The fabulous Cat Deeley welcomes us back to NYC, only this time we’re in a new “burrah”. We’ll be kickin’ it Brooklyn style and Cat has paid homage to the BK by . . . swaddling herself in an enormous scarf? I don’t know. Kittens, it’s Cat Deeley. We’re lucky she’s not wearing a dress made out of silverfoil held together with some duct tape. Cat blares through her megaphone and we’re off to S5.
Noodles, this show is made of unicorns and rainbows. There were some annoying parts and let’s just deal with those right now, shall we? Nigel is still a perv and a homophobe, but we knew this already. Mary was dressed like a cowgirl and somehow managed to find a wig with dry hair, fly aways, and a bad dye job in order to look more natural, maybe? And the scream was back, but thank all the gods, no hot tamale train. Yet. NappyTab are still mostly pointlessly annoying and I’m sure we’ll be able to count on them to churn out some good choreography every third time they are on this season. And Bow Wow Wow, although still cute as a button and a heck of a choreographer, was the worst judge in history and sadly, now we all know what she sounds like in bed which is more than I ever needed to know about her, kiddies. And Mischa Chan as choreographer for the lucky losers round? And she gets a whole interview segment? Hell to the naw. I want my Travis Wall.
And scene. The rest of the show was phenomenal. Plenty more audition rounds for me to tire of the bad, delusional dancers and hair flippers, but not now. There’s so much that’s right about this show. Let’s just start with the fact that you have to be really, really good to even make it to Vegas. If Idol made all the marginal singers go to a lucky loser’s round where they were forced to learn and perform a new song in order to get passed on, there’d only be about 15 people during Hollywood Week. They wouldn’t even need a seven million week long semi-finals round. Or how about the fact that the judges actually know what they're talking about? Yes, even NappyTab. They are able to give relevant critiques of the dancers’ performances that go beyond, “That was a hot one, dawg.” Or try the fact that the contestants consistently bring it like it should be broughten. And noodles, we have yet to mention the awesomeness of Cat Deeley. So for the foreseeable future, just expect a lot of gushing and appreciating. Weird, right? I know.
Brooklyn Go Hard
Gabi Rojas – Noodles, we all know how I feel about sob stories, no? And yet, I found that I had no resistance to this girl. She may be my sob story kryptonite. She’s as cute as a button and she grew up in the circus. That’s not hyperbole . . . in the circus, the place where all kids dream of running away to. Oh also, she was amazing. Grounded and totally connected to her performance. She has a beautiful, strong center. And such interesting movement. She was utterly captivating. Darlings, tell me that Mary scream was not totally earned. I’m keeping my eye on this one.
Storyboard-P and Hobgoblin – I respect contortionists. I’m sure their craft is very difficult and takes a long time to master. Sadly, it’s not dancing. And, as the great Nina Garcia would say, it’s not aesthetically pleasing. Can I say that it was not great shocker when these two bowed out of the choreography round? Maybe Gabi can give them the number to her mom’s circus? I bet they would kill. Also, here’s a note for black people everywhere. Please get off of Obama’s jock. You’re glad he won. I’m glad he won. He’s a swell kid. You can’t just say the word “change” and suddenly become a transformative figure on the national stage. Michelle and the girls thank you.
Ron and Crazy Kate – Fat, old people do not get on this show. This will be proven over and over again throughout the night.
Peter Sabasino – Love this kid. Love his big old Italian family sitting around the dining room table doing impressions of Nigel and Mary. And he can straight up dance. I am not mad at him at all. I only hope that they judges don’t come to regret taking his word for the fact that he can do all of those different styles of dance that he rattled off, because this show hasn’t had a tapper since S1 maybe and it’s about damn time.
Noodles, we have reached the point in the recap where I have to provide a warning. If you are offended by non-PC language and a general irreverent take on societal sacred cows, then you may want to keep it moving. Because right now we have to deal with Tiffany Geigel and I have some things to say. Forewarned is forearmed.
Tiffany Geigel– Is not a dancer and somebody should have told her so a long time ago. She can like to dance. It can be her pastime passion. She can take as many classes as she likes at the local studio. But this is a show about finding great professional dancers. It’s not a show to validate her personal journey or celebrate her bravery or guilt us into feeling inspired by some no neck midget woman. Where are her people? Who was there that loves her and should’ve been the voice of reason crying out, “No, baby. Do not put your psychic trauma out there in the street like that.” And I can’t even be mad at the producers for using this footage, because wouldn’t you if you had it? And the judges did the thing that I love so much about this show that AI never does (cf. White Stevie Wonder). They judged this girl on her merits. They didn’t lower the bar because of the adversity she’s faced. They honored her by treating her like what she is really not but aspires to be, a dancer. My dearly beloved mom said it best upon viewing the spectacle that was Tiffany Geigel, “She looks like a little spider whirling around up there.” Which is exactly what her mom should’ve told her many moons ago. Sigh. Reality TV ruining America right before our eyes, kiddies. The world is not obligated to celebrate your truth. I’m just trying to see some good dancing.
Maksim Kapitannikov – Well, he was partnered by Faina, a prime purveyor of the stank face, so that was immediate points off. And he looked to be about 45. And he was breaking the Russian Ballroom dancers hotness curve. I want Pasha and Dmitri, not this creature from the gulag. But he was not a horrible dancer. I wasn’t dazzled by him in the choreography round, though, and I fully expect him to flame out in Vegas. Feh.
We then got a montage of good people of which I would love to see the smooth ballroom couple who got put straight through to Vegas and the girl in the green shirt again real soon. All else was kind of a blur.
Nobuya Nagahana – Asian people and hip hop. Two things that you might not imagine go well together, but anyone who’s ever watched ABDC knows that not to be the case. I knew from the moment the camera landed on this fool that he was going to be ridiculous. (We miss you, Dan!) And he was. Old school, Rerun style locking, and he was tearing it up. I was skeptical that he could bring it in the choreo round, but he appears to have done enough to get to Vegas. I’m digging this kid, so I’m looking forward to seeing him do a little ballroom in Sin City.
Arielle Taylor – She’s another cutie and I thought we might really have something but then . . . oh, kittens, but then. Hair flinging and falling out of simple double turns and no center to speak of. Clumsy feet and arms that always wound up just this shy of full extension. I really hate competition dance studios because they take young girls like this who clearly have talent and give them just enough technique to pull off tricks that are too difficult but look spectacular from far away. In the end, you wind up with this girl. Pretty and not a bad dancer, but there’s nothing special about her. Nothing you couldn’t see at any mid-size competition studio anywhere around the country. Maybe she can surprise me, but I highly doubt it. Cute as a button, though.
Thomas Martin and Amanda Clark – I’ma let Mary handle this one. “Novice, beginning bronze level” dancing. Thank you, Mary. Well said.
Igor Zabrodin and Nina Estrina – Nina’s body is sick and Igor is yummy. That’s what I’m talking about, Russian people. And of course, they were fantastic, kittens. They’ve been pimping them in commercials and on every bumper to the break. That said, they were better than fantastic. Sexy, sexy. I would quibble with sending them to do choreography, but since Igor made it through while Nina did not, I’ll hold off.
Kellen Stancil – He’s a gorgeous dancer and I love him. But the umbrella really chapped my ass. Noodles, he didn’t even need it. He has great technique and futzing around with that damn umbrella probably caused the little bobble on one of his very first turns. He would’ve been better off without it. His aunt was probably looking down from heaven shaking her damn head at all the drama. And on the real, kiddies, doesn’t this kid give off waves of drama? With the crying and then the elation after he got through to Vegas. You feel big and tall, do you? I anticipate a diva meltdown in his very near future.
Chimezie Nwosu – Reppin’ for West Orange, NJ. He is adorable. NappyTab had their only relevant critique of the night when they noted how rare it is for hip hop dancers to really utilize the entire stage and how nice it was that he’d done that. He was good. Creative and fun and really just someone that you didn’t want to take your eyes off. And he looked like he made it through choreo pretty much unscathed. We’ll have to see whether he’s a Twitch or a Cedric.
And New York ended in the best possible way with Cat Deeley inviting some lanky dancer to sweat all over her Gucci, Prada and Fendi because that’s what dry cleaners are for. Y’all, I love Cat so, so much. Simon Fuller is lucky in his hosts. Cat and Ryan together could rule the world.
Swingtime in the Rockies
Denver. My old nemesis. I did not have high hopes upon seeing clips of our first contestant. I feared the Arielle style hair flinging. But I was so wrong, noodles. Sometimes people surprise you.
Kayla Radomski – I thought this girl was definitely a hair flinger and I was all prepared to hate. I was decided that I would refuse to be sucked in despite her unbelievably adorable grandpoppa. But oh my stars, kittens. She is so, so serious. Her legs? Heavenly. And the feet. Pointed all the way through the pinky toe. I love good feet on a dancer. She’s like last season’s Kourtni but good. Another one that I will have my eye on.
Mischa and Mitch – So, I have to say that I loved, loved, loved Mitch and Misha and I thought that, until they fell, they were both pretty ferocious. I also just in general hate that Nigel is so homophobic. You are a former dancer and the head judge on a dance show and yet somehow, not comfortable with the gays? That is unpossible. Now, I don't think either of those guys should've gone through to Hollywood because they didn't do all that well in the choreography round. And I wouldn't have had a problem with Nigel critiquing them if his criticism had anything to do with their actual dancing (like Mary's did, for example). Instead, he just kept talking about how he liked masculine dancers, and wanted men to be men and women to be women. And when he told them to go dance with some girls in the choreography round and maybe they might like it? Umm, I don't think so. First of all, one of those dudes said that he was straight, so what was he talking about? And as for the gay guy, ewww. So maybe if Nigel dances with some dudes, he'll catch the gay disease? That's just some nasty ridiculousness right there. I was not amused.
Allison Moist – With a last name like that, it’s no wonder this girl is working with a lot. And she led into a bad dancer montage which culminated in Nigel doing his best Danny Gokey crotch dancing which is just not of the lord and now I don’t know if I can ever forgive her. On the whole, the show was much better about limiting number of bad/delusional contestants, and for that we are all grateful, no?
Elias and Enoch Holloway – I apologize, white people of America, for my presumption that these white boys could not work it out. I assumed. And I should never do that. But seriously, these boys were mighty white. And the youngest of 14? They screamed out Branch Davidian. But I’ll be damned if they didn’t rock the party. Color me impressed. I hope Elias takes the judges advice, trains in other styles of dance, comes back next year and destroys the competition. And the next, next year, Enoch can follow in his footsteps. They will be like the Bizarro World version of Travis and Danny. Wouldn’t that be fun, kittens?
Darlings, I don’t even have any words for the last two contestants of the night. Brandon Bryant and Natalie Reid are practically perfect in every way. The fact that Brandon didn’t make it last year because Nigel and Co. just had to have Big Pasty remains a travesty to this very day. And while I came to enjoy Katee despite the egregious double “e”, Natalie was better than her last year and this year as well. Both of them were transcendent and clearly have enough talent to make Top 20 and maybe even Top 10, although that will depend a lot on who they wind up partnered with. Imagine if they were partnered with each other, kiddies. Sublime!
