I'm Baaaaaaaack: American Idol Top 12 Countdown
Hey, yo! The honeymoon is over (sort of) and I'm back in the saddle! I'll be watching tonight with my dear sweet wife Priscilla, who may or may not contribute snarky witticisms to my already caustic overtures. We do want to thank all of you for your well-wishes, which we eventually read once the steam cleared from the computer screen.
So, a brief recap of what I've missed (or been spared, depending on your perspective) over the past two weeks...
Apparently, things have gone according to the usual Idol pattern. On the girls side, some people with names like Nicole and Amy have fallen by the wayside. Not much different than usual: the extremely hot ones are always the first to go, with the one sort of odd but extremely talented one (Leslie Hunt, in a Stevie Scott moment) being thrown out with the rest of the bathwater. DISCLAIMER: Not that the other girls aren't cute, but they're never quite supermodels either.
On the guy side, some generic males named AJ and Nick are gone. The other Backstreet Boys are still in the competition. I liked Rudy, but he's gone too. Sockless Paul and his crusty underwear are gone too.
Essentially, all the people I never really cared or knew anything about are gone, and all the people that I marginally dislike are still in.
Then, there are my favorites: Gina, Chris, Sundance, and Jordin are still in.
Hint: If you really want to experience the creamy goodness that is Chris Sligh, go to halfpastforever.com and download his album. It's AWESOME! I can't wait for the album that he'll record after this season.
Alrighty then. Time to get this show on the road.
By the way, have you ever noticed how they sell the crap out of House and the teasers are inevitably way more intense than the actual show? I mean, I love the show, right, but there is NEVER as much drama as they show in the teasers! If they show him choking on a chicken bone in the trailer, you can bet that in the show he'll only be munching on a pimento cheese sandwich.
Seacrest points out that there are 8 guys left, and boy howdy, we're a dumb bunch if we can't count that high. Is it just me or are most of the guys uglier than gonorrhea this year? Ryan, on the other hand, is quite dapper. I think he must've had mono all year last year, but whatever it was, he's definitely over it. Time for the guys to enter, and I sort of have some sort of emotions about them, but not much. The girls look on as the guys prepare to make either sweet sweet musical love or heinous musical travesty.
Apparently we get to hear the most important announcement ever on Thursday. Boy, I can't wait. Zzzzzz. Oh, sorry...dozed off for a second there.
Blake Lewis gets all Jimmy Walker Blue on us, because--this just in--he is crazier than an outhouse rat. You Nashville Star fans will know what I mean when I say that he should immediately marry Kristen McNamara. He pulls that beat-box thing on us for the millionth time, yet manages to somehow continue to be endearing. B-Shorty has a smooth and pleasant voice and when he starts with the white-boy reggae, I have to admit, I quite like it. This is nice performance. Now if he didn't look quite so wooden on-stage, I'd be completely sold. I really wouldn't go golfing (or picking up dog crap) in those pants. Priscilla is equally repulsed. Randy likes his current-ness. Paula is drunk as crap already, and she strings together a few random syllables that sort of sound like praise. I can see Simon's reflection in her glassy eyes, and he appears to have enjoyed it too. Personally, I think Blake did 311 proud, and you guys should vote till your fingers fall off for this guy.
Sundance and Sanjaya are on deck, and somebody better go sit next to Sanjaya on his side of the couch, because if Sundance gets one ounce heavier, Sanjaya is bound to go catapulting into the house lights. Is it me, or is Sanjaya looking a lot more like Shyamali these days? Wow, that hula scene isn't going to score him any points with the homophobic population. It's not incredibly appealing to those of us who could care less either. His singing proves that he's almost in the wrong talent competition as well. This is a safe song, and there's no range being displayed tonight. He's flatter than Paula was before the implants, and I'm actually just a bit bored by this song. Simon was speaking about the "karaoke" factor earlier, and folks, this here be it. Someone pluck his eyebrows for him, please? Randy thinks it had no energy, which is about like saying that a black hole is a little dark. Paula struggles to make her vocal chords move, and she can't form one single phrase without pausing for an entire commercial break to collect her thoughts. She really REALLY doesn't know what to say, and she's trying not to be rude, but basically, Sanjaya, this is a "screw you" special delivery from Paula with a rosy red bow on it. Simon jumps all over the hairstyle, and he spills his hater-ade all over Sanjaya. Randy orders Seacrest onto the stage, and there's some goofy joke that I missed and hope that nobody repeats for me. Sorry, Sanjaya, you're a nice guy, but I'm not sold.
Sundance Head claims that he's wearing a fat suit, and that he's really a thin guy in his alter ego life. Har har. I'm laughing on the inside, really. Say cheese, everybody. Now that the stand-up comedy career is shot straight to hell, Sundance is singing, and he's desperately trying to channel the spirit of Eddie Vedder, forgetting that unfortunately Eddie's still among us. Meanwhile, Kurt Cobain's spirit pokes his head in, diddles with Sundance's uvula, and causes whatever unholy mess this is to come out. This is our punishment for paying attention to Courtney Love. I love this song, really I do. "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam was an important song in my childhood. However, this just isn't that song. I love me some Sundance, but this just sucks on ice. I do appreciate that he's stretching out a bit. Randy uses the word "pitchy" and damns Sundance with faint praise over his southern-rock version of Seattle grunge. Paula likes it, too, but Simon is clouding up and preparing to rain all over the parade. Simon correctly says that it's a bad bar-room performance. Simon is once again correct that Sundance just shouted the whole song.
Travis Tritt is in the house, and as country stars go, he's pretty good. He's working with Randy, and expect that name to be dropped about a thousand times this year. Ryan all but blurts out that no country star should be collaborating with a black man, then sort of realizes where he's going with that, realizes he probably shouldn't risk all twelve of his careers at once, and backpedals to some sort of comment about something like hair or whatever.
Chris Richardson was fat in high school. And now, forty pounds lighter, I still have no clue who he is, and what's more, I'm not sure that really bothers me, especially after hearing him miss every single note as he strains to sing. He looks like he's pinching one serious loaf up there. Seriously, dude, you should go before you leave the apartment. I wonder just how hard he's sitting on that stool, because it looks for all the world like it may be penetrating just a bit. I think I know this song, but I remember it sucking a lot less. Man, this is one big mess of bad karaoke bar performances. Somewhere in the cosmos, Keith Urban's empty beer bottle is spinning in its trash can. Randy throws him a roll of Charmin, then tells him he's kind of alright. Paula says something that probably doesn't really matter. The judges aren't incredibly blown away, particularly Simon. I think Randy and Paula have given him just enough praise to get him voted completely off. Seacrest teases Simon a bit, and Simon looks as though he'd rather have his nuts bit off by a Jack Russell terrier than speak to Ryan.
After the break, Jared Cotter will perform some Stevie Wonder... or Stevie Nicks... or Stevie Ray Vaughn. Who knows?
Jared Cotter has a "face mask" move, which is about as sexy as herpes. Jarrod played Division 2 basketball, and--big shock--that wasn't leading to an NBA career. He's wearing an ensemble from the Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood collection. I like his vocals pretty well, and he has an extended staring competition with the camera, after which he grabs the camera and dances around the studio, leaving the stage, wandering the streets of L.A., swimming the English Channel, and eventually making his way back to the studio. All this, and yet he maintains the same exact look on his face without budging. Botox be darned! Still, this is one of the better performances tonight. Randy thinks he gave a solid performance. Paula stutters, and she thinks he should "color up" the way he sings, which is the second time tonight that the show has teetered on the brink of outright racism. Paula, however, couldn't color up her singing with a box of Crayolas and an Earl Scheib crew standing right over her. Simon didn't get the wow factor, as though anybody else had shown it tonight, aside from Blake. Paula, through tear-filled glassy eyes, thinks that Jared should go through to the Top 12. Yup, he does look a little like Corey Clark. Hopefully next week he'll come back with a new attitude and without that horrid sweater.
