Last night, the contestants performed a series of Elvis classics because they wanted us to know, in case there was any doubt, that although they’re certainly more interesting than watching paint dry, they’re far less interesting than inhaling the fumes of said paint. Because at least, in that case, you might hallucinate a unicorn or a magical fairy. In reality, we just got Adam Lambert. Close enough? Maybe. This is American Idol. “Darling, I can tell you now…your father went through life with an open fly.”
Because the judges used the ‘Judges Save’ last week on Big Mike (their rationale being that America hadn’t suffered enough this season), we’re losing two contestants tonight. Two is now my favorite number.
Group Sing. Elvis Medley. If anybody complains, ever again, about the “bad” lip-syncing on Glee, then they need to sit their ass down and watch this hot mess of a performance. It’s like the end of Singin’ in the Rain when Lina Lamont is on stage mouthing Debbie Reynolds’ voice, but then Donald O’Conner starts singing and Lina doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, and everybody laughs at her because she looks like an absolute moron. (Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen the film, which is older than Jesus.) Thing is, here, the Idols are lip-syncing to their own pre-recorded voices, so…shouldn’t they have a vague clue?
Crystal sleepwalks through “Burnin’ Love.” Katie’s burnin’ love appears to be in her lady parts, judging from her rapid-thigh movement. Tim Urban wants to be our teddy bear, as Siobhan almost throws out her hip. She’s like the Fantastic Four when they got zapped with that Skrull ray and got really old in, like, two issues. Except without the “fantastic” part. Andrew is literally trying to make me punch him in the face. Big Mike’s body appears to be made entirely out of over-filled water balloons. Dweezil is singing just like Michael Bublé, a concept which tickles me to death. Aaron continues to be adorable. After he gets booted, we should all take turns adopting him. If this doesn’t end soon, I think Crystal may very well kill herself on live TV. The shame, people. The shame of it all. By the time “Return to Sender” kicks in, Casey has the munchies. Get my meaning?
Ford Ad. The Idols drive around in their vehicles, which rapidly disintegrate into dirt, and then grow weeds. Weeds, huh? I think Casey had a hand in this one. The weeds then turn into trees, which overtake the city. The message: if you buy a Ford car it will turn to dust and create a green apocalypse. Then Casey will smoke it.
Casey, Aaron, and Andrew, are made to stand on stage. Casey sang “Lawdy Miss Clawdy,” but the judges are over him. Aaron sang “Blue Suede Shoes” and we all videotaped it, then showed it to our grandmothers. Andrew sang “Hound Dog” and remained clueless at his own lack of talent. America, however, got that clue (finally). Andrew is toast! Now he can go back to being in that gang he was never in.
Hey viewers, next week is “Idol Gives Back,” and to get everyone jazzed about that, here’s some footage of starving African children and Eliot Yamin, looking like a Brillo pad with eyes. Thanks, Seacrest, can’t wait!
Performance. Brooke White, who was on this show for awhile, last year or the year before, maybe, sings a song with Justin Gaston, most famous for posing in his underwear, like, everywhere, and dating Miley Cyrus. It’s wonderfully fast-forwardable, and on that basis, I recommend it!
Everybody lines up for the death squad. Dweezil sang “A Little Less Conversation,” because the theme tune to Malcolm in the Middle wasn’t an option. Siobhan sang “Suspicious Minds,” suspiciously like the 47-year-old version of her own self. Katie Stevens…yep…there she is. Big Mike sang “In the Ghetto,” because you can’t make that kinda shit up. Crystal sang “Saved” but not by the bell and without Screech. Adam Lambert will cover the screech in a minute. Tim Urban sang “Can’t Help Falling in Love” and was not officially awful. Or something.
Crystal is safe. Siobhan is safe. Dweezil is safe.
Ringing in the Bottom Three are Tim, Mike, and Katie. Let all ponder the possibilities, shall we?
Performance. Delta Burke ran into Lea DeLaria at high speed and Adam Lambert is the part that fell off. He keeps asking “What do you want from me?” Five thousand times or more. It might be the name of the song, but it might not. Lord, there are many degrees of which I do not enjoy the sound of his voice. Laser beams up the wazoo. So much smoke on stage. It’s like the back of the Mystery Machine after Shaggy has been “relaxing.” People actually listen to this? They sing along to this? Can that even be done without ripping out your own fingernails with a pair of pliers? Ack!
Tim is safe — because this boy is gonna win the season and the joke will be on everybody but me and him.
Big Mike and Katie are left standing. Then Seacrest owns up to the show’s lie that one of them wasn’t even in the official, by-the-numbers, Bottom Three this week. That’s kinda bullshitty, but some folks think it’s been like that every week from Year One, so what do I know? Well, I know that Katie is going the fuck home, and if I had the time — and a float — I’d throw a parade right now, because wow, they were really trying to Taylor Hicks her into the finals, weren’t they?
And Katie. Is. Gone.
Next week: songs of inspiration, tales of desperation, pics of starvation. I need a vacation.
“Idol Gives Back” is coming. And it knows what scares you.