And that’s how you make a thoroughly satisfying two hours of television. That’ll do, first episode of Season 5. That’ll do.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
American Idol S8 Finales Ep 22 I Know I'll Never Love This Way Again
Kittens, where to even begin? I’m on sensory overload. That was my favorite AI finale of all time. It kicked tremendous amounts of ass. It made me relinquish all hate. I found myself sympathizing with Kara and throwing her a pitying “Oh, baby, no!” when she let the odious Simon Fuller and Cecile Frot Coutaz put her in a bikini and do some horrible sing for your life against Bikini Girl and her Ms. California special boobs. Judge #4 is better than that, y’all. I felt a slight stirring of the love I once had for Danny Gokey as he flaunted his ability to totally geek out and do the nerd groove with Lionel Richie while Paula partied, caramba’d, fiesta forevered in her lingerie. I marveled as Matt Giraud absolutely destroyed every song that he attempted and rocked the bucket hat better than one Mr. Jason Mraz. I embraced Lil Rounds and her fierce look during that Queen Latifah number. I would wear every single thing that she had on. And that ass? Still out of control. Girl was looking fly as hell. And Scott McIntyre had some moves, y’all. He totally kept up in that dance number to Do You Think I’m Sexy? How great was this finale? Tattoo Sleeve actually sounded not half bad on her duet with He Man Oilman on that Steve Martin joint. Season 8 was magic, y’all. Definitely my favorite season since S3.
And that was just the bad shit, noodles. The good shit was out of this world amazing. I can’t even . . . I just can’t. What did I love most? Anoop and Alexis rescuing I’m Yours from that early season massacre of a group sing during semi-finals. And then being joined by Mraz himself, and he was in fine voice darlings! Love. The girls group singing on the only Fergie song that I can abide, Glamorous. (What can I say, kiddies? It's my kryptonite. Maybe because it was on GG?) And then BEP coming out and being for the most part pretty great. That includes Fergie, even though she looks like she’s a wax figurine, rocking a one piece romper and Sasha Fierce glove. (Tattoo Sleeve was also rocking the romper and side fashion note to designers world wide. Stop trying to make theromper happen. It’s not going to happen)
Or what about the single greatest thing to happen on that Idol stage not involving Adam or Kris? Manic Panic. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper and Time After Time. Kittens, I was undone. There are no words for how much I loved that performance. That little chola can sing her face off. She hung in there with Cyndi Lauper, who is a pop goddess and all around cool being. Not only was it one of the best performances of the night, I think it might be one of the top Idol performances ever. I want them to record that tonight so that I can buy it tomorrow and play it every day for the rest of my life.
Kittens, forget about the bullshit Golden Idols. Forget about Carlos Santana, guitar player extraordinaire and purveyor of really high priced stripper heels. Forget about giving over precious, precious time with the AI-lettes so that Rod Stewart could croak out Maggie May again. None of that even mattered, no? Because from the moment they walked out in their blinding white angel gear, Kris and Adam owned this night.
Kris is already a bigger star with more charisma than Mr. Nicole Kidman and he sounded insanely great on that country rock ditty. This is why he won, kiddies. Trust that this fool will sell millions and millions of records. Oh, and yep. Still hotter than the sun. And right here was where I reconfirmed that I would be good with him winning. I was good. Kris has got that special thing, too. It’s not at all like Adam in any way, but it is so much more appropriate for this show than our little glitter baby. You could not have genetically engineered a more perfect AI winner. Kris Allen is AI and AI is him. Peace. I was content. I even gave it up to the honey dip. I truly believed that he was the better winner for this season. Do your thing, sexy. You got it.
But then Adam Lambert. Oh my stars and garters! Darlings, I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. The costume and the platforms and the sparkly, glitter eyeliner. KISS on the AI stage with fireworks and flames and smashing guitars. And y’all, I had to take it all back. How could you, America? How could you not recognize the genius that is this kid? Now look, I love the honey dip, but he’s chicken liver to Adam’s foie gras. Damn, just damn.
And then the end came around and the two of them just slayed me. Slayed me. Kris + Adam + Brian May and the boys from Queen + We Are the Champions = Automatic Win. Made of Win. And that’s when I had to finally come to a point of acceptance. Kris is the winner and I’m OK with that, but it ain’t right. Go back and watch that performance again. Watch Adam completely blow Kris off the stage. Watch him fully inhabit Freddie’s impossibly big shoes and make that song, and us by extension, his bitch. Watch Brian May fall in love with this kid. Watch and tell me that he’s not better than Kris. Kris is awesome. I would like to take him somewhere and do bad things to him for which there exists no coupon. But this is talent we’re talking here and Kris himself said it best. Should’ve been Adam. Dammit, America. Can’t trust you bitches with anything.
That’s OK. I’m going to file that We Are the Champions performance away right next to Danny’s SYTYCD solo under the heading of “Perfect Things”. Whenever I am feeling down, or even just a little bit blue, I will watch those two things in my head on a continuous loop with the first Mad Love, and Allison’s sing out and her performance tonight with Cyndi Lauper and Blake’s Body Language and Mia’s group dance featuring Mark from last season’s SYTYCD and ‘Tasia’s I Believe. I will watch these things and remind myself that while reality TV often breaks my heart, it just as often brings great joy to my life and provides me with moments of true beauty, which is more than I can say for most scripted TV.
I can’t write anymore, kittens. I’m spent and I have to save my strength because tomorrow comes two hours of SYTYCD and the return of Cat Deeley. What? I may have a post to sum up my Season 8 AI journey at some future time. Season 8 was a conundrum. So much to hate, but the kids made me love it through the sheer force of their fantasticness. I will listen to that horrid coronation song because Kris made it real tonight and I loved it because I love him. Verily, I will not only listen, but also sing along as I'm bopping down the freeway groovin' to Ryan's show on KIIS FM. I will eagerly await Adam's debut album while I speculate on they myriad ways he is going to freak me the fuck out. Everything else is a distraction.
Season 8 was soooo gooooooooodddd, kittens. And who ever thought it would be back during the dog days round about the Jacksonville auditions? Drink it in.
And that was just the bad shit, noodles. The good shit was out of this world amazing. I can’t even . . . I just can’t. What did I love most? Anoop and Alexis rescuing I’m Yours from that early season massacre of a group sing during semi-finals. And then being joined by Mraz himself, and he was in fine voice darlings! Love. The girls group singing on the only Fergie song that I can abide, Glamorous. (What can I say, kiddies? It's my kryptonite. Maybe because it was on GG?) And then BEP coming out and being for the most part pretty great. That includes Fergie, even though she looks like she’s a wax figurine, rocking a one piece romper and Sasha Fierce glove. (Tattoo Sleeve was also rocking the romper and side fashion note to designers world wide. Stop trying to make theromper happen. It’s not going to happen)
Or what about the single greatest thing to happen on that Idol stage not involving Adam or Kris? Manic Panic. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper. Manic Panic and Cyndi Lauper and Time After Time. Kittens, I was undone. There are no words for how much I loved that performance. That little chola can sing her face off. She hung in there with Cyndi Lauper, who is a pop goddess and all around cool being. Not only was it one of the best performances of the night, I think it might be one of the top Idol performances ever. I want them to record that tonight so that I can buy it tomorrow and play it every day for the rest of my life.
Kittens, forget about the bullshit Golden Idols. Forget about Carlos Santana, guitar player extraordinaire and purveyor of really high priced stripper heels. Forget about giving over precious, precious time with the AI-lettes so that Rod Stewart could croak out Maggie May again. None of that even mattered, no? Because from the moment they walked out in their blinding white angel gear, Kris and Adam owned this night.
Kris is already a bigger star with more charisma than Mr. Nicole Kidman and he sounded insanely great on that country rock ditty. This is why he won, kiddies. Trust that this fool will sell millions and millions of records. Oh, and yep. Still hotter than the sun. And right here was where I reconfirmed that I would be good with him winning. I was good. Kris has got that special thing, too. It’s not at all like Adam in any way, but it is so much more appropriate for this show than our little glitter baby. You could not have genetically engineered a more perfect AI winner. Kris Allen is AI and AI is him. Peace. I was content. I even gave it up to the honey dip. I truly believed that he was the better winner for this season. Do your thing, sexy. You got it.
But then Adam Lambert. Oh my stars and garters! Darlings, I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. The costume and the platforms and the sparkly, glitter eyeliner. KISS on the AI stage with fireworks and flames and smashing guitars. And y’all, I had to take it all back. How could you, America? How could you not recognize the genius that is this kid? Now look, I love the honey dip, but he’s chicken liver to Adam’s foie gras. Damn, just damn.
And then the end came around and the two of them just slayed me. Slayed me. Kris + Adam + Brian May and the boys from Queen + We Are the Champions = Automatic Win. Made of Win. And that’s when I had to finally come to a point of acceptance. Kris is the winner and I’m OK with that, but it ain’t right. Go back and watch that performance again. Watch Adam completely blow Kris off the stage. Watch him fully inhabit Freddie’s impossibly big shoes and make that song, and us by extension, his bitch. Watch Brian May fall in love with this kid. Watch and tell me that he’s not better than Kris. Kris is awesome. I would like to take him somewhere and do bad things to him for which there exists no coupon. But this is talent we’re talking here and Kris himself said it best. Should’ve been Adam. Dammit, America. Can’t trust you bitches with anything.
That’s OK. I’m going to file that We Are the Champions performance away right next to Danny’s SYTYCD solo under the heading of “Perfect Things”. Whenever I am feeling down, or even just a little bit blue, I will watch those two things in my head on a continuous loop with the first Mad Love, and Allison’s sing out and her performance tonight with Cyndi Lauper and Blake’s Body Language and Mia’s group dance featuring Mark from last season’s SYTYCD and ‘Tasia’s I Believe. I will watch these things and remind myself that while reality TV often breaks my heart, it just as often brings great joy to my life and provides me with moments of true beauty, which is more than I can say for most scripted TV.
I can’t write anymore, kittens. I’m spent and I have to save my strength because tomorrow comes two hours of SYTYCD and the return of Cat Deeley. What? I may have a post to sum up my Season 8 AI journey at some future time. Season 8 was a conundrum. So much to hate, but the kids made me love it through the sheer force of their fantasticness. I will listen to that horrid coronation song because Kris made it real tonight and I loved it because I love him. Verily, I will not only listen, but also sing along as I'm bopping down the freeway groovin' to Ryan's show on KIIS FM. I will eagerly await Adam's debut album while I speculate on they myriad ways he is going to freak me the fuck out. Everything else is a distraction.
Season 8 was soooo gooooooooodddd, kittens. And who ever thought it would be back during the dog days round about the Jacksonville auditions? Drink it in.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
American Idol S8 Finals Ep21 After You Get What You Want, You Don't Want What You Wanted At All
Noodles, I have just seen the most perfect hour of TV ever.
Glee has plenty of time and opportunity to lose me . . . plenty of time for the sassy, fat black girl with the big voice to become a Mo’nique cliché; plenty of time for the redhead, neat freak teacher and our intrepid Glee Club moderator to sink into every bad will they or won’t they dynamic known to sitcom-dom and drag mini-Idina Menzel and the jock hunk down with them; plenty of time to keep stuttering Asian girl, roller boy, butch female gym teacher and cheap ass Indian principal firmly in the realm of caricature. But for now, Glee was a slice of perfection and it’s own unique snowflake and I loved it more than I can ever articulate and if I believed in this magical thing called TiVo, I would be rewinding that Rehab number right now so that I could master that dance. Pure love.
Oh, also, Kris Allen totally just won AI.
