Thursday, March 17, 2011

Week Two

The horror! The horror!

OK, Listen up, American Idol contestants: The themes you are given every week are not designed to be “fun” or “entertaining” to the audience (or, God forbid, you): they are designed to ruthlessly cull the herd.

Picking a Billboard hit from the year of your birth is not an accidental trip to sheer hell (OK; it is) just for the tanning potential. We all know how old you are: we know that this means we will be listening to the morass of crap from circa 1990, shite that you were too young to have stepped in. If this was about the music, the theme would be a Billboard hit from the year your parents were born. If it was actually a vocal competition, it would be Billboard hits from the year your grandparents were born.

That being said, whoever sings anything by Taylor Dayne or Whitney Houston ought to be subject to immediate dismissal via trapdoor: step on that bitch and down you go. Sadly, the show’s female contingent is once again running as fast as their 5-inch heels can take them to the giant EXIT sign by mistaking this ho-down (oops!) for a talent show. It’s not: it’s an audition, every week.

Which brings us to the judges. This is a misnomer: they are not judging you. They are providing on-the-spot vocal bites to play back come Slasher Thursday.  Randy is offering more lucid comments than he has in YEARS; he has to; the bar has been raised. J-Lo actually provides useful feedback from the experience of a seasoned performer. Steven Tyler spits words of wisdom like pumpkin seeds.

I like the way the judges give advice for what they would like to see in the future as opposed to commenting on what the hapless kids just sang. It softens the blow. Still, it would be good if any of them had the cajones to tell it like it is when one of them bombs: at least Simon did that. 

Last night's performances? Every single one of them made me want to stab phillips head screwdrivers into my ears. Jacob put so much grease on his Heart vocal he slipped off the rails. Casey dared to dream he could touch the hem of Kurt’s mangy cardigan and couldn’t. quite. grasp. it. But at least they tried. I have a horrible sinking feeling that Pia will end up a default winner simply because she looks the part. 

It will come down to who folks hate the most and the answer is the girl with the dreadlocks who went first. Over and Out. 

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