"Idol" 2007, Part 1: Lions, soldiers, and assholes (lots of the latter)
By Eric Rezsnyak on Jan. 17th, 2007 at 9:11am 0 Comments
Since "American Idol" is not television programming, but rather a lifestyle choice, we're going to try something a little different during the initial auditions: liveblogging. Basically I'm just going to write down whatever I'm thinking about the episode as it happens. I've never done this before, so be gentle, dear readers.
And onward into the abyss...
We open by flashing back to that dreaded day last May. The 2006 Idol finale. Taylor Douchebag Hicks is on the stage. Why must I endure this again? He wins. Vomit. "Do I Make You Proud?" No, you make me barf, you fake-ass piece of crap.
Montage about all the wonderful things "Idol" has done for the music industry and how powerful a star-making machine it is. Pretty much everybody big gets a mention. Note: that Ruben and Fantasia kind of get the shaft, as does Clay Aiken. Guess his reign of terror is finally over. Don't worry, Clay. You'll always have Broadway. Just come out already. Like, seriously. Seacrest refers to "our" Jennifer Hudson, which is hilarious given the amount of crap she was served during her tenure in Season 3. Remember that girlfriend didn't even make it into the Top 12 on viewer votes; Randy rescued her from the pit of obscurity with his wild card slot, even going so far as to say it was "against all odds." And then: gospel jaw (Simon), comments about her weight (Simon), general indifference (viewers), allegations of racism (Elton John). She went out in, what, sixth place? Freaking John Stevens lasted longer. But she's "our" Jennifer Hudson now that she's a star. Classic. There's Chris Daughtry and Kellie Pickler. Hi, Kellie! Will someone please put her in that remake of "Hee-Haw" I keep dreaming about? Her and that pocket cowboy from last season would rock that shit....
As we arrive in Minneapolis, Minnesota (shudder) "Teenage Wasteland" plays. Well, that about sums it up. We get a brief clip of a faux cowgirl...climaxing, I guess. Seriously, she's writhing on stage. I think there might be a note in there somewhere, but this is guttural. ...This is how we're starting?
And our guest judge is JEWEL! Dammit! She cannot stop whoring her ass out. Sister had a good run in the '90s, but then she sold her soul to the devil for a Clairol commercial and has been scrambling save her career ever since. Does nobody find it a conflict of interest that she's also hosting the the country competitor to the show? I guess they don't care. Who really watches "Nashville Star"?
Our first sacrifical lamb. Her name is Jessica. She works as a beautician at the Mall of America. GREAT Minnesotan accent. This is so "Drop Dead Gorgeous," I am in heaven. (If you know not of what I speak, go rent the DVD now. You will not be sorry.) Girl is so incredibly fake when Seacrest "surprises" her with the information that her "idol" Jewel will be the guest judge today. Whatever. If Jewel is your idol, you've got bigger problems than fakeness. And one of them is your outfit. Flowy skirt with weird denim sections; whites that don't match. Yikes. And then she sings. "I Was Meant For You." Blech. Terrible nasal delivery, and she over-accentuates Jewel's weird vocal tics. This is not an homage, this is blatant aping, and a bad job of it to boot. Jewel, do not encourage this woman! She is now on the floor, on her knees, begging. This is what I hate about Idol. Get off my TV screen. Wailing sobs. WHY ARE YOU STILL ON MY TV?! She finally leaves the judging room and breaks the news to her gang. The overly tanned woman with the porcupine on her head knows she sucks. She knows. But she's saying nothing. Jessica says that she's not going to stop singing. Oh, the deluded.
Troy Benham, 24, is from Wisconsin. He says he's never seen Idol. And yet he's decided to stand in line for hours (days?) to try out for it. Shut up, Troy. You are full of it. I should pause here to describe Troy's look: Big brimmed hat, gross totally unkept beard. Dude is PASTY. He describes it as "Urban Amish." Is he actually Amish? I sincerely doubt that. He's just a fame whore. He performs a song --- is it self-written? I assume so --- about not shutting him down. He is an asshole, and he is terrible. The judges go back and forth with him forever. "I didn't say I was great, I didn't say I was the best, I didn't say I was the next American Idol." Then why are you on my TV? Oh, yes --- so you can be on my TV. I weep for the future.