Kittens, I love Adam more than my luggage. And tonight, for me, for AI, the alien boy/girl glittery sex god was on fire. He even made me swallow that hideous coronation song. (And can we deal with the song? I mean, Judge #4 couldn’t even do a better job than Tamyra Gray. Something is very, very wrong with that) The voice was pristine all night long. Flawless pitch, amazing range, power and tenderness. Adam did just about everything that I wanted tonight vocally and overcame song choices that I think were not designed to show him off to his best advantage (except Mad World which is one of the rare, undeniably perfect things in this world). And he did it all in full make up: base, eye shadow, more liner and mascara than an army of Covergirls, blush and orange shimmery lip gloss. Toma! I mean clearly, he was better than Kris tonight, despite the fact that the beautiful one remained sexy as all get out. And yet, darlings, I have almost no doubt that our lovely and talented honey dip will pull the upset tomorrow and waltz away with the AI crown and rights to record that suck-tastic song as his first single. Why? Americans love spunk (Lou Grant notwithstanding). Kris Allen refused to go gentle into that good night. He brought it on Ain’t No Sunshine, though again, not the song I would have had him repeat. (Falling Slowly? Hello?) He tried to do his Mraz-y thing on Marvin which was not, in my humble opinion, entirely successful. But he was in good voice on that second song. And he totally fell apart, off pitch and screechy on the last song, but dammit he fought the good fight. And he will be rewarded accordingly because, as I may have mentioned, kiddies, we are not a merit based society. Believe that. But let’s take it from the top, no, because whoever wins tomorrow night, the AI-lettes have given incredibly good season.
Flashback, Warm Nights
I loved the opening flashback to Kris and Adam in the season’s infancy. I mean, Mr. Wicked was back with all the flair there, but needing a case of exfoliating facial scrub and a good haircut. And there was Kris who, rocking that tired denim cap, made it abundantly apparent why they did not feature him all that much in early audition rounds. Did he think he was auditioning to be in Our Gang? They were so cute, y’all. Can it be that it was all so simple then?
And then out came the world’s favorite wee closet gay. And kittens, Ryan has killed it all season long. Let’s just give it up for the dominant sexy that he brought to Season 8. In a season of overwhelming contestant pretty, Ryan showed and proved week in and week out. Strangé, sir. Strangé. As for the other judges, I see that Randy has gone completely color blind, Paula, having soundly defeated the Breast Liberation Front at least for the night, looked surprisingly normal, and Simon wore a sports coat for the special occasion as per usual. The trannys in hair and make up used all of Lil’s left over weave on Judge #4. May she choke on it.
And then, there were the two who are the two. Hello, salty goodness! Those boys are beautiful. It was almost too much, no, kittens? And on top of that, they tried to kill us with adorable baby pictures, adorably clueless families. Even the monkey faced wife was doing her level best. Prettiest F2 ever!
Make It Like It Was
Adam Lambert/Mad World (Repeat Song) – This was an excellent choice to repeat. And Adam didn’t disappoint, pulling out the black trench, the fog machine, the drama lighting and just being totally over the top and theatrical. I thought it totally worked and, as Paula pointed out, served to differentiate this performance from the first Mad World which was so intimate and broken. It was a smart play and took me all the way back to the SF auditions when I tagged this kid as Mr. Wicked. It may not play in the hinterlands, but I loved it a really lot, noodles. Score one for the kid in the pancake make up.
Kris Allen/Ain’t No Sunshine (Repeat Song) – It was right here where I first got the inkling that this fool could pull this off. Unlike Adam, I don’t think this was the best song Kris could’ve chosen to repeat. As I said the first time he sang it, his voice really is a little too light for this. You need a voice with more grit and more heft. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but Goat Boy has the kind of gristle that would really make this song sing. That said, Kris is perhaps the best contestant that’s ever trod the Idol stage at knowing how to work within himself. He knows his instrument, knows what he’s got, knows his strengths and consistently plays to them. And this performance was totally on point. He did much better with this song tonight than he did the first time he sang it, and the first time wasn’t bad. And I’ll be damned if he wasn’t sexy as fuck. Let’s have a hotter than the sun for the road, kittens. Because really? Hotter than the sun.
I refuse with the round by round ridiculousness because this is not a boxing match, but I will say that Adam and Kris came out of this first song very, very even.
Doing Nothing for the Fun of It
Adam Lambert/A Change Is Gon’ Come (Producer’s Pick) – Darlings, is Clive Davis dead? Why did we get Simon Fuller picking? I wouldn’t trust Simon Fuller and Cecile Frot Coutaz to pick grapes in the San Joaquin Valley, so why would I trust them to pick songs for the finale? Yuck. Protest songs? Really? Bring back the penguin song. So anyway, Adam lucked out by getting the far superior song for him in this Sam Cooke classic. And noodles, do I have to tell you how much I love Adam in a suit? Our little glitter bomb turned it out on this tune. He did the soft open and the scream-y end, and if you don’t like that then you don’t like the magic that is Adam Lambert because your heart is a blackened lump of coal and you might be dead inside. But, you know, to each her own. I thought it was flawless. Was it Sam Cooke? Obviously not. Was it magnificent? Need you even ask?
If you’ll notice, kiddies, I’m not even bothering to recap the judges. They were mostly useless. If you want to know what they said, seek help. Moving on.
Kris Allen/What’s Goin' On? (Producer’s Pick) – Much less successful song choice for the honey dip. Don’t get me wrong, noodles. I love Marvin and I love this song. But Kris doing his folk/rock thing on this joint just did not quite work. It was fine. He sang it well from a technical standpoint. But just after saying that I wouldn’t recap the judges, I have to go back on that because Simon gave his one good critique of the night here by noting that this performance was kind of like sitting around that cute guy’s dorm room in college and somebody pulls out his guitar and somebody pulls out some bongos and all of a sudden, you got yourself a hootenanny. WTF with the hootenannies, white people? You can’t hootenanny Marvin. I’m just pointing that out. Therefore, this performance, while technically fine, was not successful.
Adam did better here on the producer’s pick song, but Kris held his own.
Coronation Song – No Boundaries
I hate Judge #4. She ruins everything.
Both of the kids sounded like country fried ass. Adam oversang and actually sounded off pitch at the beginning of the song. (And why were the back up singers so loud AGAIN? Dammit, production monkeys!) Kris was off pitch the entire song, and at the beginning was off pitch in the exact same way as Adam which made me think that the fucking song is just weird and discordant in the first verse and anyone would sound off singing it. Sadly, Kris never actually recovered and was off the whole time. He also exposed how thin his voice really is by trying to live up to the ridiculous bombast of the song rather than stripping it down and Kris-ifying it. Who knows if he would’ve even been allowed to do that, but that’s the only way I think he could’ve survived that song. As it was, Adam was able to come out of his performance less scathed because he can take it to that over the top, bombastic place. On the real, I hated both of those performances, but among the wreckage, Adam’s version of the song was better. That said, I think that Kris could make a better record with that hot mess because he could, in fact, strip it down and make it less Meatloaf, whereas Adam’s version will be completely over the top just with the first verse pitch issues cleared up.
Overall, suck ass way to end the night. And Judge #4 thanking Adam for giving her the gift of singing her song? Damn, bitch. You have made it through the entire season and yet spectacularly failed to realize that the show is not about you. Why is this a hard concept to grasp? I honestly don’t have the strength, y’all.
I Had to Run Away High So I Wouldn't Come Home Low
I was under whelmed, kittens. The uninspired song choices and the lack of a villain to hate on and one of the worst coronation songs of any season. Bleagh. And then we closed with Carrie, an Idol winner who I’ve honestly grown to love, giving us her lame take on an amazing Cruë song. (Fashion side note: The boots were fabulous. Work, Bobble Head!)
Maybe I built it up too much, darlings. My expectations for this finale were so high with the level of talent and overall hotness of Kris/Adam that nothing could’ve satisfied. Tomorrow we get an equal mix of bitter (Frikkin’ Gokey and White Stevie Wonder and Goat Boy and Lil’s stank face and Tattoo Sleeve) and sweet (Manic Panic and Anoop and He Man Oilman and Alexis “Gone too soon” Grace). I’m tired and oddly deflated. See y’all on the flip side. I think I’ma go to Fox.com to watch Glee again and get happy. Who’s with me?
Glee has plenty of time and opportunity to lose me . . . plenty of time for the sassy, fat black girl with the big voice to become a Mo’nique cliché; plenty of time for the redhead, neat freak teacher and our intrepid Glee Club moderator to sink into every bad will they or won’t they dynamic known to sitcom-dom and drag mini-Idina Menzel and the jock hunk down with them; plenty of time to keep stuttering Asian girl, roller boy, butch female gym teacher and cheap ass Indian principal firmly in the realm of caricature. But for now, Glee was a slice of perfection and it’s own unique snowflake and I loved it more than I can ever articulate and if I believed in this magical thing called TiVo, I would be rewinding that Rehab number right now so that I could master that dance. Pure love.
Oh, also, Kris Allen totally just won AI.
Kittens, I love Adam more than my luggage. And tonight, for me, for AI, the alien boy/girl glittery sex god was on fire. He even made me swallow that hideous coronation song. (And can we deal with the song? I mean, Judge #4 couldn’t even do a better job than Tamyra Gray. Something is very, very wrong with that) The voice was pristine all night long. Flawless pitch, amazing range, power and tenderness. Adam did just about everything that I wanted tonight vocally and overcame song choices that I think were not designed to show him off to his best advantage (except Mad World which is one of the rare, undeniably perfect things in this world). And he did it all in full make up: base, eye shadow, more liner and mascara than an army of Covergirls, blush and orange shimmery lip gloss. Toma! I mean clearly, he was better than Kris tonight, despite the fact that the beautiful one remained sexy as all get out. And yet, darlings, I have almost no doubt that our lovely and talented honey dip will pull the upset tomorrow and waltz away with the AI crown and rights to record that suck-tastic song as his first single. Why? Americans love spunk (Lou Grant notwithstanding). Kris Allen refused to go gentle into that good night. He brought it on Ain’t No Sunshine, though again, not the song I would have had him repeat. (Falling Slowly? Hello?) He tried to do his Mraz-y thing on Marvin which was not, in my humble opinion, entirely successful. But he was in good voice on that second song. And he totally fell apart, off pitch and screechy on the last song, but dammit he fought the good fight. And he will be rewarded accordingly because, as I may have mentioned, kiddies, we are not a merit based society. Believe that. But let’s take it from the top, no, because whoever wins tomorrow night, the AI-lettes have given incredibly good season.
Flashback, Warm Nights
I loved the opening flashback to Kris and Adam in the season’s infancy. I mean, Mr. Wicked was back with all the flair there, but needing a case of exfoliating facial scrub and a good haircut. And there was Kris who, rocking that tired denim cap, made it abundantly apparent why they did not feature him all that much in early audition rounds. Did he think he was auditioning to be in Our Gang? They were so cute, y’all. Can it be that it was all so simple then?
And then out came the world’s favorite wee closet gay. And kittens, Ryan has killed it all season long. Let’s just give it up for the dominant sexy that he brought to Season 8. In a season of overwhelming contestant pretty, Ryan showed and proved week in and week out. Strangé, sir. Strangé. As for the other judges, I see that Randy has gone completely color blind, Paula, having soundly defeated the Breast Liberation Front at least for the night, looked surprisingly normal, and Simon wore a sports coat for the special occasion as per usual. The trannys in hair and make up used all of Lil’s left over weave on Judge #4. May she choke on it.
And then, there were the two who are the two. Hello, salty goodness! Those boys are beautiful. It was almost too much, no, kittens? And on top of that, they tried to kill us with adorable baby pictures, adorably clueless families. Even the monkey faced wife was doing her level best. Prettiest F2 ever!
Make It Like It Was
Adam Lambert/Mad World (Repeat Song) – This was an excellent choice to repeat. And Adam didn’t disappoint, pulling out the black trench, the fog machine, the drama lighting and just being totally over the top and theatrical. I thought it totally worked and, as Paula pointed out, served to differentiate this performance from the first Mad World which was so intimate and broken. It was a smart play and took me all the way back to the SF auditions when I tagged this kid as Mr. Wicked. It may not play in the hinterlands, but I loved it a really lot, noodles. Score one for the kid in the pancake make up.
