come out and watch his private jet ride back to Arkansas, his FOX appearance, his radio shows, his performances. Over 20K people turned out to scream and hear him perform at the Riverfest Amphitheater in Little Rock.
How surreal must it be for these guys? They left these hometowns as nobodies and now they are welcomed back as conquering heroes. Pretty cool.
His wife rode beside him in the parade, Kris Allen Day was proclaimed, and his video wrapped up with him humbly telling 20K screaming fans, "You've changed my life ... thank you SO much."
(My favorite piece of his trip tape? The long, emotional hug from his dad in the driveway. I teared up.)
Ryan then recapped last night's two songs and sent Kris to wait with Danny.
Twelve more commercials, and we came back to see that Season 6 winner, Jordin Sparks, is no longer a little girl.
OK, ok - at six foot thirteen, she has never been a little girl, but WHOA, girlfriend has grown up. She looked amazing - tall as ever, but totally toned up, hair all touseled, like an Amazonian Beyonce. The girl looked HOT. She wore a strapless black dress covered with shimmering sequins and worked the stage like a seasoned pro.
Her voice is as big as I remember, but it now issues from a strong, confident woman. The only bad part of the performance? That final shot of her face. It said, I'm-Now-Going-To-Suck-Your-Brains-Out-Through-Your-Eye-Sockets.
Another break and it was time to return to San Diego with Adam. Private jet, stretch limo, police escort, and TONS of screaming fans - face it, he's a rock star. After appearing on his local FOX affiliate and applying eye shadow to the weather girl, he did some radio shows and was followed everywhere by Bubba the Body guard. That guy was HUGE.
I liked his return to the Metropolitan Educational Theater where he grew up performing - that was a nice touch, especially him answering questions from the little kids. He was then swept away to Mt. Carmel High School where he rode around the track like the Homecoming King (Yes, I considered typing 'queen', but figured someone out there would accuse me of being rude - not so.) and then as he prepared to perform, a girl ripped off her top and rushed the stage, only to be stopped by Bubba.
Poor Adam. Get used to it, buddy. The underwear is going to be flying fast and furious from now on. (Even Clay and Ruben had a collection of it they traveled with - it had everything from thongs to granny panties that had been thrown up during their concerts.)
His video wrapped up with a visit to Miramar - the Marine Corps Air Station - where he sang the National Anthem in front of a flag the size of my house.
With the lights down, Ryan rambled through last night's critiques and then sent him to squash a cushion with Kris and Danny.
Coming back from the break, Ryan was sitting with the guys and Danny complained, "Let's just get to it - enough commercials, enough playing around..." He was cut off by Adam hollering, "I want to see Katy Perry!"
Wish granted, Adam. In fact, Katy's Waking Up In Vegas act opened with a shot of her white satin cape which had been stitched with the words ADAM LAMBERT.
I do believe you have another fan, Adam.
Katy was dressed like a 70's era Elvis if he had had nice legs and boobs (not moobs) - killer collar, lots of rhinestones and satin, and her backup dancers were decked out in Las Vegas showgirl costumes - feathers were in abundance.
But this performance was no jackpot. More like winning on a penny machine downtown at the Slots-O-Fun. Woo. Freaking. Hoo.
I like Miss Perry's music and never change the station when she comes on the radio, but this LIVE performance was not good. She was pitchy, off kilter, out of breath, and a little manic.
Kind of like Waking Up In Vegas with a bad hangover. (Not that I would know what's that like ... lately...)
Her act ended with a confetti shower and a contest with Paula to see who had the most cleavage. I think it was a draw.
One more break and it was finally time to put the guys and America out of the collective misery we were all feeling.
With the boys at center stage, Ryan announced that "The first person competing in next week's finale is.... " and then he reached over and slapped KRIS in the stomach ... "KRIS!"
You could have driven a tractor trailer through Kris's mouth. He was SHOCKED. His wife was overjoyed. And his father was in tears.
Ryan then asked the question, "Who competes against Kris?"
The answer? Adam. And I believe the relief in his body and on his face was real. I truly think Adam was actually worried how this might go down - regardless of Katy Perry's embroidery.
They all embraced and then Ryan rolled Danny's journey tape. Halfway through, I needed a Kleenex. It started with a wedding photo of he and Sophia, and her presence and inspiration was shown throughout.
Danny has had his naysayers. Those who think HE exploited his backstory. I don't think it has ever been him trading on his personal tragedy. The producers? Um, yeah. Nothing is sacred to them.
