TEN YOUNG WOMEN, FIVE PLUNGING NECKLINES
this...is american idol.
After sixteen months and five hundred sixty-five
posts, I had not, until tonight, gotten around to trying an exercise in live
blogging. But this afternoon, thinking about possible TWM posts and knowing how
much the boys were looking forward to watching
American
Idol, the inspiration finally struck. It would
provide plenty of fodder, but it would also be a nice, disposal subject that
could be easily forgotten if I screwed it
up.
I'll let you — like Randy, Paula, and Simon — be the judge.
8:15pm, PVR'd and slightly time-shifted for bath time, PowerBook open.
Less than two minutes in, Ryan Seacrest — whose jeans look like he’s been eating cake and wiping his hands on them — is already trying to pick a fight with Simon Cowell. He needs to stop this. Immediately. Anyone who watches the show knows that they’re really friends. And anyone who listens to the two banter knows that Seacrest’s wit and intellect are to Cowell’s what N*Sync’s albums are to the Rolling Stones’.
First up: Katharine McPhee and her plunging neckline, preceded by the season’s first shocking lesbian moment: a video clip of roommates Katherine and Kelli Pickler leaping and laughing and hugging on a bed. It’s an awkward moment, and it overshadows the performance, which is typically strong voice but atypically weak presence. Maybe it’s the song. Maybe it’s the hair that keeps flopping in her face. Maybe it’s the outfit, which looks like some bloated paisley maternity dress. Bad choices abound, but she’ll survive on the Bound/Brokeback vote alone.
Next: Kinnik Sky, with cowboy hat, bustier, and what appears to be radioactive lip gloss. I’m trying to concentrate on the song — some Gretchen Wilson kerfluffle about a wild party — but I’m too mesmerized by the shellac on her face actually to listen. I’m thinking it’s going to take some steel wool and maybe some sandblasting to get it off. Simon compares her performance to something he’d see at Disney World. I’m thinking it’s a small world — and a bad song — after all.
Now Lisa Tucker, who gives a smooth, soulful performance almost good enough to make me forget about her video intro, in which — speaking of Disney; is this show on FOX or ABC? — we had to hear for the four hundred thirty-seventh time that she once performed on stage in The Lion King. I’m guessing she played Nala, but if we get that little bit of bio one more time, I’m going to imagine that she played Scar. Or maybe one of the hyenas.
Melissa McGhee spends all two minutes of her intro video talking about her clothes, her sandals, and her exposed toes at some god-awful photo shoot. We never get to see her toes, but we do get the first navel sighting of the season, with an unbuttoned shirt and a stud glistening above her jeans line. It seems awfully early for so many people to be playing the sex card. And you’d think they would have learned from Becky O’Donoghue’s early exit last week. A nice, husky performance of a bland, bouncy Reba McEntire song. Simon tries to tell her that, but Randy and Paula interrupt, interject, and otherwise babble over him as he never does to them. He tells them to shut up. I applaud.
Heather Cox -- who’s still around for two big reasons, neither of which is her voice -- declares she’s going to sing Mariah Carey’s Hero. She does. It sounds more like Villain. In truth, it is better than last week’s performance, but that’s like saying that getting stabbed is better than getting shot. Randy takes the opportunity once more to mention that he’s worked with Mariah Carey. Wherever she is, Mariah Carey cringes. But not nearly as much as Heather, who’s grimacing like Paul O’Neill in the World Series and showing all of America that she can’t take one scintilla of criticism. I imagine her showing that face again on Thursday night.
Brenna Gethers now. Bad dangly earrings. Bad sequined dress. Bad singer. I’m gonna own it tonight, she says. She does not say what. I, for one, am hoping it's the record for the fewest votes. In what may be the most self-reflexive moment in the history of the show, she begins Donna Summer’s Last Dance with some awkward version of the Captain Morgan pose -- if she's trying to be sexy, she's failing miserably -- and the lines, Cause I’m bad, I’m so, so bad. Yes, you are, Brenna. Yes, you are. Paula Abdul criticizes her. She responds, I think America loved it, and I think that will be reflected in the votes. Randy criticizes her. She tells him no. Simon criticizes her. I'm sensing a trend. Two people in the audience boo and seem to rise to her defense. It's more likely they're just booing her.