Kris Allen/Ain’t No Sunshine (Repeat Song) – It was right here where I first got the inkling that this fool could pull this off. Unlike Adam, I don’t think this was the best song Kris could’ve chosen to repeat. As I said the first time he sang it, his voice really is a little too light for this. You need a voice with more grit and more heft. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but Goat Boy has the kind of gristle that would really make this song sing. That said, Kris is perhaps the best contestant that’s ever trod the Idol stage at knowing how to work within himself. He knows his instrument, knows what he’s got, knows his strengths and consistently plays to them. And this performance was totally on point. He did much better with this song tonight than he did the first time he sang it, and the first time wasn’t bad. And I’ll be damned if he wasn’t sexy as fuck. Let’s have a hotter than the sun for the road, kittens. Because really? Hotter than the sun.
I refuse with the round by round ridiculousness because this is not a boxing match, but I will say that Adam and Kris came out of this first song very, very even.
Doing Nothing for the Fun of It
Adam Lambert/A Change Is Gon’ Come (Producer’s Pick) – Darlings, is Clive Davis dead? Why did we get Simon Fuller picking? I wouldn’t trust Simon Fuller and Cecile Frot Coutaz to pick grapes in the San Joaquin Valley, so why would I trust them to pick songs for the finale? Yuck. Protest songs? Really? Bring back the penguin song. So anyway, Adam lucked out by getting the far superior song for him in this Sam Cooke classic. And noodles, do I have to tell you how much I love Adam in a suit? Our little glitter bomb turned it out on this tune. He did the soft open and the scream-y end, and if you don’t like that then you don’t like the magic that is Adam Lambert because your heart is a blackened lump of coal and you might be dead inside. But, you know, to each her own. I thought it was flawless. Was it Sam Cooke? Obviously not. Was it magnificent? Need you even ask?
If you’ll notice, kiddies, I’m not even bothering to recap the judges. They were mostly useless. If you want to know what they said, seek help. Moving on.
Kris Allen/What’s Goin' On? (Producer’s Pick) – Much less successful song choice for the honey dip. Don’t get me wrong, noodles. I love Marvin and I love this song. But Kris doing his folk/rock thing on this joint just did not quite work. It was fine. He sang it well from a technical standpoint. But just after saying that I wouldn’t recap the judges, I have to go back on that because Simon gave his one good critique of the night here by noting that this performance was kind of like sitting around that cute guy’s dorm room in college and somebody pulls out his guitar and somebody pulls out some bongos and all of a sudden, you got yourself a hootenanny. WTF with the hootenannies, white people? You can’t hootenanny Marvin. I’m just pointing that out. Therefore, this performance, while technically fine, was not successful.
Adam did better here on the producer’s pick song, but Kris held his own.
Coronation Song – No Boundaries
I hate Judge #4. She ruins everything.
Both of the kids sounded like country fried ass. Adam oversang and actually sounded off pitch at the beginning of the song. (And why were the back up singers so loud AGAIN? Dammit, production monkeys!) Kris was off pitch the entire song, and at the beginning was off pitch in the exact same way as Adam which made me think that the fucking song is just weird and discordant in the first verse and anyone would sound off singing it. Sadly, Kris never actually recovered and was off the whole time. He also exposed how thin his voice really is by trying to live up to the ridiculous bombast of the song rather than stripping it down and Kris-ifying it. Who knows if he would’ve even been allowed to do that, but that’s the only way I think he could’ve survived that song. As it was, Adam was able to come out of his performance less scathed because he can take it to that over the top, bombastic place. On the real, I hated both of those performances, but among the wreckage, Adam’s version of the song was better. That said, I think that Kris could make a better record with that hot mess because he could, in fact, strip it down and make it less Meatloaf, whereas Adam’s version will be completely over the top just with the first verse pitch issues cleared up.
Overall, suck ass way to end the night. And Judge #4 thanking Adam for giving her the gift of singing her song? Damn, bitch. You have made it through the entire season and yet spectacularly failed to realize that the show is not about you. Why is this a hard concept to grasp? I honestly don’t have the strength, y’all.
I Had to Run Away High So I Wouldn't Come Home Low
I was under whelmed, kittens. The uninspired song choices and the lack of a villain to hate on and one of the worst coronation songs of any season. Bleagh. And then we closed with Carrie, an Idol winner who I’ve honestly grown to love, giving us her lame take on an amazing Cruë song. (Fashion side note: The boots were fabulous. Work, Bobble Head!)
Maybe I built it up too much, darlings. My expectations for this finale were so high with the level of talent and overall hotness of Kris/Adam that nothing could’ve satisfied. Tomorrow we get an equal mix of bitter (Frikkin’ Gokey and White Stevie Wonder and Goat Boy and Lil’s stank face and Tattoo Sleeve) and sweet (Manic Panic and Anoop and He Man Oilman and Alexis “Gone too soon” Grace). I’m tired and oddly deflated. See y’all on the flip side. I think I’ma go to Fox.com to watch Glee again and get happy. Who’s with me?
Thursday, May 14, 2009
American Idol S8 Finals Ep20 Free at Last
I come not to bury Gokey, but to praise him.
I’m serious. Every great story needs a villain, and Frikkin’ Gokey played the role so nicely. Talented, attractive (because I’ll be damned if he wasn’t hotter than he’s ever been last night), with a plethora of gifts that he chose to use for evil rather than for good. I have truly loved hating on Gokey this year. And the bitch knows how to make a well-timed exit, stage left. So hail and well met, FG. You proved a worthy foil this season. I hope I never have to see you or your heart hands ever again. Oh and, shame about the wife.
Kittens, I’m in a magnanimous mood. I got the finale of my dreams. Adam/Kris. Kris/Adam. Not matter who wins, it’s gonna be a whole lotta sexy up on that Kodak Theater stage, so I’m all good. (But on the real, Adam better win. Carrying on)
I'm so good, in fact, that I can get over the fact that 90% of last night’s show was absolute crap. Because seriously, y’all, what was that crap? Ben Stiller, who desperately needs to get off AI’s jock, and some fat dudes I didn’t even know hawking the second installment of a movie about the fascinating secret life of security guards. (And WTF with security guards being the flavor of the month movie stars? What kind of person watched Paul Blart: Mall Cop? The same kind of people who were Gokey fans, I'd wager. And that's what's wrong with America) Alicia Keys, looking gorgeous, but trailing some sad African kid who thinks he’s MC Hammer behind her. I am sure that kid is the hotness in the Sudan and the Ivory Coast, but really? Umm, no. Jordin Sparks, who needs to get smacked up repeatedly by that pimp from Pat Benatar’s Love Is a Battlefield video for the sheer presumption of trying to do it like the master. (Although, props to her for not letting the undead husk of Clive Davis turn her into a bobble head like Carrie. She looked phenomenal) Katy Perry? Not even her love for Adam Lambert could make me talk about the hot mess on that stage. I refuse.
But enough about the 90% crap, noodles, because the other 10% I loved with a white hot intensity. Ryan was a blazing, Kris Allen level of beautiful. The pimpmercial was the most non-sensical yet and I think they were implying that Adam’s superpower in the A-Ha cartoon portion was making a mean steak and eggs which was awesome in its randomness. Anoop was there looking ridiculous in a Dodgers jersey and yet still somehow being the sexiest south Asian geek I have ever laid eyes on. Manic Panic is still the cutest chola in the history of ever and she loooooves Adam, as she should. Kris’ big old red faced dad crying buckets of tears while Kris sang Falling Slowly made me tear up. And his whole family, excepting the monkey faced wife, is beautiful. And of course, Kris himself, in that black leather jacket/white t-shirt combo? Hotter than the sun. And as touching as Kris’ hometown visit was, I still loved Adam’s best. He taught morning show hosts how to put on eye shadow! He inspired old men to become autograph seeking hags! He turned a saggy breasted San Diego teen into a streaker because he is sex on a stick. I think Obama might end DADT just due to the sheer rightness of Adam Lambert on a Marine base singing the hell out of the National Anthem. And the kids? Oh, Adam with the kids was too much. And he looked good doing it. Kittens, he is magic.
And of course the best thing ever happened, no? Frikkin’ Gokey went home. No more dead wife. No more pierced face friend. No more scary crotch dancing. No more cater waiter vests. No more Lenscrafter. No more fucking heart hands. For the first time since S2 someone who I genuinely love and have been rooting for will win American Idol. Not someone I hate (like Fivehead or Taylor), not someone I don’t really care about (like Jordin), not someone I’m “meh” about but I can live with (like Ruben), not someone who I’m OK with but that I can grow to love (like Carrie). No, noodles. Someone will win this show who I passionately and dearly love. Like Miss Kelly Clarkson and 'Tasia levels of adoration and worship. Either Adam or Kris will be like that for me. Which means that also for the first time someone will come second who my heart will break for. And that’s why I watch this show, no?
Darlings, for that, I’ll take all the crap that this show has shoveled this season. I’ll take the “innovations” , like the judges’ save, that add absolutely no value to this show. I’ll take the almost complete destruction of Simon’s autonomy and integrity. I’ll take the emergence of “nasty Paula”. For the glory that will be the Adam/Kris finale, kiddies, I will even take Judge #4. Yes, that’s right. My love for our glittery boy/girl alien sex god and our sweet ‘n sexy honey dip from AR is so great that it completely overshadows the nasty piece of business that is Kara DioworsethanIeverthoughtshe’dbe. I still hope and pray that Simon Fuller and Cecile Frout Coutaz will come to their senses and drop that fool like a bad habit over the summer (Along with most of the other "innovations"), but for now, I’m basking in the warm, warm glow.
Next stop Kodak Theater, y'all. Remember when Prince and Mary J came to the finale and made the Hoff cry? Imagine if they all came back and Kris and Adam were added to the mix. Sweet fancy Moses! I can. not. wait.
I’m serious. Every great story needs a villain, and Frikkin’ Gokey played the role so nicely. Talented, attractive (because I’ll be damned if he wasn’t hotter than he’s ever been last night), with a plethora of gifts that he chose to use for evil rather than for good. I have truly loved hating on Gokey this year. And the bitch knows how to make a well-timed exit, stage left. So hail and well met, FG. You proved a worthy foil this season. I hope I never have to see you or your heart hands ever again. Oh and, shame about the wife.
Kittens, I’m in a magnanimous mood. I got the finale of my dreams. Adam/Kris. Kris/Adam. Not matter who wins, it’s gonna be a whole lotta sexy up on that Kodak Theater stage, so I’m all good. (But on the real, Adam better win. Carrying on)
I'm so good, in fact, that I can get over the fact that 90% of last night’s show was absolute crap. Because seriously, y’all, what was that crap? Ben Stiller, who desperately needs to get off AI’s jock, and some fat dudes I didn’t even know hawking the second installment of a movie about the fascinating secret life of security guards. (And WTF with security guards being the flavor of the month movie stars? What kind of person watched Paul Blart: Mall Cop? The same kind of people who were Gokey fans, I'd wager. And that's what's wrong with America) Alicia Keys, looking gorgeous, but trailing some sad African kid who thinks he’s MC Hammer behind her. I am sure that kid is the hotness in the Sudan and the Ivory Coast, but really? Umm, no. Jordin Sparks, who needs to get smacked up repeatedly by that pimp from Pat Benatar’s Love Is a Battlefield video for the sheer presumption of trying to do it like the master. (Although, props to her for not letting the undead husk of Clive Davis turn her into a bobble head like Carrie. She looked phenomenal) Katy Perry? Not even her love for Adam Lambert could make me talk about the hot mess on that stage. I refuse.