For Danny, it has all been real. Real emotion. Real struggle. Real REAL. A reality none of us can imagine.
I once told a friend who had suffered a miscarriage that while she would never forget, in time she would forgive what had happened to her. I knew this from experience.
Danny knows this from experience. He is an example of not forgetting, but of forgiving what life has handed him and refusing to let it adversely dictate the course of his life.
His eyes have always been forward - yes, also upward - but definitely forward. He knows he cannot change what has happened, but he sure as hell can control his walk into the future.
And for that, not this whole superficial Idol thing, I think Sophia would be very proud.
Congratulations, Danny. Sometimes nice guys finish third.
Give us any chance, we'll take it. Give us any rule, we'll break it. We're gonna make our dreams come true. Doin' it our way.
Nothin's gonna turn us back now, Straight ahead and on the track now. We're gonna make our dreams come true, Doin' it our way.
There is nothing we won't try, Never heard the word impossible. This time there's no stopping us. We're gonna do it.
On your mark, get set, and go now, Got a dream and we just know now, We're gonna make our dream come true. And we'll do it our way, yes our way. Make all our dreams come true, And do it our way, yes our way, Make all our dreams come true For me and you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S.
Yes, I, too, loved Kris's reaction to Simon's "big ding dong" comment. Little Kris has a little bit of a dirty mind...
With the lights shining down on their bodies, Adam, Danny, and Kris looked more like Spock, McCoy, and Kirk, Captain James T, being beamed onto a barren planet, than contestants on a reality show.
They have become heroes in their hometowns (yes, Milwaukee was desperately in need of something to bring them Laverne and Shirley levels of fame once again). But tonight, who can garner the support of the nation? (Garnering is hard work.) We are ONE week away from the finale (thank you, Jesus). THESE are your Top 3 (Spock, McCoy, and Kirk, Captain James T). And T.I.A.I.
Roll graphics of ruffied up cyborgs...
The Countess de LesSTEPS (Real Housewives watchers will have to help those who don't get it) once again swept down the staircase of her MANse. (Ryan, seriously, you have slipped on the juices of douchebaggery - the staircase entrance has now slid into Sunset Boulevard territory.)
He patted the show on its back for this being the 300th episode of American Idol (my God, no wonder my writing hand hurts) and then greeted the judges:
Grandpa Jackson in his Mr. Rogers cardigan; Kara-The-Pittster Dio Guardi again showing the world her clean close shave; Paula jumped up out of her seat like a Crack-in-the-Box to reveal a bustier resplendent with black sequins and a Reynold's Wrap apron; Simon crawled from bed to top drawer, grabbed one of 1,000 white Hanes, and rolled in.
The Top 3 then walked out as the space doors parted - they looked like an ad for Dudes 'r Us - denim in abundance, hair products shimmering in their coifs, army boots, some sprinklings of leather...
Ryan then explained they would each be singing two songs - one chosen by the judges - that yo-yo-package-artist-seeking-bunnies-butterflies-rainbows-ghastly braintrust - the other a personal pick.
As they each spent last week flying off to their respective hometowns, there is footage galore - but we will only get a snippet in this ep as they need most of it to stuff another Build-A-Bore results show on Wednesday.
Up first, Danny receiving a text message from Paula during an appearance at a radio station. Make them play my new song!
OK, ok, it didn't say that.
The text indicated her choice of song for Danny - Dance Little Sister - Terence Trent D'Arby's version, not the Rolling Stones (I do believe any attempt by Danny to ape Mick would result in him popping some much needed vein in the middle of his head).
The DJ asked "How do you feel about it?" Props to Danny for being honest, "Um, I don't know it. That's how I feel."
But with four days to learn it, he stepped out on stage in JEANS, a dark shirt, and a jacket from the Ahmadinejad Collection. For an upbeat number, he spent most of it hiding behind Matilda, finally ripping off her head over halfway through to engage in a scat contest with a saxaphone (the sax won).
He had Danny-level energy (meaning glass of sugary Kool-Aid, not case of Red Bull), flopped about enthusiastically, and he sounded decent enough - the song worked well with his Michael McDonald-I-swallow-a-handful-of-gravel-before-each-performance vocal.
Randy started with "Let the games begin!" quickly moving into "way to jump it off tonight, Danny!" He finished with it being "dope for me." (Yes, like Prozac, it could certainly put the "Eh" in your day); Kara, wearing what looked like a necklace from the Jurassic Park Collection, commented that the "dancing was a little too gyrating for me" (She obviously never went to Studio 57 before); Paula defended him to Kara, saying it was "really good dancing" (she is obviously using her own performance on Idol as a barometer); Simon called the dancing "a bit desperate" (DWTS is one stage over, guys), but that Danny was "vocally very, very good."
And then, because this show is really all about the sophomoric quartet behind the desk, Paula punched Simon in the moob (man boob) while Ryan attempted to talk to Danny.
The break brought us back to Kris's trip to Arkansas where he (love the chipped up blue nail polish, Krisney Spears) was gifted with a brand new cellphone courtesy of AT&T. What's this?!?!? Holy Can-You-Hear-Me-Now? there's already a text message on it! It's from Kara and Randy!
They chose Apologize by One Republic for Kris's first song because as Randy said, "It's a big song, big range, and he's got a big voice."
Eschewing his guitar, Kris opted to play the piano - nice touch - but as soon as he hit the first chorus I knew he was going to be bent over that keyboard and get effed in the A for not changing the song. He sounded perfectly fine - stellar compared to David Archuleta's Sweeny Todding of the song last season - but that falsetto? Yowch. Sheep sound like that when they are being slaughtered.
You remember, don't you, Clarice?
Randy babbled about "this being the kind of artist you can be" and said, "nice, baby, very nice"; Kara called it a "really competent performance" but then she slammed him down on the piano and went to work, reaming him out for not making it his own, not taking chances; Paula let him stand back up, even helped him pull his pants back to his waist, and consoled him with, "That bum note (I don't think she meant the sound he made when Kara ripped into him) was loud, but I'm proud of you"; Simon looked at her and shook his head, "How can you say 'There was a bum note, but I'm proud of you'?" He then called Kara's critique a copout because she chose the song and if she wanted it sung a certain way, the onus (not to be confused with anus) was on her to tell him.
As Ryan began to talk to Kris, Kara acted worse than Paula, stood behind Simon, and clasped both hands over his mouth.
You know, even obnoxious five year olds were watching this with their parents and going, "Day-um, that's just not right. Timeout for you!"
Another break and then we got to see Adam, strategically positioned in a San Diego parking lot directly in front of an AT&T store, receiving his text message from Simon who chose U2's One for him to sing. And then Simon made a special point to let everyone know he spoke directly to King Bono to get permission for Adam to eat the song.
And dine he did.
Standing at Matilda, bathed in what have become Adam Lambert Blues (soon to be available in all Home Depot lighting departments), he wore JEANS and an untucked denim shirt. Nothing fancy, but then his voice is accessory enough.
I may still prefer the U2 version, but Adam did not dishonor it in any way. From soft to hard, slow to fast - he made beautiful love to it - the only thing that momentarily gave me pause was when he walked forward and sang on his own face while his tongue was hanging out of his maw - he did a solid job. (Note: I spent some time on YouTube yesterday listening and watching many of his stage performances - that kid can SANG his ass off. LISTEN TO HIM IN BRIGADOON He does not need to win this thing. In fact, I am now hoping he does not. I don't want to have to endure him having to endure singing some A Moment Like This In My Life Are You Proud Of Me? coronation tune.)
Randy called it an "unbelievable vocal" and while he did not exactly like the arrangment, Adam is a "really, really talented guy" (and that is really, really the biggest understatement of Season 8); Kara called him "an amazing strategist"; Paula couldn't just critique but had to dis Simon, "You don't know how miserable my life is right now sitting next to him gloating..." (Paula, dear, he's had to sit next to you for eight seasons, gloating, floating, falling, and blurble-ing every mental fart that escapes your cerebellum.) She finally got around to telling him it was "one brilliant song, one superb performance, and one American Idol that I'm staring at right now."
For his part, Simon cheekily began with, "Brilliant song choice" but then got serious, calling it a "brilliant, brilliant, brilliant performance" and "If you're not in the finals next week, it will be one of the biggest upsets of this competition."
Well, true enough. But given the level of pimping? Methinks they are afraid of that actually happening. Adam certainly doesn't need anyone selling his vocal ability for him, so it seems the producers know just how unexciting a finale without Adam in one of the spots will be.
It would be a balladnale.
AFTER THE BREAK
they filled some time with a trip to Angola, Africa to show Carrie Underwood handing out mosquito nets purchased with the over $140 million Idol Gives Back has collected over the past two years.
