American Idol: Tuesday Recap (4/25)
Love songs in the key of “suck.”
by Frank PittareseLast week on American Idol, the final 7 were broken into two groups of three: the non-sexual “tops” and “bottoms,” with Taylor Hicks left in the pre-commercial predicament of having to choose to stand with whatever group he thought was safe from elimination. After the break, Taylor strutted over to Chris Daughtry’s group (which included Paris and Ace), smugly shook Chris’s hand, and then stood alongside the group containing Kat, Elliott and Kellie. Taylor chose well—and of the Bottom Three, Ace was sent packin’.
Since then it’s been revealed by Access Hollywood that during the commercial break, executive producer Nigel Lythgoe—who knew which group was the bottom three (although not who would be eliminated)—instructed Taylor to fake-out/handshake Chris before taking his place with the safe group. Of course, this only serves to bolster Taylor as a “character,” and a move which seemed spontaneous and funny turns out to be a mask covering the true face of this show—which is that it’s manipulative and scripted. The winning votes go beyond singing talent, and they’re more than a mere popularity contest. From the get-go, they’re “directed” in subtle ways by the producers. Don’t get me wrong, I love this show—but if you’re gonna watch it, you’ve gotta keep your eyes open and your wits about you. Because if they can flim-flam you, they will.
Tonight, Sharp-Dressed Seacrest greets us as usual, from amidst the audience. See? Ryan’s cool. He’s standing amongst the common folk! The beard is thankfully gone, and he’s here to tell us that we’re live and shit.
Post-credits, he takes the stage and introduces the judges. Some auburn-haired girl waves at the camera. I think she’s an ex-contestant from before we reached Final 12. Foolish girl was lucky to get out alive, and now she’s back. This week, all the Idols get two phone numbers, “so there’s no excuse for not voting.” Except maybe not caring? I’m just sayin’. “It’s time for some mood-lighting, maybe some scented candles, as the final six set out to seduce you to classic love songs.” If Taylor Hicks ever tries to seduce me, I’ll kick him in the ’nads.
Assisting the kids with their assault on romance is Andrea Boccelli, the famous weird-looking blind opera dude. Also assisting, and sprung on us like a magic trick from hell, is producer, songwriter, and high-riding bitch David Foster. I remember him from another reality show—Making the Band, I think—and his own short-lived series featuring his rich and lazy step-sons. He’s a meanie.
A clip package introduces us to both men. “If God has a singing voice,” Celine Dion says, “It must sound a lot like Andrea Bocelli.” And if God has a questionable skin growth, it must look a lot like Celine Dion. Andrea is an international superstar that no one watching this show has ever heard of. He’s one of the most successful classical artists of all time, bridging the gap between classical and pop. David Foster produced Andrea’s recent album, Amore, which features duets with Stevie Wonder and Christina Aguilera. David Foster has written hits like Chaka Khan’s ‘Through the Fire’ and Whitney Houston’s ‘Lite My Pipe.’ (Okay, it’s really ‘I Have Nothing.’) He’s won 14 Grammy Awards. Also, he dresses like Sonny Crockett.
The Top 6 Idolers meet the guys. Andrea operas something that sounds like “Me Monkeeey…” which, even if it was about a monkey, wouldn’t be as good as James Kochalka’s ‘Hockey Monkey’ (go, download, and listen). Then he has the kids do that “Ah-ah-ah-ahhh-ah-ah-ahhh…” voice training thing. They sound like zombies, hungry for Italian brains.
Foster camera-bitches. “If you can’t cut it in my studio, you’re gone. Period.” And if you take this show at all seriously, Butch, you shouldn’t pimp yourself on it. “If you can’t bring something new to the table, you’re gonna die in the real world.”
Andrea says, “You become great only if it’s your destiny.” Or, as George McFly would say, your density.
“Oh, really?” Foster says, as if Andrea is a dimwit. And I’ll tell you now, even though Andrea is the headliner here, Foster is gonna All About Eve him all over tonight’s episode. The proverbial bumpy ride is brought to you by his driving skills.