But enough about the 90% crap, noodles, because the other 10% I loved with a white hot intensity. Ryan was a blazing, Kris Allen level of beautiful. The pimpmercial was the most non-sensical yet and I think they were implying that Adam’s superpower in the A-Ha cartoon portion was making a mean steak and eggs which was awesome in its randomness. Anoop was there looking ridiculous in a Dodgers jersey and yet still somehow being the sexiest south Asian geek I have ever laid eyes on. Manic Panic is still the cutest chola in the history of ever and she loooooves Adam, as she should. Kris’ big old red faced dad crying buckets of tears while Kris sang Falling Slowly made me tear up. And his whole family, excepting the monkey faced wife, is beautiful. And of course, Kris himself, in that black leather jacket/white t-shirt combo? Hotter than the sun. And as touching as Kris’ hometown visit was, I still loved Adam’s best. He taught morning show hosts how to put on eye shadow! He inspired old men to become autograph seeking hags! He turned a saggy breasted San Diego teen into a streaker because he is sex on a stick. I think Obama might end DADT just due to the sheer rightness of Adam Lambert on a Marine base singing the hell out of the National Anthem. And the kids? Oh, Adam with the kids was too much. And he looked good doing it. Kittens, he is magic.
And of course the best thing ever happened, no? Frikkin’ Gokey went home. No more dead wife. No more pierced face friend. No more scary crotch dancing. No more cater waiter vests. No more Lenscrafter. No more fucking heart hands. For the first time since S2 someone who I genuinely love and have been rooting for will win American Idol. Not someone I hate (like Fivehead or Taylor), not someone I don’t really care about (like Jordin), not someone I’m “meh” about but I can live with (like Ruben), not someone who I’m OK with but that I can grow to love (like Carrie). No, noodles. Someone will win this show who I passionately and dearly love. Like Miss Kelly Clarkson and 'Tasia levels of adoration and worship. Either Adam or Kris will be like that for me. Which means that also for the first time someone will come second who my heart will break for. And that’s why I watch this show, no?
Darlings, for that, I’ll take all the crap that this show has shoveled this season. I’ll take the “innovations” , like the judges’ save, that add absolutely no value to this show. I’ll take the almost complete destruction of Simon’s autonomy and integrity. I’ll take the emergence of “nasty Paula”. For the glory that will be the Adam/Kris finale, kiddies, I will even take Judge #4. Yes, that’s right. My love for our glittery boy/girl alien sex god and our sweet ‘n sexy honey dip from AR is so great that it completely overshadows the nasty piece of business that is Kara DioworsethanIeverthoughtshe’dbe. I still hope and pray that Simon Fuller and Cecile Frout Coutaz will come to their senses and drop that fool like a bad habit over the summer (Along with most of the other "innovations"), but for now, I’m basking in the warm, warm glow.
Next stop Kodak Theater, y'all. Remember when Prince and Mary J came to the finale and made the Hoff cry? Imagine if they all came back and Kris and Adam were added to the mix. Sweet fancy Moses! I can. not. wait.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
American Idol S8 Finals Ep19 I'm Tellin' All Y'all, It's Sabotage
Kittens, mama’s under the gun. I have to board a plane winging my way east tomorrow, so you get the quick and dirty, which is what the show gave us tonight anyway, no? So somehow, it all works out as it should. Darlings, I have tried to stay pure this week, no Idol blogs, no Idolatry (I miss Slezak!). I mean, there was that devil temptress, EW, in my mailbox with a gorgeous picture of Adam Lambert beckoning me, but I resisted. I wanted to purge my system of my lust for Lambert, my breathless appreciation of the pretty, pretty Kris, and my all consuming hatred for Frikkin’ Gokey, so that I could judge the kids fairly on their F3 performances. And it didn’t even matter, noodles. Kris Allen is still hotter than the sun. Frikkin’ Gokey is still the tooliest tool in toolville. And Adam Lambert is still a freak of nature sex machine who will win this totally meaningless talent show or there will be hell to pay. So let’s do this, because I still have to pack.
So tonight’s show was severely underwhelming. And riddle me this, darlings, with the kids only singing two rather than the customary three songs this evening, how is it that the lovely and talented Ryan Seacrest was still not able to bring the show in on time? I’m so disappointed in my pocket gay this season. He has let the judges run amok, and this year they deserve it less than ever. Did we really need to indulge in "Pop Goes the Paula" as Ms. Abdul played chicken with her breasts in yet another too small, too tight bustier? Did we care to partake of Simon v. Judge #4 and the most lopsided mental mismatch of all time? And seriously, Randy, just go away and do ABDC. No one will miss you or your increasingly bizarre array of button down, striped cardigans. Kittens, the judges are seriously chapping my ass this season.
Side Note: Crack Whores. Trannys. We were doing so well the last couple of weeks. But tonight. Oh, no, babies. No. Was that an acid wash denim shirt on Adam? No. Did y’all put Kris Allen in women’s jeans? No, no. Y’all let Frikkin’ Gokey wear the cater waiter vest again and grow a mountain man beard? No. Well, OK, yes to the last thing because I hate Gokey, but as to the first two? No, no. You all are back on punishment.
Judges’ Picks
Frikkin’ Gokey/Dance Little Sister (Terence Trent D’Arby/Paula’s Pick) – Noodles, you can’t convince me that Paula doesn’t secretly hate this fool. Why else would she pick this third tier song from this second rate and wholly forgotten artist? As Simon pointed out, if you must go with TTD, why not Sign Your Name or Wishing Well? Sabotaging Gokey in this manner is yet another reason to adore Pau Pau. Because one must admit that theoretically a TTD song fits Gokey’s particular vocal talents, no? And yet this song sucks and lends itself to the shout-y, which is exactly what Frikkin’ Gokey pulled out. Kiddies, it was a delicious trainwreck. He was the worst he’s been in weeks. Shout-y, loud is the new good crap. And of course the judges lied their asses off, but does it really matter? Frikkin’ Gokey has informed us that he’s just there to have fun. Well isn’t that nice for him. Meanwhile, the rest of us suffer. Ugh. Epic fail for this fool.
Kris Allen/Apologize (One Republic/Randy and Kara’s Pick) – Sigh. Why does the show hate him when he’s so pretty? Just the facts, darlings? Kris sang the song well, played around with the melody just enough to not be a complete copy of the original. I, for one, am quite glad that he didn’t keep it all up in his head voice/falsetto as the original song does. That said, it was kind of boring and not a “get up off your couch and vote” performance. That said, the judges couldn’t wait to throw Kris under the bus, and all save Simon lied their asses off. Oh, and Paula? I must take her to task, which pains me because I love her. But seriously? Now, after eight seasons, she decided to call someone out for a bum note? After eight seasons of rainbows, and colors of voices, and “you look beautifuls” and shining spirits and shit? Now, all of a sudden, she’s calling people on missed notes and going off pitch? This from a woman who forgot to lip synch during her “singing” performance last week? Bitch, please. That is all.
Adam Lambert/One (U2/Simon’s Pick) – This was a great song choice, and the first part of the song was quite lovely. The back half, I didn’t love. I have to agree with, horror of horrors, Judge #4. And insert here the saying about broken clocks, blah, blah, but excuse me because I just threw up a little in my mouth. But darlings, going off the melody to the extent that our little alien sex god did was a little bit distracting. And unnecessary as this song is just a touch perfect as written. Adam was in fine voice, but then again, he always is. In eight seasons, he is perhaps the only contestant to never have a truly disastrous vocal performance ever. And was he wearing purple eye shadow, kittens? Made of awesome.
So Judges’ Pick round was kind of a wash. The greatest part? In Kris’ home video package, you can see that he was wearing Adam’s black nail polish half chipped off of his thumb, and the image in my head of the two of them playing nail salon in Adam’s bedroom while Frikkin’ Gokey looks on jealously from the hallway is delicious, noodles. Trust that this is so. Kris and Adam are my favorite presumptive final two ever. Too much pretty in one place. I wonder what else got wet that night? The monkey faced wife is in so much trouble.
Contestants’ Picks
Frikkin’ Gokey/You Are So Beautiful (Joe Cocker) – FG made up words to the song. Just made up a whole verse to the song. Fucking Gokey. What an ass! Who does that? Is he really just too good to sing the song as written? I could surmise that perhaps he forgot his lyrics so rather than throw in yet more “doo doo doos” he chose to just make some shit up, but I really don’t feel that FG has earned that charitable of a reading. So anyway, darlings, he didn’t scream at me the entire time, so it was already a million times better than his first song. And it was still the most boring thing in creation ever. And did he throw a sideways peace sign and double bump his chest while his numbers were being given? Y’all, he might be a bigger tool than Fivehead and Daughtry combined. No lie.
Kris Allen/Heartless (Kanye West) – I adore the fact that Kris just went balls to the wall on this one. And it totally paid off. I hate this song with a passion and yet this kid made me love it. I looooovvveeedddd it. Loved it. Loved him. Loved it and him. This is how you reinvent a song. I don’t even have any words, kiddies. Hotter than the sun. This performance should have sewn up his place in F2, but Americans are stupid sometimes, so who knows, right?
Adam Lambert/Cryin’ (Aerosmith) – Really? Huh. Hated the song choice, noodles. But I’m sure Judge #4 was pleased to get some early Aerosmith. And once the coked up monkeys in production figured out how to turn down the mics on the back up singers, this was a kick ass performance. Adam unleashed that crazy vocal range, schooled Gokey on how to do the rock scream effectively, stuck that tongue out in ways that I dream about and brought it like we all know he can. It was an easy performance for him and felt like definitely not his best. But since Adam’s not his best is better than most people’s perfect, I enjoyed it. I just wish he’d given us something less expected.
So tomorrow, if there is any justice, I will be ensconced in a hotel with room service and a Kris/Adam final two. Kittens, you do not want to deal with me if Frikkin’ Gokey makes F2. Can I trust you?
So tonight’s show was severely underwhelming. And riddle me this, darlings, with the kids only singing two rather than the customary three songs this evening, how is it that the lovely and talented Ryan Seacrest was still not able to bring the show in on time? I’m so disappointed in my pocket gay this season. He has let the judges run amok, and this year they deserve it less than ever. Did we really need to indulge in "Pop Goes the Paula" as Ms. Abdul played chicken with her breasts in yet another too small, too tight bustier? Did we care to partake of Simon v. Judge #4 and the most lopsided mental mismatch of all time? And seriously, Randy, just go away and do ABDC. No one will miss you or your increasingly bizarre array of button down, striped cardigans. Kittens, the judges are seriously chapping my ass this season.
Side Note: Crack Whores. Trannys. We were doing so well the last couple of weeks. But tonight. Oh, no, babies. No. Was that an acid wash denim shirt on Adam? No. Did y’all put Kris Allen in women’s jeans? No, no. Y’all let Frikkin’ Gokey wear the cater waiter vest again and grow a mountain man beard? No. Well, OK, yes to the last thing because I hate Gokey, but as to the first two? No, no. You all are back on punishment.
Judges’ Picks
Frikkin’ Gokey/Dance Little Sister (Terence Trent D’Arby/Paula’s Pick) – Noodles, you can’t convince me that Paula doesn’t secretly hate this fool. Why else would she pick this third tier song from this second rate and wholly forgotten artist? As Simon pointed out, if you must go with TTD, why not Sign Your Name or Wishing Well? Sabotaging Gokey in this manner is yet another reason to adore Pau Pau. Because one must admit that theoretically a TTD song fits Gokey’s particular vocal talents, no? And yet this song sucks and lends itself to the shout-y, which is exactly what Frikkin’ Gokey pulled out. Kiddies, it was a delicious trainwreck. He was the worst he’s been in weeks. Shout-y, loud is the new good crap. And of course the judges lied their asses off, but does it really matter? Frikkin’ Gokey has informed us that he’s just there to have fun. Well isn’t that nice for him. Meanwhile, the rest of us suffer. Ugh. Epic fail for this fool.
