American Idol 1/23/07 Memphis Auditions

Burning Love is the First Sign of Infection

by Frank Pittarese

It's an hour-long episode tonight, so no time is wasted. We hit the ground running with opening titles. Poor Seacrest doesn't get to do his "This is American Idol" bit, and the nation sheds a tear.

Seacrest informs us that Memphis has a population of 650,000 and is a bustling Metropolis...usually. We're shown shots of empty streets, not a soul in sight. Beale Street, the busiest in town, day or night, is vacant. This looks just like the beginning of Day of the Dead. Oooh, maybe the zombies came!! Actually, that's not too far from the truth. All the zombies are at Idol auditions, although I still don't see anyone over thirty in the crowd, so maybe they got eaten.

The potential Idols all mug for the camera, waving and "wooing" and dancing and looking like idiots. Then they enter the stadium, eager to be humilated on national TV. First among them is Frank Byers, 21. He both cheers and coaches a cheerleading team at Southern Arkansas University, and it looks like he brought them along for support. He seems like a nice guy who has his shit together, but as the first audition of the show, he's gotta suck.

Frank tells the judges that his nickname is "Frank and Beans," but rolls his eyes after he says it, which immediately earns him points from me. He believes in his heart that he can win, and breaks into Heard It Through the Grapevine, loudly, with quite a bit of arm waving. At a casual listen, he doesn't sound bad...at least not relative to this show. You can tell he's nervous, but the general tone of his voice is okay. He shouldn't get through, by any means, but if he got up at karaoke, nobody would leave the bar on his account.

Simon hates it. "It was corny, over the top, hotelly..." Frank interrupts him with Unchain My Heart, because interrupting Simon always works. Simon cuts him off. Randy says no. Paula says he's a little over the top. "Maybe next year," she says.

He exits judging and his cheerleading squad bursts into a spirit-boosting cheer, accompanied by a marching band. A couple of guys hoist Seacrest into the air, holding him by his little Ken doll feet. An annoyed Simon gets up, sticks his head out into the hall, and says, "Not being rude, but can you shut up." I love the way he prefaces everything with "Not being rude," and then proceeds to be rude. I've gotta try that in life.

Seacrest sticks his head back into the judging room. "Someone's a bit of a bitch today," he Muppets. Fox bleeps out the word "bitch," despite the fact that, in this very same time slot in the last two weeks, we've seen Jack Bauer rip out a man's throat with his teeth, and watched a one-handed pedophile named T-Bag hold a woman and two young children hostage. But Fox will protect our virgin ears tonight by bleeping out the word "bitch." Classy.

Next up, Timika Sims, 16. Timika needs to wear a "vacancy" sign over her head, because it's pretty clear, ain't nobody there. Her giant eyes stare into space, glassy and artificial-looking. But what Timika lacks in personality...leaves her with nothing much. She removes the gum from her mouth and tells Simon she's there to be the next American Idol.

"I think I can be a (Myer)," Timika says. At least it sounds like "Myer."

"A model?" asks Simon.

"A Myer!" says Timika. And that's exactly what she's saying.

"A mayor?"

"A Myer, sir."

This goes on for a while, a "Who's On First" for the new millenium, and I'm with Simon. I don't know what this girl is talking about. But Randy explains that she's saying "Mya." Mya is an R&B artist, of whom I am unfamiliar, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't need to look over her shoulder for Timika.

Timika will grace our ears with Ashanti's Rock Wit U. As Paula said, regarding an auditioneer many seasons ago, Timika's "all nasally up in her nasal" as she mushmouths through the song. Simon couldn't understand a word of it. She begs to sing another song, and takes an uninvited crack at Secret Lover. No, no, and no from the judges, and out she goes.

Next is a boy named Chris Rivera, 18, with an unfortunate head of shaggy hair. It's like he has hat-head, but on purpose. He energetically sings Stevie Wonder's Superstition like he's herding cattle, peppering the vocals with the random "heeya!" His voice trembles like he's riding a horse. Chris is genuinely surprised when he doesn't make it.

Enter Alexis Partee, 20, with a giant mouth full of giant braces. She'll sing Square Biz by Teena Marie. Wow, obscurity much? That song is from 1981! Was it even released as a single? Alexis is high-pitched, off-key, and well incomprehensible. So that'll be a no to Hollywood, Alexis. Come back next year and try something more contemporary. I suggest I Still Believe by Brenda K. Starr.

Now we're introduced to Jason "Sundance" Head, whose clip package foreshadows the fact that he'll make it through to the next round. He's a great big guy, with a jolly smile (not that I'm saying all fat people are jolly, some of 'em are total pricks), and a goatee that needs some serious trimming. Sundance's father was Roy Head, who had a hit in the '60s called Treat Her Right (great song!). He would have had a wonderful career had the Beatles' Yesterday not bumped him off the charts. Damn those Beatles and their mania!