After the break, who will sing a LeAnn Rimes song? Oh the suspense and drama!! Pardon me, I have to go take my nitroglycerin.
Phil and Brandon, whom I respectively dislike and love, are pontificating about the competition and the judging. Phil thinks that you should take what the judges say with a grain of salt, but that their judgment is all important. Both sides of his mouth immediately revolt and flee to France. Ladies and gentlemen, the Kellie Pickler Award for Things You Should Never Say goes to Phil.
Brandon Rogers shows us how he tinkles the ivories. I've heard his indie stuff, and it rocks. Tonight I'm digging his performance. I like it when a contestant picks an upbeat number, because it's not safe. You can either rock the house or fail mightily with a song such as this. To my way of thinking, Brandon is doing the former. I like him. What can I say? I actually sort of want him to at least place in the Top 5, if not higher, just so I can buy his album. Either that, or I'd like iTunes to list his old stuff again. I don't know who I want to win the whole she-bang just yet, but he's right up there. Randy thinks he messed up a bit in the end. Apparently Randy is watching another show. Paula jabbers about something, but she's praising Brandon, so I like it. Simon doesn't enjoy it one little bit. Simon predicts he'll be voted off, but you have to know that he's saying that to charge up Brandon's fan base. He'll make it. Ryan and Brandon schmooze for a while, and these conversations sort of bore me, but they're important in that they allow the contestants to connect with the audience on a personal level. I just use them to edit in more snark as I go.
Phil Stacy is next, and I remember not really liking him because of the whole "not being there for the birth of the baby" thing. His wife said on her blog that he didn't KNOW she was delivering at the time, but I mean...I don't know. He at least knew she was pregnant! Oh well, it doesn't really matter, because I have a whole new reason to dislike him once he starts singing the LeAnn Rimes song. Excuse me, not "singing," but rather MURDERING. Priscilla is curled up in the fetal position, fingers in ears, screaming "make it stop!" I'm not far behind her. This is a right mess! I would rather shove cacti down my pants than rewind this and listen to it. I would rather die from ringworm than hear him ever again! I would rather kiss Paula than hear this again! I'd rather kiss RANDY. Randy thinks it's alright, and WHAT??? Paula stutters around, wants to say he blows, but babbles something random. Simon calls it insane, and I remember now why I like Simon. I was wondering about Mr. Cowell after his recent Taylor Hicks rant, but now I remember why I usually agree with him. Phil Stacy, that was AWFUL. If any of you out there love me at all, don't vote for him. I wish his hat would just go ahead and swallow him. You know it wants to.
We get to see Carrie Underwood this Thursday. Sweet!
Chris Sligh was bald once, like a certain OTHER Chris. If you listen to Half Past Forever, you know that this Chris has a bit of the Daughtry vibe, even with hair. Awwwww yeah. That's my boy singing, right there. I just love his voice. I've been listening to his CD off and on all day, and I can't get tired of it. With his personality and his voice, I'd vote for him all the way. Choosing a DC Talk song to cover is an interesting move, but he pulls it off rather well. I like it a lot. Randy thinks that it wasn't a great song choice, but he feels that Chris was the best vocalist tonight. I'm torn between him and Blake. Paula is flat out wasted right now, and she just kind of sort of didn't really like it, because quite frankly, she really wants to nail Jared and not Chris. Simon thinks it started off well, ended badly, and then did well enough to get through. I liked it much better, but hey, what do I know, I'm only a music nut and a DJ. Chris and Ryan give each other a man-hug, and it sort of looks like Hagrid from Harry Potter hugging Frodo from Lord of the Rings. And now I look like a sci-fi geek.
Now for the recap of video shot in the dress rehearsal, wherein a lot of guys really suck. I don't know who's going home, but as long as it ain't Brandon, Chris Sligh, Jared, or Blake, I doubt that I will really care. I pick Phil and Chris Richardson to get the boot.