Kris Allen/Apologize (One Republic/Randy and Kara’s Pick) – Sigh. Why does the show hate him when he’s so pretty? Just the facts, darlings? Kris sang the song well, played around with the melody just enough to not be a complete copy of the original. I, for one, am quite glad that he didn’t keep it all up in his head voice/falsetto as the original song does. That said, it was kind of boring and not a “get up off your couch and vote” performance. That said, the judges couldn’t wait to throw Kris under the bus, and all save Simon lied their asses off. Oh, and Paula? I must take her to task, which pains me because I love her. But seriously? Now, after eight seasons, she decided to call someone out for a bum note? After eight seasons of rainbows, and colors of voices, and “you look beautifuls” and shining spirits and shit? Now, all of a sudden, she’s calling people on missed notes and going off pitch? This from a woman who forgot to lip synch during her “singing” performance last week? Bitch, please. That is all.
Adam Lambert/One (U2/Simon’s Pick) – This was a great song choice, and the first part of the song was quite lovely. The back half, I didn’t love. I have to agree with, horror of horrors, Judge #4. And insert here the saying about broken clocks, blah, blah, but excuse me because I just threw up a little in my mouth. But darlings, going off the melody to the extent that our little alien sex god did was a little bit distracting. And unnecessary as this song is just a touch perfect as written. Adam was in fine voice, but then again, he always is. In eight seasons, he is perhaps the only contestant to never have a truly disastrous vocal performance ever. And was he wearing purple eye shadow, kittens? Made of awesome.
So Judges’ Pick round was kind of a wash. The greatest part? In Kris’ home video package, you can see that he was wearing Adam’s black nail polish half chipped off of his thumb, and the image in my head of the two of them playing nail salon in Adam’s bedroom while Frikkin’ Gokey looks on jealously from the hallway is delicious, noodles. Trust that this is so. Kris and Adam are my favorite presumptive final two ever. Too much pretty in one place. I wonder what else got wet that night? The monkey faced wife is in so much trouble.
Contestants’ Picks
Frikkin’ Gokey/You Are So Beautiful (Joe Cocker) – FG made up words to the song. Just made up a whole verse to the song. Fucking Gokey. What an ass! Who does that? Is he really just too good to sing the song as written? I could surmise that perhaps he forgot his lyrics so rather than throw in yet more “doo doo doos” he chose to just make some shit up, but I really don’t feel that FG has earned that charitable of a reading. So anyway, darlings, he didn’t scream at me the entire time, so it was already a million times better than his first song. And it was still the most boring thing in creation ever. And did he throw a sideways peace sign and double bump his chest while his numbers were being given? Y’all, he might be a bigger tool than Fivehead and Daughtry combined. No lie.
Kris Allen/Heartless (Kanye West) – I adore the fact that Kris just went balls to the wall on this one. And it totally paid off. I hate this song with a passion and yet this kid made me love it. I looooovvveeedddd it. Loved it. Loved him. Loved it and him. This is how you reinvent a song. I don’t even have any words, kiddies. Hotter than the sun. This performance should have sewn up his place in F2, but Americans are stupid sometimes, so who knows, right?
Adam Lambert/Cryin’ (Aerosmith) – Really? Huh. Hated the song choice, noodles. But I’m sure Judge #4 was pleased to get some early Aerosmith. And once the coked up monkeys in production figured out how to turn down the mics on the back up singers, this was a kick ass performance. Adam unleashed that crazy vocal range, schooled Gokey on how to do the rock scream effectively, stuck that tongue out in ways that I dream about and brought it like we all know he can. It was an easy performance for him and felt like definitely not his best. But since Adam’s not his best is better than most people’s perfect, I enjoyed it. I just wish he’d given us something less expected.
So tomorrow, if there is any justice, I will be ensconced in a hotel with room service and a Kris/Adam final two. Kittens, you do not want to deal with me if Frikkin’ Gokey makes F2. Can I trust you?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
American Idol S8 Finals Ep18 Aftermath
Kittens, this results show was a mash up of everything that I love and hate about American Idol. Je suis confused. On the one hand, Paula Abdul is a tiny, surprisingly big breasted ball of awesome and her “singing” performance was one of the greatest things I’ve seen in my entire life. On the other hand, Frikkin’ Gokey turned out to be the absolute worst person in all of humanity in exactly the way that my beloved reality TV has taught people to be hideous creatures. On the other, other hand, Allison gave perhaps the single best sing out I have ever seen on this or any other performance based competition show. There are two great lucky loser FIGJAM performances in the history of reality TV – performances where the loser made it completely irrelevant who won because the towering artistry of what they laid down was so undeniable that they drew back the curtain on America’s fiction that we are a merit based society. One is Danny Tidwell on SYTYCD doing things with his body to We Are the Champions that are just beyond human, nigh unto divine and being a fabulous queen diva bitch about it the whole time. The other, also on SYTYCD and pre-dating the Danny fabulousness, was Blake’s opus to another Queen song, Body Language. I still don’t know how he got his shirt off while spinning like that and the ending flip defies the laws of man and nature. To these two performances, I will now add a third, because Ms. Iraheta tore down that Janis Joplin song. As much as I was meh about her performance on Tuesday night, I was on fire after her last stand. That’s the Allison I’ve been longing for, melting faces with that incredible voice of hers, throwing attitude all over Simon, throwing shade all over Judge #4 when she went in for the hug, giving mad love to Paula as should all individuals, and completely ignoring the Dawg. A sacrosanct and holy performance that almost reached Fantasia/I Believe levels of greatness. Damn. And of course, America screwed it up again and sent that fantasticness home, noodles. AI voters make the baby Jesus cry, y’all.
But anyway, let’s deal with this results night show, shall we? I was alarmed that the show began with Ryan talking about someone getting schooled, a phrase which should never, ever be uttered by an overly orange, metrosexual man, not even in a post-ironic hipsterish way. I was also alarmed that they stuck my Ryan in the swaybot pit. You don’t know where those hos have been. They probably cooked up the swine flu in their sweaty basement lair. I shudder, kiddies. Hands off my Ryan. Also disturbing? 64 million votes were cast for this sham of a show. I mean, I love Idol more than any soul crushing, manufactured drama generator in history, but I have never, ever picked up a phone to cast even a single vote for this fake ass show. Not that I’m judging, because you voters out there are what keep my favorite pop trash entertainment on the airwaves. But y’all ain’t right. That’s all I’m saying.
Next up, pimpmercial. And I love how they are now just basically Adam and Kris standing around looking gorgeous and then Gokey pops up out of a garbage can or peeks out from behind Kris’ ass cheek and he’s wearing suspenders or a bib or some shit and then just before the end, they let Allison show up and sing two bars. I love that. And then the group sing severely underwhelmed and continued the week long theme of craptacular song choices. And kittens, my heart was breaking because it was completely evident even here that all of the AI-lettes knew that Allison was going home, including Allison. Poor, wee Manic Panic. At least she got to take out her aggression by slapping Gokey around. You slapped for us all, chola. You slapped for us all.
And we must, noodles, we must pause and consider the wrongness that was Ryan’s interview with Frikkin’ Gokey because as much as I love reality TV, Gokey’s entire problem with his gigantic assitude can be traced back to its roots. And while in most cases I vehemently disagree, in this way, reality TV is actually ruining America. How, you ask, kiddies? By taking away our sense of shame. Because the fact that Frikkin’ Gokey wasn’t so embarrassed by the awful, awful horror of his performance last night to the point where he couldn’t even think about crawling out from under the covers and showing his face anywhere in polite society? The fact that he thought that shit was funny, that he was proud of it? That he felt it represented his finest moment on Idol, that he wants to feature it in a movie, Gokey: The Frikkin’ Gokey Story? That shit is foul. And that is a direct result of reality TV stripping us of our sense of shame. When a Top Model contestant can run around in an adult sized diaper and pee on herself on national TV and still make Top 5, it desensitizes us to what we should rightly be ashamed of. When one of the most beloved characters from any season of The Real World is a tiny Hawaiian girl who spent her entire season drunk off her ass and endangering both her life and, at times, the lives of her castmates, then we have lost our ability to be truly humbled by our bad behavior. When a show like Celebrity Apprentice can even exist, it indicates that our basic sense of decorum has broken down to such an extent that we allow something like Frikkin’ Gokey to happen. Why wouldn’t he be a smarmy cheesemaster, when that is everything we glorify on a day-to-day basis on the 12 millionth season of Rock of Love? We have met the Gokey, and he is us. Kittens, what I’m saying is that Frikkin’ Gokey just cannot win this season of American Idol. Not just for me, or for you, but for America. Think on it.
But just as AI makes us face the horror of the worst of us, it also gives us a delicious taste of the best of us. And that taste came last night in the form of one Ms. Paula Abdul. Darlings, I don’t care that she lip synched to a song that was 99% vocoder. I don’t care that at times she forgot to even pretend to pretend to be singing. Paula, at 140 million years old, can still dance her ass off and she looked damn good doing it. The breasts were just this side of out of control, managing to stave of the final escape from her minimal clothing option even whilst being flipped over backward and hoisted one handed over the head of a back up dancer or being flung face first into the waiting arms of a sea of gay men. The song is kind of crappy and I would never ever listen to it on the radio let alone buy the download off itunes, but dammit, noodles, Paula is the queen. Saucy! That’s the happiest I’ve seen her look since she was a purple and gold clad Laker girl. Oh, Pau Pau. You earned your pills last night.
Noodles, I could write more, but why bother? Nobody cares about No Doubt anymore. They don’t even have any new music. Gavin Rossdale lost that cute Brit thing he used to have. Gwen is way too old to do that rock pixie thing and since she can’t actually sing, well . . . I think Sanjaya could’ve done a better job. Daughtry is the nasty precursor to Fivehead and I refuse. Kris and Adam continue on in the hopes of becoming the perfect sexy beast double winner of AI and Allison kicked ass and confirmed that not winning American Idol is a demonstrably better path to fame and fortune than winning American Idol. And then we were out.
Next week, we’ll get home visits and I expect every self respecting queen in the greater San Diego metro area to turn out in full drag for our little alien boy/girl sex god, Adam Lambert, and freak middle America right the hell on out. We’ll also get the undead husk of Clive Davis proving that while he may, in fact be a blood sucking were-creature, he can pick a song like nobody’s business. For the love of all that’s holy, please do not Let Judge #4 pick anything. Not even her nose. No, nothing, darlings. And then, if we all clap our hands and believe real, real hard, Frikkin’ Gokey will finally be sent back to the primordial ooze from whence he came and we will wind up with the prettiest final two in the history of creation. Adam and Kris together in the finale would be so hot my TV might explode. Let’s make that happen, no?
But anyway, let’s deal with this results night show, shall we? I was alarmed that the show began with Ryan talking about someone getting schooled, a phrase which should never, ever be uttered by an overly orange, metrosexual man, not even in a post-ironic hipsterish way. I was also alarmed that they stuck my Ryan in the swaybot pit. You don’t know where those hos have been. They probably cooked up the swine flu in their sweaty basement lair. I shudder, kiddies. Hands off my Ryan. Also disturbing? 64 million votes were cast for this sham of a show. I mean, I love Idol more than any soul crushing, manufactured drama generator in history, but I have never, ever picked up a phone to cast even a single vote for this fake ass show. Not that I’m judging, because you voters out there are what keep my favorite pop trash entertainment on the airwaves. But y’all ain’t right. That’s all I’m saying.