Montage: string of terrible blondes and a dude with some Pantene Pro Beautiful locks. Ryan asks rhetorically if he's the next Constantine Maroulis. God, let's hope not. I'm just getting over the case of syphilis he gave me via TV transmission two years ago. Gross.
Jesse Holloway is next. Not terribly bright, a mumbler, terrible skin. He claims he has a "unique vocal range." Oh, christ. He decides to sing a song by Celine Dion. Of course he does. Breathy and flat and terrible. He claims that he's nervous and needs some water. They let him get some and come back. WHY ARE THEY CONTINUING TO LET HIM BE ON MY SCREEN? It's so, so pointless. They go into this give and take with this dude, and he is awful. And he is stupid. And he is wasting minutes of my life. And then when he finally, finally leaves the room he pulls out the asshole card: "They don't know what they're talking about." UGH.
Not a single talented person. We are 20 minutes in. The most entertaining part of this so far has been that every single person has tried to walk out the wrong door. Minnesota!
Monroe Moody, 26, from New York, is dressed as Apollo Creed. I guess. He's wearing an Uncle Sam robe and stars-and-stripes top hat and boxing glass. He's doing this for his nephews and nieces in foster care. The black gay men of this country need to band together and really stop this from happening. They are all over this show, and are doing a disservice to black gay men everywhere. His voice isn't terrible, but dude is singing opera on "American Idol." (Incidentally, I just noticed that Randy has gained back all the weight he lost. I feel you, Dawg.) "The fact that we're taking this seriously is actually disturbing," Simon says after it's over. SERIOUSLY, Simon. How is this entertaining?
Denise Jackson, 16, from Madison, Wisconsin describes herself as being an actual crack baby --- her mother was addicted to drugs when she was born. Cue twinkly sad music. But Denise says she feels blessed, since god gave her a voice. And oddly enough, she is not deranged. She sings "You're Gonna Love Me" from Dramgirls. Ugh. She is very loud. But not bad. Definitely not bad. Hard-luck story in tow? Yeah, she's at least to Hollywood, decent shot at Top 32. Almost no chance at Top 12. She reminds me of Janay from two years ago. But sorry to say, I see absolutely no star quality.
34 minutes and one legitimate audition. Seacrest calls it "the curse of Minneapolis." I refer to it as, "Your own damned fault for going to freaking Minnesota."
A fake PSA for Forgetting Your Words Syndrome leads us to tie-bedecked Tashawn Moore from Minneapolis. She's "singing" Prince's "Kiss." WHY ARE YOU ON MY TV? Maybe a three-note range. Keeps saying "women no girls rule my world" over and over again. There is a full-on mental crack-up on TV. When will this show learn that mental illness is not funny? She's snapping, jostling about. She just keeps going, inventing words along the way. STOP THIS! PLEASE! THIS IS STUPID AND PAINFUL! She keeps saying "Yes" after every "No" from the judges because she just likes to hear the word "yes." Oh, girl.
A semi-hideous young woman asks Ryan Seacrest if he likes Spanish girls. BWAH HA HA! Her name is Perla Meneses, 25, originally from Columbia, lives in Florida. It's a sob story, baby. Her mouth is enormous. She's vaguely Shakira-ish. Terrible denim capris. She sings Blondie's "Call Me" and she is DEAD TO ME because she's slaughtering the song, singing with this bizarre accent. It isn't even Spanish. It sounds...Brooklyn? I don't know. Very Broadway. Sounds like she's 60. She screws up the lyrics. The judges are unimpressed, but because we have to fill two hours, ask her to sing some of "Hips Don't Lie." And...it doesn't suck at all, but is totally derivative of Shakira. Jewel says singing was in the middle. That is being kind. She gets through. I hope Debbie Harry takes the bitch out. Simon calls her "great fun." "Fun" apparently translates to "lots of screaming and mugging for the camera." Seriously, I hate her.