He enters judging, sweaty and, to be honest, a little schlubby-looking. I don't think the judges are prepared to take him seriously. Unlike us, they haven't seen his clip package. Sundance sings Stormy Monday by Bobby Blue Bland. Five seconds into it, and he has Final 12 written all over him. His voice is powerful and soulful. The judges love it. "You blew it out," Randy says. "Hundred million percent 'yes' (to Hollywood)," he adds. Hollywood it is.

Post-commercials, it's Wandera Hitchye, 23. This audition pissed me off. First up, Wandera is a little odd-looking, but not beyond repair. A bright red mullet, with a flip, makes an event of her head. She's wearing bright green contacts and has made some queer makeup choices, but they've dealt with bigger fashion disasters on this show. She sings A Change Is Gonna Come with a bluesy, soulful voice. Objectively, there's no reason not to send her to Hollywood. But for whatever reason, the judges reject her. She's not unique enough. She's a good singer, but nothing that makes her "next level" as Randy puts it. I can point my finger in any direction at any season of this show and it'll land on one of those types: Ryan Starr, Kimberly Caldwell, Jasmine Trias, Anthony Federov, Ace Young. That's one from each season. All Final 12-ers, all average, none winners, but none voted out in the first weeks of their seasons. There's no reason not to send this girl to the next round. Just give her a shot. But they don't, and Wandera leaves in tears. Onward...

This is followed by a rejection montage set to Elvis's Don't Be Cruel. When the wheel stops spinning, it lands on the bespectacled Travis McKinney, 22. He tells us that he wrote the song he'll perform, and that it's about his girlfriend. Also, it will be an emotional experience for all involved. What follows is beat poetry. Spoken word. Lots of hand-gestures. Travis gets the big no, three times, and, of course, he doesn't understand what he did wrong. I think not actually singing would be a good place to start, Trav.

Local girl Danielle McCulloch, 18, is up next. She's a pretty blonde thing (who, in fairness, looks like she cut her own hair in a fit of rage). Unless she has a voice like a killer whale, she's going through. Let's see, shall we? Danielle will sing Aretha Franklin's Baby I Love You. Her voice is okay, but she's over-performing, gesturing needlessly, and sexing it up like a wannabe Shania Twain. Randy, surprisingly (and aptly), says no. "I think you'll be gone, like, first day, first minute." But the other two outvote him, and Danielle is through to Hollywood, while Wandera, who vocally, to me, was of equal, if not better, value, is out on the street. Blech.

Thus ends Day One in Memphis, but post-commercial, we're back in action with Topher McCain, 28, a man-mountain with Harry Potter face. He's "stoked" to meet Paula because she's hot, and sob stories that he recently split with his wife, but when he becomes the next American Idol, she'll want him back. Isn't that always the way?

Topher sure starts off on the right foot. When Simon says, referring to his notes, "It says here that your wife left you." Topher responds, "Because she's a bitch." Um...Topher, those big metal things pointing at you? They're called cameras. He flirts with Paula--it's brief, but still gross--then performs Footloose. It's tuneless and boring and I've had enough of him already, but the producers are determined to do me harm. Topher wiggles and jiggles listlessly to the music that's playing in his head, as Paula sings backup under her breath. Don't encourage him, Abdul. This is how stalkers get made.

Simon says it was like watching a drunk guy get up and sing at a wedding, but compliments Topher on calling his wife a bitch on national TV. Topher and Co. leave the building, as he declares that Paula was great looking--but that's it.

Oh boy, here comes trouble. Walking down the street in sunglasses and backed up by an entourage is Janita Burks, 20. I'm going to let young Janita speak for herself. "My style is very important. It has to be...it works in with my confidentiality. It boostus my confidence in many, many ways. I believe in dressing sexy...but not too over-the-top." Then she goes on to say that "the judges first impression of me will probably be innocent, well-put together, really neat, conservative, and very sexy. Very sexy." It's here that I'll note that Janita is wearing a black halter top with a vastly plunging neckline that's probably a size or two too small for her. In other words, her business is on the street.

She auditions with Disco Inferno, a fine showcase for one's vocal talents, and as she sings and dances ferociously, her breasts desperately try to escape the room. Paula makes the "cover your shit up" gesture by pulling on her own top, and Janita does, but her boobs want no part of this show, and keep trying to flee. Simon describes Janita as "a handful," and calls her audition "odd." She asks to sing something else, and they allow it, but after several failed starts, Janita gets the boot.

Next up, is Sean Michel, 27. Shawn looks like Fidel Castro got into that machine from The Fly and was merged with Charles Manson. He has a long, long beard and longer hippie hair, and he's dressed in a military cap and shirt. Interestingly enough, it looks like there's a cute face under there, so if he makes it to F12, hopefully, they'll clean him up. He sings God's Gonna Cut You Down, by Johnny Cash. The song caught me off guard, it's really upbeat and catchy. I have no idea if that's how it supposed to sound or if Sean put his own spin on it. Also, Sean caught me off guard. He has a really nice, soulful voice (which is sort of a theme here in Memphis) and terrific energy, snapping his fingers and bouncing a leg to keep the beat of the song. Wonderful audition! The judges unanimously put him through, shocked at the sound of his voice.

Sean humbly thanks them and leaves. Later, in an interview clip, he holds his Hollywood Golden Ticket over his head in both hands, poses like Mary Catherine Gallagher, and says, "Superstar!" I dig this guy.

Melinda Doolittle, 28, is next. She's a professional background singer, who thinks it's time she stepped out of the background--and her comfort zone--to try and make it on her own. She's small, and cute as can be, in a smart hat and stylish vest. Totally endearing. But coming on the heels of Sean Michel, I expect her to suck. It's unlike this show to give us two good singers back-to-back. Luckily, I was wrong. Melinda sings For Once In My Life, scared to death, and she's fantastic. Simon says, "We have people who come in her with a lot of attitude, a lot of confidence, and they're not very good. You walk in with no confidence, no attitude, and yet you are a brilliant singer. A brilliant singer. Seriously." Melinda looks at him, somewhat stunned. He puts her through with a "one million percent yes" and the other judges agree. I think she's the first person I'm rooting for to be in the Final 12. Which is quite amazing when you consider that generally, I only root for cute blond boys with tracheotomy scars and moderate talent.

Random shots of Graceland take me back to last season, when the kids were given a tour of the place by the animatronic wax figure of Priscilla Presley. There's no sign of Mrs. P. tonight, and thankfully, no sign of an Elvis impersonator (or I'd have to leave the room). Instead, this all leads to Robert E. Holmes, 21. He tells us he sounds just like Elvis, and that he can sing "one rock-n-roll song, and that's Burning Love by Elvis Presley." He goes on, "I feel that I should be the next American Idol because I have an outstanding voice and I have an outstanding vocal." Yes, but does he have enough confidentiality to pull it off?

Robert, who sounds like Eddie Murphy doing Buckwheat, tells the judges that he sings, dances, acts and writes stories. Simon wants to know what kind of stories. "I write stories about the music of Robert." Ha!

"How does the current part end?" asks Simon.

"With a period." Robert deadpans. HA!!

The judges get a kick out of that one, then Robert fast-paces his rendition of Burning Love. He gets all the words right, but needs to work on that whole "sounds like Elvis" thing. He eagerly awaits a "yes" from the judges, but his face absolutely crumbles, in glorious close-up, when they triple-reject him.

Cue pre-judging fake montage of bad singers singing Burning Love badly. Of note, the girl with pink and purple hair, wearing eight jars of eye makeup, who says, "I'm having an anxiety attack all day. I forgot my medication." I'll say. Man, this is one crappy song--even when Elvis is singing it.

Last up for the night, Phil Stacy, 28. I'm immediately thrown off balance, because he has the same face as a friend of mine, also named Phil, but it's not him because mine is a gay man with hair, and this one is a straight, bald man. Still, I eye him with suspicion. If my friend's face is missing the next time I see him...

Anyway, TV-Phil comes from Florida, where he left his pregnant wife in labor to come audition for this fool show. Granted, he wasn't planning on the kid being born today, but it looks like the wife delivered a girl at four in the morning. Simon asks, "What's more important, getting through to Hollywood or the baby?"

"Sorry, man. The baby's more important to me." That'll fly here, but try that shit on The Janice Dickenson Modelling Agency and she'll cut you. Possibly with a knife.

Phil sings My Girl, and his first note is a disaster. Then...not bad. The more he sings, actually, the better he gets. They like him, but that shaky start isn't sitting well with anyone. So he takes a crack at Let's Get It On. Again, that first note is rough, but not as bad as the previous song. This triggers a brief debate, but it's pointless. Phil is through to Hollywood. As an epilogue, we see home video footage of Phil, his wife, with their daughter and newborn at the hospital. Very sweet.

Tomorrow night, it's two hours in my hometown, New York City. Watch for me, when I sing Love is a Battlefield before the judges, complete with booty-shaking hooker choreography from the video. Just kidding. I'm not in the show. I'm saving that particular audition for So You Think You Can Dance.

Over and out,
--Frank