Next up, pimpmercial. And I love how they are now just basically Adam and Kris standing around looking gorgeous and then Gokey pops up out of a garbage can or peeks out from behind Kris’ ass cheek and he’s wearing suspenders or a bib or some shit and then just before the end, they let Allison show up and sing two bars. I love that. And then the group sing severely underwhelmed and continued the week long theme of craptacular song choices. And kittens, my heart was breaking because it was completely evident even here that all of the AI-lettes knew that Allison was going home, including Allison. Poor, wee Manic Panic. At least she got to take out her aggression by slapping Gokey around. You slapped for us all, chola. You slapped for us all.
And we must, noodles, we must pause and consider the wrongness that was Ryan’s interview with Frikkin’ Gokey because as much as I love reality TV, Gokey’s entire problem with his gigantic assitude can be traced back to its roots. And while in most cases I vehemently disagree, in this way, reality TV is actually ruining America. How, you ask, kiddies? By taking away our sense of shame. Because the fact that Frikkin’ Gokey wasn’t so embarrassed by the awful, awful horror of his performance last night to the point where he couldn’t even think about crawling out from under the covers and showing his face anywhere in polite society? The fact that he thought that shit was funny, that he was proud of it? That he felt it represented his finest moment on Idol, that he wants to feature it in a movie, Gokey: The Frikkin’ Gokey Story? That shit is foul. And that is a direct result of reality TV stripping us of our sense of shame. When a Top Model contestant can run around in an adult sized diaper and pee on herself on national TV and still make Top 5, it desensitizes us to what we should rightly be ashamed of. When one of the most beloved characters from any season of The Real World is a tiny Hawaiian girl who spent her entire season drunk off her ass and endangering both her life and, at times, the lives of her castmates, then we have lost our ability to be truly humbled by our bad behavior. When a show like Celebrity Apprentice can even exist, it indicates that our basic sense of decorum has broken down to such an extent that we allow something like Frikkin’ Gokey to happen. Why wouldn’t he be a smarmy cheesemaster, when that is everything we glorify on a day-to-day basis on the 12 millionth season of Rock of Love? We have met the Gokey, and he is us. Kittens, what I’m saying is that Frikkin’ Gokey just cannot win this season of American Idol. Not just for me, or for you, but for America. Think on it.
But just as AI makes us face the horror of the worst of us, it also gives us a delicious taste of the best of us. And that taste came last night in the form of one Ms. Paula Abdul. Darlings, I don’t care that she lip synched to a song that was 99% vocoder. I don’t care that at times she forgot to even pretend to pretend to be singing. Paula, at 140 million years old, can still dance her ass off and she looked damn good doing it. The breasts were just this side of out of control, managing to stave of the final escape from her minimal clothing option even whilst being flipped over backward and hoisted one handed over the head of a back up dancer or being flung face first into the waiting arms of a sea of gay men. The song is kind of crappy and I would never ever listen to it on the radio let alone buy the download off itunes, but dammit, noodles, Paula is the queen. Saucy! That’s the happiest I’ve seen her look since she was a purple and gold clad Laker girl. Oh, Pau Pau. You earned your pills last night.
Noodles, I could write more, but why bother? Nobody cares about No Doubt anymore. They don’t even have any new music. Gavin Rossdale lost that cute Brit thing he used to have. Gwen is way too old to do that rock pixie thing and since she can’t actually sing, well . . . I think Sanjaya could’ve done a better job. Daughtry is the nasty precursor to Fivehead and I refuse. Kris and Adam continue on in the hopes of becoming the perfect sexy beast double winner of AI and Allison kicked ass and confirmed that not winning American Idol is a demonstrably better path to fame and fortune than winning American Idol. And then we were out.
Next week, we’ll get home visits and I expect every self respecting queen in the greater San Diego metro area to turn out in full drag for our little alien boy/girl sex god, Adam Lambert, and freak middle America right the hell on out. We’ll also get the undead husk of Clive Davis proving that while he may, in fact be a blood sucking were-creature, he can pick a song like nobody’s business. For the love of all that’s holy, please do not Let Judge #4 pick anything. Not even her nose. No, nothing, darlings. And then, if we all clap our hands and believe real, real hard, Frikkin’ Gokey will finally be sent back to the primordial ooze from whence he came and we will wind up with the prettiest final two in the history of creation. Adam and Kris together in the finale would be so hot my TV might explode. Let’s make that happen, no?
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
American Idol S8 Finals Ep17 Suicide Right On the Stage
Is there a snippet of lyrics more apt for what happened to Frikkin’ Gokey last night on AI than the immortal one just above by rock gods The Rolling Stones? (And btw, wtf on no Stones last night? They just had to go with Styx, right? I am giving Uncle Scrooge McFuller the stink eye right here and now, kittens) That yowl (I won’t call it caterwauling because that would be an insult to cats everywhere) heard round the world should have sealed our little Lenscrafter Jesus’ fate and sent him back to his pierce face friend and living room hootenannies. Sadly, much like Simon, I don’t think FG (because I know him like that, y’all) is going anywhere tonight. In fact, noodles, I believe that if FG survives the 9:00 instant replay note massacre, he may very well be your next American Idol. Chew on that, darlings. I defy you not to produce noises 100 million times more bloodcurdling than the Gokey scream.
And kittens, it couldn’t be less fair that Frikkin’ Gokey will likely survive a night that was an absolute blood bath for him while Allison will probably go home on a night when she sounded and most especially looked better than she has on her entire run on this show. Let this be a lesson to the fashion challenged among you out there. Get yourself a good gay and you will find a way to overcome about 90% of your tragic clothing and hair faux pas. Also, the hair and make up trannys should contact Adam’s girl immediately and take copious notes because that, kiddies, is how it is motherfucking done.
So anyway, poor Ryan had to captain this listing ship without the benefit of a proper dress rehearsal thanks to the tragic accident suffered by Debbie the stage manager (who is in our thoughts) and the denizens of the swaybot pit (who we wish the stage had somehow managed to take out in its thirst for human blood). And he looked spectacular doing it as he has all season. Although, someone needs to have a tan-ervention with our wee pocket gay, no? Because he is reaching Project Runway Blaine levels of orange and nobody wants that. Side Note: White people of America, you are white. All of us brown people have accepted this. Why can’t you? For the love of god, step away from the self tanner. A nation of brown people thanks you. Judge #4 tied up what little brains and personality she has into that ridiculously lopsided ponytail she was sporting. The Dawg actually talked some sense a couple three times. And Simon continued to be a lackey for the producers and broke my heart some more. Also, Slash was awesome and hated Frikkin’ Gokey more than possibly anyone has in the entire history of the world and it was glorious to behold. Let’s take the solos as one batch and then deal with the duets which brought us levels of discomfort not seen since the BBC version of The Office (Kris and Danny) and levels of delight not seen since . . . ever? Xanadu? Oh, I give up, darlings. Adam and Allison were amazing together.
SOLOS
Let’s Spend the Night Together
Kris Allen/Come Together (The Beatles) – Hotter than the sun! I loved it. Say what you will about The Beatles not being exactly the epitome of classic rock on a night with Slash as the mentor, this here was just about as “heavy” as Kris could go and he knew it. What I love about this kid (aside from the general fact that he is smoking) is that he really knows himself as an artist and he stays true to that. It doesn’t always 100% work (Don Henley? Really?) but since the judges are always carping on wanting to understand what kind of records these kids would make post-Idol he is the perfect contestant to put the lie to all that crap, no? His phrasing, as usual, was impeccable and he gave just enough subtle tweaks to avoid the copycat problem that both Adam and Allison fell into last night. And the side mouth delivery really worked for him here, allowing him to toy with the melody in some spots in amusing ways while also being sexy as fuck. Immediate points off on Judge #4 for stealing the Sears ad tag line in her critique of Kris’ performance. Y’all, was she worse than she’s ever been, every single one of her flaws out on front street last night or was it just me? It wasn’t just me? Alright-y then. Anyhow, noodles, Kris does not have the voice for rock and roll. We are all agreed on that. And yet, he managed to give the best performance of the night, despite the drive by critiquing the judges carried out on him.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Adam Lambert/Whole Lotta Love (Led Zepplin) – Kittens, I didn’t love the song choice. I’m happy for Adam because he clearly did love it. And he performed the hell out of it. And yet, the performance had a “been there/done that” feel for me, right? And it wasn’t because it was too much like Robert Plant’s version because I am not up on the rock and roll and I don’t know this song from a hole in the ground. No, it was because I could’ve plotted that performance on a graph. Tease, taunt, eye fuck the camera, a little growl-y sexy, some power in the vocals, pull back, strut, strut, strut, make ‘em beg for it, and then glory note right to the g-spot. It was sexy as all get out. And I can see why Judge #4 just came on national TV. But I want even more from Adam, not because I’m greedy (although I am greedy) but because I know he can. I want Adam Lambert incredible, even though I know that Adam Lambert good is already 50 million times better than anyone else on this show has ever been (and that includes Miss Kelly Clarkson who has only reached Lambert-ian levels post AI). Eh, I still watched it about 50 more times last night on Rickey.org.
Allison Iraheta/Cry Baby (Janis Joplin) – So, in a minute, I’m going to explain to y’all why this was perhaps my least favorite Manic Panic performance of the entire season despite the fact that she looked incredible for pretty much the first time ever. But first I am going to praise Allison to the high heavens for throwing shade all over Judge #4 and her idiotic suggestion that the world’s favorite chola sing that tired, tired AI staple, Piece of My Heart. Really, Judge #4? Really? OK, noodles, back to the reason why I hated this performance and believe it or not, the Dawg nailed it. This song has zero melody. It’s one note sung over and over again and then screaming “cry baby” like a gazillion times. And the screaming was certainly impressive. Allison was in fine voice, although the enunciation went all to shit again. But this song didn’t showcase her like she should’ve been showcased on this, the tailor made week for her to shine. Adam, for all his glow, is not a rocker kid. He is a theater drama queen. Kris is a café rocker/folkie type and Gokey is whatever it is that Jesus-y, choir directors who aren’t flaming (a surprisingly small subset) are. Allison is the only true rocker in the bunch. This performance should’ve been her Mad World. And this week should’ve been the week that she threw salt in Adam’s game and made people think that maybe, just maybe, she had a shot at taking the crown. Instead, we got her aping Janis and mouthing off to the judges (which was admittedly cute and made her seem not like a moron in real life for a hot second) but that ain’t gonna get her to the confetti shower. It was a solid performance but a huge missed opportunity.
Sympathy for the Devil
Frikkin’ Gokey/Dream On (Aerosmith) – And no, kittens, I don’t have any. Well, maybe I have a little, but not much. I actually thought Gokey might be able to make something out of this song. The first part was not bad at all. Subdued and understated, for him. He was on pitch and seemed to be connected with the band and where they were taking the song. And he still looked hot, despite the fact that he clearly sprinted over from his side job as a waiter at the local bistro. And then came the “doo doo doos” into the chorus, which I might have even been able to overlook, because up until then he was letting that beautiful voice really do what it do. But then, darlings. Oh, then. What that boy done to the end of this gorgeous song was not right. Like all right minded people, I hate what Aerosmith became once they entered the 00’s and got swallowed whole by the Diane Warren Adult Contemporary Music Industrial Complex. But early Aerosmith kicks tremendous amounts of ass. And Dream On will forever be a classic, even though the string section acoustic MTV unplugged VMA version signaled the beginning of the end for this group. What I loved about this performance was that in the intro clip, you can totally see Slash realizing what a clusterfuck this is going to be and loving it. Slash hates Gokey. The producers who ran the hideous "three or four notes going on in there" (Props to the Dawg again! He was on fire last night, kiddies) as the recap clip hate Gokey. Won’t you hate Gokey, too?