Cue lame-o cowboy in really goofy Safari hat and Garth Brooks shirt. Is he, like, 40? "I've got flair, I've got pizzaz. I'm so unique." He is tap-dancing on my last nerve. Matthew Volna, from Elk River, sings "Folsom Prison Blues" totally monotone. He knows the words, that's good. He is singularly awful. This is what choosing Taylor Hicks as the winner has done, America! This is what happens when you encourage losers!
Bad guy montage. Crazy man with impressions! Oh, I'm so glad I gave up my Tuesday night for this. COME ON, guys! A couple losers can be entertaining, but you've got to throw me a few bones here.
Bald Navy guy. The crew went out to the battleship USS Ronald Reagan to film this dude's bit? I'm embarrassed for everyone involved. The entire crew did an American Idol competittion on his battleship. He's "defending our freedom." Sure he is. Finally he sings Rascall Flats' "God Bless the Broken Road." He is screaming, and adds "H"s into everythying. He also looks constipated when he sings. Great future in Christian music for him. His name is Jared or something --- I missed his chyron because I was literally wincing. He has no chance of making it past Hollywood. Or, if he does, it is solely because of the soldier connection. And I'm really not cool with that.
More montages of badness: Stupid girl bobbing around to "Fever" (why do people always sing that song?) Big girl does "If I Was King of the Forest" like the Cowardly Lion. In truth, she kind of looks like Burt Larr. She has made a visual aide. WHY ARE YOU WASTING MY TIME?!
Stephen Horst is a vocal teacher. He instructs his students to "live in the moment" and "tell the story." He is a chud. He sings Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing." Vomit. He breaks out a pitch pipe. Vomit again. It's so corny-ass Broadway. All vibrato and shouty. I don't think he knows what dynamics are, and when he hits those high notes --- terrifying. He reveals that he is a Disney World performer! Hilarious. I could not have made that up. Simon is needling Randy and the chud. I love it when he does that. Simon is not being enough of an asshole this season. That's what I need. "What are we doing here?" Exactly Randy. Stop wasting my time.
Michelle Steingas sings "If This is Love" by Deanna Carter. She's adorable, a little pageantish in her moves. Simon describes her as being "confident without being irritatingly precocious." That's fair. Ringer for third-rate actress Rachel Blanchard. She is cute, though. Decent shot at Top 32.
Montage of assholes who got fired for trying out for American Idol. You bought your tickets, idiots.
Speaking of work, the very mannish-looking Dayna Dooley had her boss fly her and her sister out to try out for this. That is...not right. Sister straight-up looks like a dude in drag. The judges rib her for screwing the boss, which she adamantly denies. I think it's a fair point. She sings Chaka Khan's "Tell Me Somethin' Good." Good christ, what are the noises coming out of this person? Screechy. No melody. Seems legitimately confused. Her boss Gary is now in the room, getting dressed down. She sings "Fever" again! Much better singing in front of boss. Goddamn Jewel drops the word "lascivious" on Simon. Pretentious hag.
Matt Sato is 16 and has a big ol' zit or birthmark on his shnozz. He is also adorable and very, very gay. I hope he knows this, because otherwise he's going to have a rough time of it. He sings...something. I don't know. It's very Broadway. If possible, he gets gayer as he sings. Oh, Matt. He gets through, probably because Minnesota sucks so bad in general. He has a shot --- but not a great one --- at Top 32. He is now crying to his mom on his cellphone. His parents wouldn't come with him. He drops to the floor and says "She's proud of me!" Kid has massive family issues. Hugs, Matt. Hugs.
More soldiers! Jesus. Rachel Jenkins, is an Army Reservist, and her husband is currently stationed in Baghdad. She sings the traditional hymn "His Eye is On the Sparrow." Well, that's totally appropriate for Idol. Beautiful voice, actually. Needs to watch the pitch. She'll get cut in Hollywood, unless the Idol producers can't find any other hard-luck candidates. But I'll say it now: I'm getting sick real fast of the soldiers. This is more of that gross faux patriotism that made me so uncomfortable after 9/11. She is charming, though.
Sarah Krueger of Wisconsin sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Stunning girl. Beautiful voice. She is trying to be the new Kat McPhee. And lady, I know Kat McPhee. So you'd better work it. But I like her. I'm saying Top 32, easy. Would like to hear her try something poppy. She could be overly serious.
And then we have Jason Anderson, 16. He brings spinning sticks into the audition, and uses them as he sings some stupid song I don't know. Terrible. Weak. Whimpering. Off-key. Simon tells him he is "useless at everything. Even the juggling was pathetic." This is an accurate assessment. To prove them wrong, Jason then juggles...and drops the stick. The other judges try to get him on Simon's "America's Got Talent." "Your future involves not singing," Simon explains. Again, very fairly and calmly. And then Jason dances the lamest soft-shoe ever. Wasting. My. Time. Cut to outside the judging room, and Jason comes out and screams obscenities. This boy is cracking up. He is a freak. He is going to be a belltower assassin. He actually says the following "I'm 16 year olds and I wanted to start out famous!" His mom (I'm assuming) says, "You'll be famous." And that? Right there? Is what is so screwed up about America. And this show. Why can't I be watching actually talented people?
Well, because there's Brenna. That's why. Let's meet Brenna. Brenna is a big girl. She has fried, bad blond hair. A frumpy-ass black outfit. And fingerless gloves. Imagine Ally Sheedey from The Breakfast Club with a bad dye job and maybe 50 extra pounds, and you're getting close. Brenna tells us that by even auditioning for Idol she's "living my dream." Oh, girl. "The biggest fan should be the one to be the American Idol." Brenna identifies herself as an Idol super-fan, and refers to Idol as BFF. Why do I fear that she's being serious there? Her favorite contestant ever is Ace Young. Of course he is. She claims to have met him a couple of times, and he "drew her a tattoo" of a heart. Everyone says she's intimidating, so she wears heart on her sleeve. I think Brenna has a very rich fantasy life. She sings "Under Pressure" by David Bowie and Queen. Dogs are shrieking. It is physically hard to bear. I hope she watches this and has a very confronting introduction to reality. She says she's had 10 years of vocal training, and doesn't understand why nobody told her 10 years ago that she wasn't good. She says she has a degree in vocal performance. I'm going to go out on a limb here, and suggest that maybe they did, but that somehow Brenna didn't hear them. Just a hunch. After the post-interview with Seacrest, Brenna will not leave. She lingers in the camera frame, a grim reminder of what this show has become. Hollywood week cannot come fast enough.
Finally we have Josh Flom, 20, from Wisconsin. He is really gangly and should really do something about his sraggly hair. He compares himself to Chris Daughtry and then does that super-affected growl thing that is so popular with rock bands these days. It's so tiresome. You can tell that's not his actual voice, and that he's just laying it on to sound "cool." Which is precisely what they tell him. He's kind of a spazz, and I'm kind of pulling for him. They request him to sing something other than modern rock and he does "Dancing Queen" and then "Copacabana" --- both with that heavy affectation. He does not get through. But he takes it really well. Not coincidentally, he's the only person to leave the audition room through the right door. I kind of love that little spazz.
17 people got through to Hollywood. We saw, what, seven of them? And most of those people weren't very good. Two hours of my life for this?! I am half tempted to not bother watching until Hollywood week, when you get much better singing and a much more concentrated dose of dreams being destroyed. But I have a responsibility to report on this, so I will suffer for my art.
Next: Seattle brings out the freaks. Sigh.
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