I just enjoyed the children. A child's smile is a child's smile is a child's smile - regardless of where it is located. It is precious, it is a gift, it needs protected. End of story.
Another break and Ryan met with Danny on the Chat Chairs to discuss the "tough decision" behind the next song - after sorting through scads of options, Danny ultimately chose Joe Cocker's You Are So Beautiful To Me.
OK, personally, I love this tune. It's on my iPod, and what makes it so perfect is Joe's imperfect, gravelly, impassioned, raw vocal. I slightly cringed when Danny said he chose it. Not because I did not think he could pull it off - of course he can, it's a ballad - but because he's done so many eyes-to-Heaven songs where the viewers get almost uncomfortable as his dead wife again is subconsciously inserted into the performance. I do not begrudge him his motivations, I just know that many viewers are tired of feeling manipulated.
Sitting on a stool, guitar player on one side, string quartet on the other, Danny looked handsome in his 9 o'clock shadow of scruff, white dress shirt rolled to the elbows, fitted vest, and tie. He started off very restrained, soft, eased in and out of his falsetto, then rolled into some big notes - the passion was believable - and then he brought it in for a soft landing.
I won't be replacing Joe's version with Danny's, but well done.
Randy said "you showed you can really, really, REALLY sing"; Kara called it "stunning"; Paula said he left us all "breathless"; and Simon was very generous, "I would call that a vocal master class."
BEEP BEEP BEEP - PIMPING ALERT - BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PURPLE VELVET, FEATHERED HATS, AND PLATFORM SHOES WITH GOLDFISH IN THE HEELS!! BEEP BEEP BEEP
Kris was next to sing his choice - Heartless by Kanye Waste - er sorry, I mean WEST.
In a simple black shirt and JEANS, Kris stood at Matilda and began singing a stripped down - seriously, no hubcaps, the radio was gone, hell, even the upholstery was missing - version. All there was, was Kris and his acoustic guitar, and once again - it doesn't happen every season, mind you - magic was made.
Think Fantasia's Summertime (the FIRST time, not the third), Kat's Somewhere Over The Rainbow (the FIRST time, not the second), and Bo Bice's barefoot, acapella version of In A Dream. It was a moment in which all that mattered was the vocal and the ability of the contestant to hold the audience.
Kris's version was amazing - in that moment, I finally decided, I want HIM in the final. He has earned it - in some ways even more than Adam - because Adam has been pimped since the first round of auditions. Kris had to literally sing his way from obscurity to this position.
Randy said the first intelligent thing he's said in months, "This is gonna be one of the toughest voting nights." He then blasphemed, "I liked it even better than Kanye's version." Oh Randy, did you not see the Fish Sticks episode of South Park - don't make Kanye mad, dude...
Kara called it "bold, brave, fearless"; Paula said "Bravo"; Simon admitted that after Kris sang Apologize he "had written you out - that all changed after that performance."
One more break and it was Adam's turn to close the show - THANK. GOD. He needs the pimp spot. - He took the stage in JEANS, army boots, a shiny t-shirt, and his leather jacket to sing Aerosmith's Cryin'.
No big surprise - he was great - which is probably the worst thing that can be said about Adam - he's so damned consistent. Every note, every line - all sung pitch perfect. He's a performer - period. Without a doubt he deserves to be in the finals - hell, if it is truly a singing competition, just throw some confetti on him now and make him sing You Are So Proud Of My Life Moment.
Randy called Adam "one of the best we've ever had on this stage. You should be a rock star."; Kara said he was "amazing" and "We will see you at the finals"; Paula's mental plane crashed and she babbled something about, "I hope you're collecting frequent flier miles - you're going to be flying for free everywhere."; Simon, in a purple velvet suit with leopard trim, and a feather in his jazzy hat said, "It's easy to assume you're going to sail through" and then warned everyone they had better vote for him or Rooster Cowell was gonna put a hurt on 'em.
And now we wait. I think it is completely possible to see Adam shown the door (to major success) when the results are revealed. Then again, it could just as easily be Danny. The only one I think is truly safe, is KRIS - the guy no one knew for many, many, many weeks.
Tune in tonight to see which two get a shot at bathing in confetti, having their hair set ablaze by too many stage pyrotechnics, and getting to sing I Believe In My Proud Life Moment!
For whom will it be the best of times? And for which unlucky fellow will it be the worst?
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