DUETS
What a Shame
Kris & FG/Renegade (Styx) – Awkward. Kris haaaaates Gokey. As all right minded people do. (See above) They didn’t sound terrible together. They harmonized very well, which was something of a small miracle given that it looked like Kris wanted to see how far he could shove that mic stand up FG’s rectum. And Simon had a moment of clarity when he declared that FG outsang Kris, which was bound to happen as the gruff timbre of Gokey’s voice is a hundered times more well suited to a song like this, and to rock in general, than Kris’ style and voice, which is admittedly light as a feather. (And that’s another reason why the judges critiques of Frikkin’ Gokey were just ludicrous. FG may not like rock, but his voice with that raspy thing he’s got going is tailor made for it, so the whole notion that rock is somehow not his thing is complete and utter bullshit, noodles. I need a shovel) In fact, it was right here during this performance when I realized that someone I actually liked was going home tonight. Gokey sounded amazing, even though the performance didn’t really work on any level.
We Love You
Adam & Allison/Slow Ride (Foghat) – Adam’s pants were the tightest things I have ever seen. How did he even get them on, noodles? And who was the lucky, lucky crack whore in wardrobe who got to serve as his dresser last night? Because damn. Just damn. And Allison continued to look adorable and at her flat ironed best. And the two of them together? Well, I’ll just quote Ryan, “Soooooo cute.” Once again, I wouldn’t have chosen this song for them, which is just a variation on a theme from last night, kittens. And in the end it didn’t matter. They were glorious and clearly having enough fun for everyone in the studio. And I believe they caused Simon and Paula to start making out at the judges table, but I’ll have to check the tape on that one. Good way to close on a high note.
So now we await the loss of either Allison or Kris. Like Simon, I think enough of the Lambert-ian glow might have rubbed off on Allison to actually save her, which would be tragic since Kris, in his quiet way, was the best of the night. The AI gods are fickle and came up with this theme just to torture me with the original flavor tool, Daughtry, on results show night. But we also get a Paula “performance” complete with her “singing” her new single which should be almost as awe inspiring as last season’s premier of the Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow video (an underrated classic, btw). I thought about commenting on the whole Judge #4/Aerosmith debacle, but I don’t even have the energy anymore. Only a few more weeks until I get my SYTYCD back and a level of informed judgery (even when I disagree) the likes of which has never been experienced on this Idol stage. And maybe Steven Tyler will run into Judge #4 on the street during the off season and strangle her with a long, gaily colored scarf. Dream on.
And kittens, it couldn’t be less fair that Frikkin’ Gokey will likely survive a night that was an absolute blood bath for him while Allison will probably go home on a night when she sounded and most especially looked better than she has on her entire run on this show. Let this be a lesson to the fashion challenged among you out there. Get yourself a good gay and you will find a way to overcome about 90% of your tragic clothing and hair faux pas. Also, the hair and make up trannys should contact Adam’s girl immediately and take copious notes because that, kiddies, is how it is motherfucking done.
So anyway, poor Ryan had to captain this listing ship without the benefit of a proper dress rehearsal thanks to the tragic accident suffered by Debbie the stage manager (who is in our thoughts) and the denizens of the swaybot pit (who we wish the stage had somehow managed to take out in its thirst for human blood). And he looked spectacular doing it as he has all season. Although, someone needs to have a tan-ervention with our wee pocket gay, no? Because he is reaching Project Runway Blaine levels of orange and nobody wants that. Side Note: White people of America, you are white. All of us brown people have accepted this. Why can’t you? For the love of god, step away from the self tanner. A nation of brown people thanks you. Judge #4 tied up what little brains and personality she has into that ridiculously lopsided ponytail she was sporting. The Dawg actually talked some sense a couple three times. And Simon continued to be a lackey for the producers and broke my heart some more. Also, Slash was awesome and hated Frikkin’ Gokey more than possibly anyone has in the entire history of the world and it was glorious to behold. Let’s take the solos as one batch and then deal with the duets which brought us levels of discomfort not seen since the BBC version of The Office (Kris and Danny) and levels of delight not seen since . . . ever? Xanadu? Oh, I give up, darlings. Adam and Allison were amazing together.
SOLOS
Let’s Spend the Night Together
Kris Allen/Come Together (The Beatles) – Hotter than the sun! I loved it. Say what you will about The Beatles not being exactly the epitome of classic rock on a night with Slash as the mentor, this here was just about as “heavy” as Kris could go and he knew it. What I love about this kid (aside from the general fact that he is smoking) is that he really knows himself as an artist and he stays true to that. It doesn’t always 100% work (Don Henley? Really?) but since the judges are always carping on wanting to understand what kind of records these kids would make post-Idol he is the perfect contestant to put the lie to all that crap, no? His phrasing, as usual, was impeccable and he gave just enough subtle tweaks to avoid the copycat problem that both Adam and Allison fell into last night. And the side mouth delivery really worked for him here, allowing him to toy with the melody in some spots in amusing ways while also being sexy as fuck. Immediate points off on Judge #4 for stealing the Sears ad tag line in her critique of Kris’ performance. Y’all, was she worse than she’s ever been, every single one of her flaws out on front street last night or was it just me? It wasn’t just me? Alright-y then. Anyhow, noodles, Kris does not have the voice for rock and roll. We are all agreed on that. And yet, he managed to give the best performance of the night, despite the drive by critiquing the judges carried out on him.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want
Adam Lambert/Whole Lotta Love (Led Zepplin) – Kittens, I didn’t love the song choice. I’m happy for Adam because he clearly did love it. And he performed the hell out of it. And yet, the performance had a “been there/done that” feel for me, right? And it wasn’t because it was too much like Robert Plant’s version because I am not up on the rock and roll and I don’t know this song from a hole in the ground. No, it was because I could’ve plotted that performance on a graph. Tease, taunt, eye fuck the camera, a little growl-y sexy, some power in the vocals, pull back, strut, strut, strut, make ‘em beg for it, and then glory note right to the g-spot. It was sexy as all get out. And I can see why Judge #4 just came on national TV. But I want even more from Adam, not because I’m greedy (although I am greedy) but because I know he can. I want Adam Lambert incredible, even though I know that Adam Lambert good is already 50 million times better than anyone else on this show has ever been (and that includes Miss Kelly Clarkson who has only reached Lambert-ian levels post AI). Eh, I still watched it about 50 more times last night on Rickey.org.
Allison Iraheta/Cry Baby (Janis Joplin) – So, in a minute, I’m going to explain to y’all why this was perhaps my least favorite Manic Panic performance of the entire season despite the fact that she looked incredible for pretty much the first time ever. But first I am going to praise Allison to the high heavens for throwing shade all over Judge #4 and her idiotic suggestion that the world’s favorite chola sing that tired, tired AI staple, Piece of My Heart. Really, Judge #4? Really? OK, noodles, back to the reason why I hated this performance and believe it or not, the Dawg nailed it. This song has zero melody. It’s one note sung over and over again and then screaming “cry baby” like a gazillion times. And the screaming was certainly impressive. Allison was in fine voice, although the enunciation went all to shit again. But this song didn’t showcase her like she should’ve been showcased on this, the tailor made week for her to shine. Adam, for all his glow, is not a rocker kid. He is a theater drama queen. Kris is a café rocker/folkie type and Gokey is whatever it is that Jesus-y, choir directors who aren’t flaming (a surprisingly small subset) are. Allison is the only true rocker in the bunch. This performance should’ve been her Mad World. And this week should’ve been the week that she threw salt in Adam’s game and made people think that maybe, just maybe, she had a shot at taking the crown. Instead, we got her aping Janis and mouthing off to the judges (which was admittedly cute and made her seem not like a moron in real life for a hot second) but that ain’t gonna get her to the confetti shower. It was a solid performance but a huge missed opportunity.
Sympathy for the Devil
Frikkin’ Gokey/Dream On (Aerosmith) – And no, kittens, I don’t have any. Well, maybe I have a little, but not much. I actually thought Gokey might be able to make something out of this song. The first part was not bad at all. Subdued and understated, for him. He was on pitch and seemed to be connected with the band and where they were taking the song. And he still looked hot, despite the fact that he clearly sprinted over from his side job as a waiter at the local bistro. And then came the “doo doo doos” into the chorus, which I might have even been able to overlook, because up until then he was letting that beautiful voice really do what it do. But then, darlings. Oh, then. What that boy done to the end of this gorgeous song was not right. Like all right minded people, I hate what Aerosmith became once they entered the 00’s and got swallowed whole by the Diane Warren Adult Contemporary Music Industrial Complex. But early Aerosmith kicks tremendous amounts of ass. And Dream On will forever be a classic, even though the string section acoustic MTV unplugged VMA version signaled the beginning of the end for this group. What I loved about this performance was that in the intro clip, you can totally see Slash realizing what a clusterfuck this is going to be and loving it. Slash hates Gokey. The producers who ran the hideous "three or four notes going on in there" (Props to the Dawg again! He was on fire last night, kiddies) as the recap clip hate Gokey. Won’t you hate Gokey, too?
DUETS
What a Shame
Kris & FG/Renegade (Styx) – Awkward. Kris haaaaates Gokey. As all right minded people do. (See above) They didn’t sound terrible together. They harmonized very well, which was something of a small miracle given that it looked like Kris wanted to see how far he could shove that mic stand up FG’s rectum. And Simon had a moment of clarity when he declared that FG outsang Kris, which was bound to happen as the gruff timbre of Gokey’s voice is a hundered times more well suited to a song like this, and to rock in general, than Kris’ style and voice, which is admittedly light as a feather. (And that’s another reason why the judges critiques of Frikkin’ Gokey were just ludicrous. FG may not like rock, but his voice with that raspy thing he’s got going is tailor made for it, so the whole notion that rock is somehow not his thing is complete and utter bullshit, noodles. I need a shovel) In fact, it was right here during this performance when I realized that someone I actually liked was going home tonight. Gokey sounded amazing, even though the performance didn’t really work on any level.
We Love You
Adam & Allison/Slow Ride (Foghat) – Adam’s pants were the tightest things I have ever seen. How did he even get them on, noodles? And who was the lucky, lucky crack whore in wardrobe who got to serve as his dresser last night? Because damn. Just damn. And Allison continued to look adorable and at her flat ironed best. And the two of them together? Well, I’ll just quote Ryan, “Soooooo cute.” Once again, I wouldn’t have chosen this song for them, which is just a variation on a theme from last night, kittens. And in the end it didn’t matter. They were glorious and clearly having enough fun for everyone in the studio. And I believe they caused Simon and Paula to start making out at the judges table, but I’ll have to check the tape on that one. Good way to close on a high note.
So now we await the loss of either Allison or Kris. Like Simon, I think enough of the Lambert-ian glow might have rubbed off on Allison to actually save her, which would be tragic since Kris, in his quiet way, was the best of the night. The AI gods are fickle and came up with this theme just to torture me with the original flavor tool, Daughtry, on results show night. But we also get a Paula “performance” complete with her “singing” her new single which should be almost as awe inspiring as last season’s premier of the Dance Like There’s No Tomorrow video (an underrated classic, btw). I thought about commenting on the whole Judge #4/Aerosmith debacle, but I don’t even have the energy anymore. Only a few more weeks until I get my SYTYCD back and a level of informed judgery (even when I disagree) the likes of which has never been experienced on this Idol stage. And maybe Steven Tyler will run into Judge #4 on the street during the off season and strangle her with a long, gaily colored scarf. Dream on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