Paris Bennett. No plunging neckline, thankfully, but a three-tiered diamond choker that makes me think, unfortunately, of another, only slightly less annoying Paris. Wind Beneath My Wings. If she’s going to oversing — and she always does — she’s at least chosen a song that can support it. All three judges agree...she was seventeen going on fifty for that performance.
Ayla Brown is tall. Ryan Seacrest is not. When they stand together, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt him. When she says she’s going to sing a Celine Dion song, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt me. She doesn’t. The song is big and bad and treacly, but she somehow manages to pull it off. Simon makes an excellent point about needing a litle rawness, about not overpolishing and overperfecting the life out of something when you’re working hard for it. This is excellent advice for these singers, for my students, for anyone who’s ever going to stand in front of an audience. If there’s not at least a little bit of edge, you seem too safe, too distant, too inauthentic. In short, you seem like...
Kellie Pickler. Doing Bonnie Raitt. Not a good choice. The song is rough and tough and bluesy. You have to have an edge even to come close to Bonnie. But Kellie's got fewer edges than a dodgeball. She's trying, but not succeeding. I half expect Simon to give one of his a poodle trying to sing like a doberman metaphors. Instead, he talks about calamari and calls her cute. Close enough.
Mandisa now, in a dress that makes her look like Darth Vader. (Nooooooooooooooooo!) The force is with her, though, because it only takes a few notes before we’re reminded that she’s the most commanding and powerful performer among the women. Total control. Great range. And all the authority of James Earl Jones brandishing a light saber. They saved the best for last.
One more run through the ten contestants, a reminder of the phone numbers, and a shot of the judges — Simon, his head in his hands, looks like I feel — before the wrap, the nervous-smile waves, and the credits roll.
If there's justice in the world and sense on the phones, it's a pretty easy call. Going home this week: Heather Cox (and her breasts), and Brenna Gethers (and her mouth). None of the five of them will be missed.
I'll let you — like Randy, Paula, and Simon — be the judge.
8:15pm, PVR'd and slightly time-shifted for bath time, PowerBook open.
Less than two minutes in, Ryan Seacrest — whose jeans look like he’s been eating cake and wiping his hands on them — is already trying to pick a fight with Simon Cowell. He needs to stop this. Immediately. Anyone who watches the show knows that they’re really friends. And anyone who listens to the two banter knows that Seacrest’s wit and intellect are to Cowell’s what N*Sync’s albums are to the Rolling Stones’.
First up: Katharine McPhee and her plunging neckline, preceded by the season’s first shocking lesbian moment: a video clip of roommates Katherine and Kelli Pickler leaping and laughing and hugging on a bed. It’s an awkward moment, and it overshadows the performance, which is typically strong voice but atypically weak presence. Maybe it’s the song. Maybe it’s the hair that keeps flopping in her face. Maybe it’s the outfit, which looks like some bloated paisley maternity dress. Bad choices abound, but she’ll survive on the Bound/Brokeback vote alone.
Next: Kinnik Sky, with cowboy hat, bustier, and what appears to be radioactive lip gloss. I’m trying to concentrate on the song — some Gretchen Wilson kerfluffle about a wild party — but I’m too mesmerized by the shellac on her face actually to listen. I’m thinking it’s going to take some steel wool and maybe some sandblasting to get it off. Simon compares her performance to something he’d see at Disney World. I’m thinking it’s a small world — and a bad song — after all.
Now Lisa Tucker, who gives a smooth, soulful performance almost good enough to make me forget about her video intro, in which — speaking of Disney; is this show on FOX or ABC? — we had to hear for the four hundred thirty-seventh time that she once performed on stage in The Lion King. I’m guessing she played Nala, but if we get that little bit of bio one more time, I’m going to imagine that she played Scar. Or maybe one of the hyenas.