Katharine McPhee opens the night. She’ll be singing the aforementioned ‘I Have Nothing,’ recorded by Miss Whitney “White Lines” Houston and written by Foster. She rehearses piano-side, and Foster directs. He thinks Kat has a great, great future. When Andrea compliments her voice, Foster asks if he thinks Kat can sing opera. Spontaneously (or seemingly so), Kat just breaks out into some opera song and then Andrea joins her in a duet. It’s crazy, and just underscores how freakin’ awesome Katharine is.
She takes the stage looking like its Oscar night, in a sexy yellow dress that’s 90% cleavage. Tonight’s second set of phone numbers must be for her boobs. Katharine’s voice is terrific, and you can hear the audience applauding under her singing. She marches back and forth during the angry part of the song, unintentionally flashing some panty as her skirt parts company with her leg. As for the song, I can’t understand about half of it, whether Kat or Whitney is singing. Sounds like gibberish. But vocally, aside from a couple of weak runs…wow. Kat’s dad weeps in his seat, as usual. The audience goes bananas. Olympic figure skater Sasha Cohen stands and applauds with the crowd.
Judges. Randy: “I honestly think, just keepin’ it real, it was way too big for you.” It didn’t come close to Whitney. Paula’s mic was off, so it’s difficult to hear her, but essentially she feels there were pitch problems, it’s a tough song to sing, but Kat is a star. Simon: “By choosing that song, it is like coming out here and saying ‘I am as good as Whitney Houston.’ You’re not.” I generally agree with Simon, but not here.
Elliott Yamine, fresh from Seacrest’s closet, is looking kinda cute in a dark pinstriped suit. He gets the first of tonight’s Coca-Cola interview segments, where he informs us he’ll be singing Donnie Hathaway’s ‘A Song for You.’ He wants to honor Hathaway’s music and bring it “back to the forefront.” Elliott tells us that one of the show’s backup singers, Kenya, is one of Hathaway’s daughters. Then we cut to his rehearsal clips.
Elliott sings piano-side, and Foster directs him to “deliver it.” Elliott wasn’t getting the changes that Foster wanted to make, so that took a few takes. When Elliott does get it, Foster points at him, “Yes!!” Andrea ain’t got much to say here.
This is a stand-and-sing performance, which is pretty much the status quo for the evening. Elliott sounds okay vocally, but the arrangment…I dunno. I’m familiar with the Carpenters version of this song, and that arrangement is so simple and straightforward that it immediate evokes a melancholy mood, and Karen Carpenter’s voice, of course, was a beautiful thing. Elliott’s—or rather, Foster’s—arrangement is all over the place. In an attempt to modernize the song, it’s become needlessly complicated, with notes running everywhere. Elliott has a wonderful voice, but it lacks the compelling presence of Karen Carpenter’s, so it ends up feels like Elliott is lost and struggling to find his way through the song. Also, he keeps singing “a song to you,” (instead of “for you”) which isn’t the point of the lyric and which irritates me. I loves me some E-Double-L, but this wasn’t happening for me. Ex-Saturday Night Live guy Kevin Nealon, though, gives it a thumbs up from the audience.
Judges. Randy: “I hated…did not like the arrangement. The arrangement was way too confusing…but, I love you…you were the bomb tonight!” Paula…oh…my…God. She’s crying. No, not crying. Weeping. There are tears streaming from her eyes and a very thin runner of clear snot dripping from her right nostril. She loses her shit on national TV. “You move me…you’ve moved me from the beginning. You are this handsome, evolved performer…you are an American Idol. You are!” Simon, head down, is seriously cracking up. Seacrest accuses him of laughing, which he absolutely is, but he denies it. Simon: “Tonight…that was like a vocal masterclass. It was superb.”
Kellie Pickler grabs the second Coke-interview tonight. Seacrest wants to know if she’s dedicating her love song to anybody special. She thanks him for reminding her that she doesn’t have a boyfriend. She tells us she’ll be singing ‘Unchained Melody,’ which was heard in the movie Ghost. “Remember that pottery scene? I don’t have anybody to play pottery with.” No Kellie, but if you ever want to play a game of “Shut the Hell Up,” give me a call.
In her clip package, Kellie tells us she’s “doing the LeAnn Rimes twist” on the song. Andrea says it’s a beautiful song, “sweet like [Kellie’s] voice.” Foster pushes Kellie to go for the high falsetto at the end of the song, Righteous Brothers-style. At home, Ace Young stamps his feet through the ground, like a greasy Rumplestilskin. “She stole my false!!” Foster says of the song, “If it’s sung without passion, it can be one of the most boring songs on the planet.” I agree, minus the “without passion” part. Foster asks the little-seen Andrea what color hair Kellie has. What?!? Andrea, without missing a beat, says “blonde,” which is probably more a statement about Kellie’s state of mind than her actual hair color. They both laugh like schoolboys, so I guess it’s okay to ask the blind guy about color.
Kellie sits on the stage stairs, singing this boring song, boringly. It’s an exercise in listlessness. It induces narcolepsy. Comas happen. Even Kellie looks bored. Her voice is just there…bland and blah. When she gets to that big falsetto at the end (“I neeeeed your love…”), she goes completely dead in the eyes. There’s nothing there, and she’s looking directly into the camera, vapid and emotionless, which just compounds things. She ends the song in the lower part of her range and it’s just too low for her. Terrible. Polite applause follows, but Sela Ward, most recently of House, seems to have been completely entranced. Dull attracts dull, I suppose.
Judges. Randy: “There were pitch problems…the only thing that was good was the high note…it was just very strange, this one.” Paula, very seriously: “Oh boy. I don’t see you raising the bar each week…at this point it is about greatness, and I don’t feel that from you.” The audience is deadly silent, and it’s times like this when you know they agree. She’s so going home tomorrow. Simon: “I think that deserves tears but for a very different reason…I thought it was like the never-ending song…it was so monotonous and so bland, you were like a robot in that perfomance.” The ‘wrap-it-up’ music cue cuts Simon off, and he’s a little pissed, but, yo, live TV. Deal with it.
Paris Bennett will be singing ‘The Way We Were,’ a song which always depressed me as a child. Then, as an adult, I saw the movie. Now it depresses me even more. She chose this song because she’s only seventeen and the evening’s theme proved difficult. “I have memories—I don’t have love thoughts.” Wow. At seventeen I’d at least been through a couple of teacher-crushes and a dozen of TV-star crushes. Poor Paris. She’s never even had a Shaun Cassidy in her life. Foster instructs her to sing the first eight bars of the song softer—because Paris, aside from loving to play dress-up, is a belter. Andrea says, “[Paris] has an extraordinary voice. She has an instrument, absolutely incredible. Spectacular.”
On stage, Paris is wearing the Gladys Knight hair-do, last seen when she sang ‘Midnight Train to Georgia,’ back in the day. She sounds okay. A little breathy, and I don’t think she’s feeling the song so much as just singing it. Her emphasis is a little bit off in places. It feels a bit rushed. Her voice builds nicely at the end, though, so Foster’s suggestion to start softly was a good one. Joely Fisher, most recently appearing on Desperate Housewives as Felicity Huffman’s boss, seems to agree.
Judges. Randy: “I wasn’t over-the-top about it, but I liked it.” Paula: “I felt like you oversang the song a little bit, but overall, best female vocal tonight.” Which…crapcakes. Kat was much, much better. Simon: “Very good vocal, bit old-fashioned for my tastes, it sounded a bit like you were trying to impersonate an older artist, now I’m finished. Off you go, Ryan!” See, he is in a snit!
Seacrest welcomes us back from commerical standing behind the judges. When he rests a hand on the back of Paula’s chair, Simon plops his arm down on it. It’s very cute because they’re so in lurve. Seacrest: “You’re a child, you know that?” Simon grins. Awww. Widdle Simon’s all better now.
Taylor Hicks, in his clip, offers this insightful excerpt from his 4th grade American Idol report: “I enjoyed meeting Andrea Boccelli and David Foster. Both very, very talented people in the music business.” He goes on, “I have a dog named Rooster. He licks my face. And his own butt sometimes. When I grow up I want to be a fire engine or a Sasquatch.”
He’ll be singing ‘Just Once.’ Andrea says that Taylor is “a good singer. He has a very beautiful instrument. He is very [pause] interesting.” Foster says the song is the star, not this gray-haired monstrosity, and directs Taylor not to suck completely. Failure!
You’d think this song would suit Taylor, but he starts off and it’s just by-the-numbers singing. There’s no personality, no life. His voice is flat in places, and then he growls because that’s what James Ingram did on the record. He looks into the camera and waves his arms like a Frankenstein. It’s a whole lot of ‘whatever’, sprinkled with a bit of ‘who cares’, though in the audience, Tori Spelling seems to care…a little bit…because the camera is up in her grill.
Judges. Randy: “That song was completely the wrong song for me, for you.” (I love it when he says that.) “I didn’t get it. It wasn’t half as good as the original. Felt like weird karaoke to me.” Paula: “It wasn’t my favorite song. You look handsome as heck.” Simon compares Taylor’s performance to a hotel lounge act, and adds, “It was not a winning performance.” Then Paula loses it. She stands up, holds Simon’s hand down, and starts waving her free arm in the air. She points at Taylor. “We love you! We love you!” Paula is a living Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel. You never know what’s gonna happen when you turn the page, and sometimes, it’s damn scary.
Chris Daughtry wraps up the evening’s performances. He’ll be singing ‘Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman’ by Bryan Adams. Okay, I’ve gotta say something here. I love Bryan Adams. I’ve seen him in concert three times, as early as the Reckless tour in 1985. I was a member of his fan club, for cryin’ out loud (shut up). Love him. This song, though? It must be one of the worst songs written in the history of mankind, sitting right alongside ‘Who Let the Dogs Out.’ The music is awful, the lyrics are gut-wrenching. It’s just a hopelessly bad song. If Chris felt compelled to choose a song from the Adams catalogue, ‘Heaven’ would have suited him perfectly. Or even ‘Straight From the Heart.’
During rehearsal, Foster tells Chris that while making their album, Andrea recorded one of his songs laying down. Andrea demonstrates this, opera-singing on the ground. Then Chris awkwardly lays on the floor and sings. He sounds fine. They act like this is an astounding feat. Is it? I guess you have to worry about being trod on, but beyond that, I can’t imagine it takes much skill. Later, I’ll lay down and try it. I’ll sing something from Rent and hope not to inhale any dust bunnies.
Chris is on stage bookended by two old men playing guitars. We get close-ups of them strumming and it’s all very typical of the efforts made to make Chris’s songs “performances.” If it’s not light shows, it’s the smoke machine. If it’s not the smoke machine, it’s this. Chris is in good voice. The only positive thing I can say about this song is that it forces Chris to maintain vocal control. He can’t howl and carry on, as I’m sure he’d like. The crowd screams with glee as Chris ends his song, and Seacrest suddenly appears out of nowhere, like a big gay Endora. Or a gayer one. Guess time is short.
Judges. Randy: “Amazing. Amazing. Love the jacket, love you, amazing!” Paula (standing up and waving her arms and bouncing like a crazy person): “Love you! We all love you! Love you, love you! Love! You!” Simon: “That was a very, very good choice of song. A great performance. Very sexy song.” I’ll concede that Chris is hot, but this song is sexy like a Taco Bell commercial.
Seacrest speed-speaks Chris’s numbers before we cut to the recap clips of tonight’s performances. Somebody’s mic is still on, and you can hear mumbled bits of conversation, but nothing juicy. Tomorrow, results and Andrea Boccelli performs (if David Foster lets him get a word in edgewise).
Now that we’re down to six players, I don’t know if there’s still a Bottom Three (it might just be cut back to two). Regardless, here are my picks for the B-Three: Katharine, because she sang too early in the night, making her the most forgettable, and the judges kiboshed her performance. Taylor, because they’ll want to throw some fear into him this week (he’ll get sent back to chairs immediately). And Kellie because enough, enough, enough! If there’s any sanity left in the world, Kellie will go home.
Be here tomorrow when 6 become 5…