Melissa McGhee spends all two minutes of her intro video talking about her clothes, her sandals, and her exposed toes at some god-awful photo shoot. We never get to see her toes, but we do get the first navel sighting of the season, with an unbuttoned shirt and a stud glistening above her jeans line. It seems awfully early for so many people to be playing the sex card. And you’d think they would have learned from Becky O’Donoghue’s early exit last week. A nice, husky performance of a bland, bouncy Reba McEntire song. Simon tries to tell her that, but Randy and Paula interrupt, interject, and otherwise babble over him as he never does to them. He tells them to shut up. I applaud.
Heather Cox -- who’s still around for two big reasons, neither of which is her voice -- declares she’s going to sing Mariah Carey’s Hero. She does. It sounds more like Villain. In truth, it is better than last week’s performance, but that’s like saying that getting stabbed is better than getting shot. Randy takes the opportunity once more to mention that he’s worked with Mariah Carey. Wherever she is, Mariah Carey cringes. But not nearly as much as Heather, who’s grimacing like Paul O’Neill in the World Series and showing all of America that she can’t take one scintilla of criticism. I imagine her showing that face again on Thursday night.
Brenna Gethers now. Bad dangly earrings. Bad sequined dress. Bad singer. I’m gonna own it tonight, she says. She does not say what. I, for one, am hoping it's the record for the fewest votes. In what may be the most self-reflexive moment in the history of the show, she begins Donna Summer’s Last Dance with some awkward version of the Captain Morgan pose -- if she's trying to be sexy, she's failing miserably -- and the lines, Cause I’m bad, I’m so, so bad. Yes, you are, Brenna. Yes, you are. Paula Abdul criticizes her. She responds, I think America loved it, and I think that will be reflected in the votes. Randy criticizes her. She tells him no. Simon criticizes her. I'm sensing a trend. Two people in the audience boo and seem to rise to her defense. It's more likely they're just booing her.
Paris Bennett. No plunging neckline, thankfully, but a three-tiered diamond choker that makes me think, unfortunately, of another, only slightly less annoying Paris. Wind Beneath My Wings. If she’s going to oversing — and she always does — she’s at least chosen a song that can support it. All three judges agree...she was seventeen going on fifty for that performance.
Ayla Brown is tall. Ryan Seacrest is not. When they stand together, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt him. When she says she’s going to sing a Celine Dion song, I’m afraid she’s going to hurt me. She doesn’t. The song is big and bad and treacly, but she somehow manages to pull it off. Simon makes an excellent point about needing a litle rawness, about not overpolishing and overperfecting the life out of something when you’re working hard for it. This is excellent advice for these singers, for my students, for anyone who’s ever going to stand in front of an audience. If there’s not at least a little bit of edge, you seem too safe, too distant, too inauthentic. In short, you seem like...
Kellie Pickler. Doing Bonnie Raitt. Not a good choice. The song is rough and tough and bluesy. You have to have an edge even to come close to Bonnie. But Kellie's got fewer edges than a dodgeball. She's trying, but not succeeding. I half expect Simon to give one of his a poodle trying to sing like a doberman metaphors. Instead, he talks about calamari and calls her cute. Close enough.
Mandisa now, in a dress that makes her look like Darth Vader. (Nooooooooooooooooo!) The force is with her, though, because it only takes a few notes before we’re reminded that she’s the most commanding and powerful performer among the women. Total control. Great range. And all the authority of James Earl Jones brandishing a light saber. They saved the best for last.
One more run through the ten contestants, a reminder of the phone numbers, and a shot of the judges — Simon, his head in his hands, looks like I feel — before the wrap, the nervous-smile waves, and the credits roll.
If there's justice in the world and sense on the phones, it's a pretty easy call. Going home this week: Heather Cox (and her breasts), and Brenna Gethers (and her mouth). None of the five of them will be missed.
Posted: Tue - February 28, 2006 at 09:47 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM