Ryan introduces the show by pondering aloud whether anyone will have a nervous breakdown on stage. I think they have an loony bin paddy wagon on standby for Brooke at all times, just in the hopes that she will start foaming and slapping at people. Ryan reminds us how Neil Diamond is, in the words of the montage voiceover, "relentless." And of course, with songs like "America" to choose from -- well, can I skip tonight? No?

At the mentoring sessions, Neil Diamond is not wearing tinsel fringe. Downright weathered. Almost In fact, he looks a little bit like Neil Young. Now that would be a mentor. Glarp! Neil encourages the Idols to be joyful.

JASON CASTRO: First up to be mentored by this strange new Neil Diamond who wears tasteful brown suede is Jason. He shows us he's bringing his M game by immediately forgetting the lyrics to "Forever in Blue Jeans." Forever in oh, crap, my dreadlock fell off in my duck confit. Jason puts in a competent performance with his acoustic guitar and tonight the string section is in business casual. During this song for the first time I can kind of imagine Jason Castro having a future on the adult contemporary charts. Of course, he is wearing blue jeans. Never one to miss a visual metaphor. Tonight the idols will be judged after their second performance, so we don't get to hear from Snip, Snap and Snape until after the second song.

DAVID COOK: Slinging his electric guitar (the white one with the letters AC on it), befriended by a sweet-looking amp stack, and wearing a black business suit with AC appliqued on the front, David sings "I'm Alive." Neil Diamond liked him alright, and the song went fine. However, when Ryan leaps up onstage and addresses him as "DC" -- and I realize that *that* is what all of this AC nonsense is about. I am flattened into powder by the sudden crushing volume of his toolishness. I mean, he had AC emblazoned on his lapel, with, like red gothic letters. Has there ever BEEN such a vile chunk of excrement on this stage? I mean, I can't even look, people. ACDC my dog's puckered bung.

BROOKE WHITE: Brooke asks Neil if he's a hugger or a hand shaker. Uh, he's a serial decapitator. Step up. Brooke sings "I'm a Believer" in such a happy, schmappy, favorite-eccentric-aunt-singing-karaoke way that I feel bad already, just anticipating what vicious criticism will be leveled by Simon Cowell. It was a pretty bad show -- the key too low, the arrangement too reminiscent of the end credits of Shrek, and she played the guitar like she was trying to saw a log in half.

DAVID ARCHULETA: Neil Diamond looks at David Archuleta like he's a lemon bar lightly dusted with powdered sugar. Calls him a prodigy. And David sings "Sweet Caroline" just like you'd expect. There's a point in the middle somewhere when he attempts a fancy run on "they never would" that kind of gets away from him, and I'd almost swear it was edited just then. Like they let him have a tiny bit of a do-over or clipped out some of the mess. I'm sure not, I mean, this show is nothing if not authentic, right? Evidence that DA is a great big green healthy plant notwithstanding.

SYESHA MERCADO: In her mentoring session, she had Neil Diamond clapping and hugging. She sings "Hello Again" with long straight hair, a simple navy dress, and bare feet. She looks beautiful, and she actually delivers the words of the song as if she speaks English and understands what she's singing, unlike the last four screechers who might as well have been reciting "LA LA LA Neil Diamond wrote this song and we all know the words!"

After this round is over, Ryan brings out the contestants and lets the judges give their thoughts to this point. Randy burbles incomprehensibly. Paula apologizes for not being able to read and write, and then critiques Jason Castro rather harshly on two separate songs. When reminded that she was supposed to critique the first song only, she says, "I thought you sang twice!" Then she gets confused and starts rubbing her crib sheet under her armpits. Randy and Simon jumped in to helpfully say, "WHICH WAS YOUR FAVORITE, PAULA? YOUR FAVORITE?" as if she is deaf and ninety. Simon blasts them all and warns them they'd better improve on round two. Can't wait. I hate this episode, it's dreadfully boring. The commercials for "So You Think You Can Dance" are more interesting than this show.

JASON CASTRO: Jason sings "September Morn" on the "special moment" stool. I think he does really very well. Not that he interprets the lyrics or anything, but again, I can see that kind of Harry Connick Jr. audience going for him all of a sudden. This guy could be, like, absolutely mainstream. PLUS I had another brainwave on my endless search for who Jason Castro looks like: Emily Watson. Believe it. Randy didn't like it. Paula thought it was too safe and recommends Jason start to fight for this. Simon calls it forgettable and tells Jason they don't know who he is.

DAVID COOK: Douchey McToolerson sings "All I Really Need is You" with an acoustic guitar and does a fine job. Bit much on the "this microphone is made of opiates and I melt before it" pantomime. Nobody cares about this song. It gets loud, it gets quiet, it is executed by someone who is wearing a girly necklace. Randy is a big fan. Paula feels like she's already looking at the American Idol. Simon thought the first song was okay, the second song brilliant. Could have been on the radio this year.

BROOKE WHITE: Why aren't they letting them change clothes? Brooke's clothes were awful the first time, now they're practically offensive. I don't even know how to describe the grey, damaged, multilayered moist towellette she's got on top, but I do know it's belted. On the interview stools, Ryan reveals she has a lyric written on her arm. She sings "I am Myself" changing "New York City" to "Arizona" on the advice of Neil Diamond. Randy thought it was hard and she did a good job, Paula thought she connected with the audience and made herself vulnerable. Simon said that this the Brooke we like, a million times better than the first song.

DAVID ARCHULETA: This time up, Archuleta sings kind of a Sting-ish version of "America." His voice squeaks once. He says "of thee I sing" twice. Then he ends with "let freedom ring." I have to go outside now and take a wire brush to my eyes and ears. If I try and do it in the living room, my husband will stop me. These images and sounds must be eradicated. The judges crawl up on stage and try to grasp the hem of his garment. Look, I'm not saying his arrangements weren't well managed tonight. But remind yourself: they're not his arrangements. Nowhere is this "make it your own" fallacy so apparently fallacious as with David Archuleta's "choices."

SYESHA MERCADO: She sings "Thank the Lord for the Nighttime." Still in bare feet. Reminds me of her Andrew Lloyd Webber performance. The judges approve, but Simon predicts that she's in trouble tonight.

Here's the truth: The only performers who are actually comfortable on stage are Syesha and Jason. To some extent, David Cook seems comfortable and confident, but I think he's just doing a good job masking his worry that he will be exposed as a fraud. David Archuleta and Brooke White are white quivering ganglions of fear in the spotlight. Therefore they should go home. I'm tired of watching them tremble and quake.

Best Performance: Syesha with "Hello Again."
Worst Performance: Brooke with "I'm a Believer."
Going home: Brooke.

This show could very well come down to the two Davids. If it does, my boredom may reach out of the grey miasma that surrounds me and strangle me in its cool depths. But I will try to persevere.

Labels: american idol, neil diamond, recap, summary, television, top five

Has it really been a week? Have I really neglected in the interim to blog about literature and art? Is it true that the top search terms in the history of this blog are "Danny Noriega Gay" and "Robbie Carrico Wig" and "Jason Castro Looks Like John Travolta"? I am so killing myself. Right after I find out what Phantom of the Opera song Carly decides to sing! Squee! This! Is! American Idol!

Ryan announces that the finale will be powered by green power. Hamster wheels powering the spotlights, burning dung lighting up the monitors, smoked offal in the judges' Coke glasses. Go green! The band is now positioned down on the stage. I guess I should prepare myself for some very special moments.

Andrew Lloyd Webber is a little man with a giant head and the sleeves of his suits reveal a little too much of his plump wrists, but I love him. My husband says, "Never trust a person who uses all three of their names." I ask why. He replies, "Because ten times out of ten, they've killed somebody." I say that he wrote "Evita" and therefore he can do no wrong. He says "Don't cry for me, Ryan Seacrest."

Randy and Simon speculate that this will be the toughest week ever. Paula says did we see Cloverfield? Because that monster was like ripping things apart totally.

SYESHA MERCADO: In the Phantom Theater in Las Vegas, surrounded by mannikins in box seats, Syesha asks Sir Webber, "Can I be like animated and stuff?" Andy Dub says "Well, let me see the unanimated version." Syesha rolls her eyes and puffs out her lips and delivers "unanimated." Then he asks her to be "animated" and she acts like Shirley Temple. He recommends the latter. She appears in a tight red dress, standing on the grand piano, and puts on a big show. She looks cute and confident. The judges all agree that she did great. Something about the way her electrons wink in and out of existence when I look directy at her make it difficult for me to pay attention when she performs. But quantum theory notwithstanding, I believe that tonight she exhibited something resembling a personality.

JASON CASTRO: Jason interviews with his signature poise and eloquence that he was "kind of like uuuhhh" about singing music from Cats. He trys singing "Memories" for ALW and ALW describes it as a bit of a jolt, pointing out that in the musical it is sung by an aging glamourpuss. Never had he thought of it being sung by a guy in dreadlocks. Yeah. Jason admits he didn't know it was being sung "by a cat." He sings it in a beige linen suit with the star machine on, overwrought and breathy, the lower notes disappearing into the gauzy depths of his weedy and pale adam's apple. Randy calls it a train wreck. Paula rhapsodized about how he expressed himself. Simon compared it to a young guy being forced to sing his parents' song at a wedding.

BROOKE WHITE: Brooke is going to sing "You Must Love Me." Andrew Lloyd Webber observed in coaching that she had no idea what she was singing about. After some instruction and some background info on what the song is actually about, Brooke manages to simulate a sad facial expression, earning high praise from the master. She starts out the song, barfs up a word, asks to start over, then sings it real nice with hand gestures and everything. YES YOU HEARD ME: SHE STOPPED AND STARTED OVER. She sang four or five words and then stopped, asked the band to start over, and then sang it again. Randy said it was alright, he bought the emotion. The camera turns to Paula and the crowd grows eerily silent. Paula, in the middle of a terrible hush, pauses, and then says in a very calm voice "You must never start and stop and start again." As if she's saying, "You have six months to live." Simon says that in her position, having forgotten the lyric, he would have done the same thing. Everyone knows that Brooke is over though.

The way Jason and Brooke have talked about their songs, the way they delivered them, the way they interviewed about them and how little they knew about them when they first presented them to Andrew Lloyd Webber -- it's clear they were assigned these songs. They did not know what they were choosing, if any choosing was involved. The myth of song choice is busted.

DAVID ARCHULETA: David gets awkwardly hugged by a gaggle of Ugly Betty look-alikes on the stools. Apparently they are all his sisters? Andrew Lloyd Webber gives him props for reimagining "Think of Me" as a pop song instead of a diva song. He then advises David to open his eyes while he sings. "The eyes have it! That's why they say that!" he says. I am too kind and I admire the man too much to tell him it's actually ayes that have it and it's more about voting than emoting. But he knew that, right? He was just playing, right? David A's version of "Think of Me" is cute and peppy, but too heavy on the strings and a little boy-bandy when it could have kicked in a bit more on the second verse they're allowing the kids to do now that they have time to kill. Randy says it was the bomb. Paula says it was absolutely perfect. She says, she actually says, that he took a risk -- by turning it into a pop ballad. What risk? It was like turning honey into maple syrup. Not particularly dangerous. Simon calls it forgettable. David A looks like he might cry. Poor David! Subjected to criticism! Not nice!

CARLY SMITHSON: She was going to sing "That's All I Ask of You" but Andrew Lloyd Webber convinced her to do "Superstar" instead. That's right, the titular song from "Jesus Christ Superstar" -- a song/musical considered dangerously blasphemous by a significant percentage of the voting public. This is the opposite of Kristy Lee Cook doing "God Bless the USA." This is song-choice suicide. I'm expecting Carly's tattooed husband to bite the head of a cocker spaniel when they show him in the audience. She is wearing a sequinned jersey dress with funky fleur de lis down the front. During the judging, Carly seems to be holding a t-shirt that says "Simon Loves Me (this week)" and Ryan makes air quotes while reading the parentheses. Husband says, "Where did the shirt come from? Did she have it balled up and stuck in her butt?" Hmm--- maybe!

DAVID LEE COOK: Well isn't that fantastic. He grew up doing musical theater. Something tells me we're not going to get a Whitesnake rendition of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina." Andrew Lloyd Webber calls "Music of the Night" the sexiest song he's ever written, and during the mentoring, he demands that David picture him as a gorgeous girl, which he says he "regrettably" is not. Wow. Interesting dynamic. Cook is going to play this superstraight (oh yes, SUPERstraight) and sing it just like it is in the musical -- no cute rhythmic change-ups, no guitar, just eye-farking the camera and emoting like billy-o. Randy calls it a molten hot lava bomb. Paula calls him well rounded and tells him he has a beautiful instrument. Simon says "You made the most of the song you were given." So, they were given songs.

Best Performance: Syesha Mercado or David Cook.
Worst Performance: Brooke.
Going Home: Brooke. Bye, my sweet crazy girl.

Labels: american idol, andrew lloyd webber, recap, summary, television, top six

My TIVO failed to record sound during the first 3:47 minutes of this episode. This near catastrophe caused my husband to almost believe that there could be a reason to go on living in this merciless world of ours, but then the sound kicked in just in time to tell us that Mariah Carey's album is called E=MC2 and the first single from this album is called "Touch My Body." Um Mariah? Aristotle called. He wants his disjuncture of spirit and flesh back. Thanks.

Mariah brought her dog to the mentoring sessions and he wasn't cute. She recommended that the idols not see her as Mariah Carey but as their friend that they met last week who sings for a living.

DAVID ARCHULETA: David uses his breathy upspeak to tell us that meeting Mariah was overwhelming. His body language with her was weird -- like she was made out of molten lava and he didn't want to singe his faux 80s grunge t-shirt. But wait -- SOMETHING IS HAPPENING! Mariah actually gave him a note on the song! She made a recommendation that he go up into his falsetto (three syllables, thanks Mariah) at one point and -- that is the first time any of the "mentors" have actually given them advice. David sings "I Believe." Runs, gyrations, fist-clutching, penetrating gazes, and yes, lip-licking. The judges love it. Randy reveals to us that David is usually so nervous he doesn't eat. David says that today he "managed to eat." What a wilted dandelion is David Archuleta. What a forgotten, late-afternoon dandelion in a fingerprinted orange juice glass, laid out limp against the lip, devoid of chloroplast, vacuoles depleted, and no one wants to throw it away, because that cute child delivered it in its fat fist, but really, it's time to clear the table.

CARLY SMITHSON: On the stools, Carly talks about how boring it all is without Michael Johns around. Apparently the idols all sit around now looking at each other wondering who's going to crack a joke. Wow, makes me want to buy a Ford, really. She sings "I Can't Live Without You" or whatever it's called, I think we've heard this song most recently on a commercial for self-sticking shelf liner. She sings it until its tail falls off and it wanders around, tailless, wondering what to do next. They show a long, lingering shot of Carly's richly, deeply, darkly tattooed husband. She sings it over about eight octaves. Randy thought the lower octave was weak. Paula is in that mode where she talks in really clipped, short words and nods little nods on every word. Simon says he's been waiting to hear this song, but he feels like Carly didn't pull it off. He feels she has the capacity but didn't do it "on the night." They want her GONE, people. Gone.

That guy who was the guy in Enchanted has gone on to do a very crappy Chicklit movie. He's going to be a bridesmaid. GET IT? FUNNY BECAUSE HE IS A MAN!!!!!!

SYESHA MERCADO: Mariah wrote the song "Vanishing" when she was a teenager. It is still one of her favorites. Syesha apparently sang a bunch of wrong notes, which Mariah went through, with the pianist, and nicely fixed. That was nice. Syesha looks great tonight in a gold dress -- a little old but great. Again she delivers a very technical performance, very perfect, to me it actually seems more emotional than she usually gives us. As she stands before the judges she actually looks like she might be crying. Randy thought it was good. Difficult but good. Paula thinks it was a smart decision to choose a song that not a lot of people knew. Simon thought that was a dumb decision. You know what? Syesha is beautiful, and she looks like a really nice person, but she bores me near to apoplexy.

BROOKE WHITE: Brooke interviews on the stools that she missed her sister's wedding to meet with Mariah Carey. Wah, wah, she probably has lots more sisters. Brooke sings "Hero" at the piano, and we see quite a few deliberate tight shots of her hands. They look fine, perfectly matching her face this time. She must have given the old man hands back to the old man. Good decision Brooke. She messes up a little on her piano part, and I wonder why she's playing it so fast. These people accompany themselves on the piano and then just play chords on the beat! Like, regular, expected, unremarkable chords. Still, I thought she sounded heartfelt, genuine, and delivered the song honestly. I like Brooke, and she looks good in sparkles instead of the usual western 70s shirt. Randy thought it was good -- he liked the singer songwriter vibe. Paula thought it got a little faster throughout. Simon thought it was like ordering a hamburger and only getting the bun. Then he revises that comment to say... there was no tomato. Oh just stick to your farkin' analogy, pussy.

KRISTY LEE COOK: Mariah claims to like KLC's version of "Those Days of Love Are Gone" better than her own version. Kristy plans with crushing, stolid calm in her interview that she will get emotionally connected with the song. Great. Nothing like living in the moment. I liked it better than getting my eyebrows done. I liked it better than finding out I have a speeding ticket from 1995 that a collection agency is now pursuing payment for, and really, 1995? Why me? Why now? But the clerk of the county says "We found you!" Like I have been hiding behind a bush and they have been counting to 100. I am *never* going back to Ohio. KLC finishes up and I have not been killed by boredom but I had to resort to entertaining myself. Kristy has a dairy maid's face. The broad, honest face of a girl who milks cows. She's like that stoic peasant girl in a George Eliot novel, placid and longsuffering. Randy, Paula, and Simon think various things about her. Does it even matter? The fans of country music have found their new darling.

Gross! On their way to commercial they reveal that David Cook is back to the ironic banker's vest. NO!!!!!!

DAVID COOK: Mariah is interested in the male perspective that David brings to "You'll Always Be My Baby." She called it pretty and haunting. David sings the verse like he can't hear the monitor. Kind of vague. Eventually the song kicks in and he moves from Matchbox 20 to Live. You know what I mean? Still, a little precious. A little cute. Take a pop song and make it sorta emo. BEEN DONE. BY YOU. Randy says he's ready to make an album. He's a hot recording artist. Randy STANDS UP and gives a WOO. Paula says the song could be in a movie soundtrack. "You're it." Simon says it was like coming out of karaoke hell into a breath of fresh air. It was original, daring, and stood out by a mile. Wow, the pimping is in full effect. Gross, he's CRYING. David Cook, I am sickened by your weakness.

JASON CASTRO: Mariah thinks Jason doing "I Don't Wanna Cry" is interesting and different. Kind of like when you get the baby octopus salad and you are imagining pieces of baby octopus, but then instead it's like whole baby octopuses, with the heads still on, looking exactly like you'd think they would look, if they were still alive. Know what I mean, J? Then as now, interesting and different can mean so many things. She suggests some ideas and different melodies for him to help him interpret the song. I wish she would give him an idea to stop sounding like George Michael. I have to say that in dreadlocks and with all of his weird facials, George Michael does sound pretty cool though. He has a little kinda Latin acoustic ensemble on stage with him. Randy felt like he was at a beach luau. Paula would love to be at that luau. Simon agrees -- bring on the fried bananas!

Again, Jason Castro and Brooke White are the only performances that I would want to listen to again. The rest of those tooly bucketheads can suck it.

Best Performance: Jason Castro
Most Pimped Cringefest: David Fartchuleta
Worst Performance: Carly Smithson
Going Home: Carly Smithson

Labels: american idol, mariah carey, recap, top seven

I just remembered that I used to know a boy in high school who peeled his hands. He was a tall, thick, quiet boy with straight hair like a wet cap. He peeled the skin off his hands to the point that he sat in class with a bloody kleenex wrapped around parts of his hands at all times. Or maybe he had some kind of hand peeling disease that made his hands peel without his intervention. The point is that I sat next to this boy with the bloody rag in his hands and made absolutely no sort of contact ever. His behavior was categorized by me as aberrant and I ignored it. And him.

I don't remember his name, but I'm not surprised about that. It does surprise me that I felt no kind of comradeship with this boy, in fact I had a habit of tearing up my cuticles, at stressful times to the point that my best friend throughout high school and college would sometimes be moved to say, "Look, your fingers are like little Christmas trees!" This is the best friend, best friend for ten years, who revealed in her 2004 memoir that our friendship was based on my being mean and her being self-abusive. Or did she say that she stayed friends with me because if I, vicious troll that I was, could be nice to her, then she must be "cool." I can't remember which explanation she settled on, after offering both, I must admit I read those bits quickly.

Labels: personal

We watched this movie on Eleanor's birthday. She selected it. In the afternoon, she called me on my mobile and said, "Can you make this happen? It's all I really want, just 'There Will Be Blood,' okay?" And I said, "Well, there will also be cake," because I wanted to assure her that we would truly be celebrating, not just the usual chinese food and art films. And she said, "Okay, I will be there after 7:30." At 7:00 I called home and said to Dan, "Oh, Dan, please go and trade in whatever girl movie I had on the cabinet for 'There Will Be Blood' because it's Eleanor's special birthday wish." And then he said, "Okay." And then I said, "Can you please also wrap the present that's sitting in the front room?" And he said, "Will there be anything else?" Or something else to show mild loving exasperation with all these tasks, and I said something like "Thank you so much for helping me," because I was really grateful, feeling sort of tired and rushed, and he warmly told me that I was welcome.

If you felt like maybe fast-forwarding through the last paragraph, to get to the pay-off, and you kind of let your eyes wander down the screen to find the point of it all, and then coming to the end of the paragraph you felt like I just nattered on about things that were possibly poignant to me but hardly poignant to anyone else, then you get a small sense of why we watched "There Will Be Blood" on 1.5 speed. You can still hear the talking, okay? It's just that on the long shots where someone is trudging across the badlands, he trudges a little faster. On the endless lingering shots when someone is peering into the distance, or the fire, or the dirt, having complex masculine emotions down deep inside, he peers a little quicker.

Is that a crime?

Well, what if I told you I was making it easy for you in paragraph one? For example, I told you how I was feeling twice, when I could have just described the motion of my eyebrows and expected you to intuit it. I also did not include the 30 minutes I spent listening to my four-year-old daughter's wandering narrative based on the pictures in Peter Rabbit. A time I spent silently listening. I didn't include the time it took to drive home, during which I was almost motionless, staring straight ahead, and the kids were listening to Geggy Tah.

After five minutes, we said, "Maybe this is a movie for men?"

After thirty minutes, we said, "It ain't no 'Boogie Nights'!"

After an hour, we went to 1.5 speed.

We went back to the regular speed for the "I ABANDONED MY CHILD. I ABANDONED MY BOY." part and it was totally not worth it.



In the end, we were unmoved. To be fair, the movie suffered in comparison to the brilliant, amazing, wrenching, hilarious, explosive "No Country for Old Men." Let's face it: Coen > Tarrantino. But Anderson 2008 < Anderson 1998.

Labels: movie review, movies, paul thomas anderson, there will be blood

It's inspiration week. Tonight, the pink sweaty hopefuls squeeze out the tunes that have inspired them to press their moist little faces against the shop window that is pop music stardom. Tomorrow, they answer phones during American Idol's telethon slash launch party for Daughtry's latest single. Last year, Carrie Underwood hit it big with "I'll Stand By You" and this year I'm expecting Daughtry to funk up "It's a Wonderful World" while caressing orphans in Afghanistan. Maybe they'll let Favid Fartchuleta reprise his wet rendition of "Imagine." Maybe they'll let Fantastia come on and blow up "The Mariner's Hymn." I can't wait to watch Top Model instead. Then on Thursday, we will be inspired by the departure of one more clutching grub as it is hurled away in a graceless arc, flicked off the overturned rotten stump of fame that is... American Idol.

MICHAEL JOHNS: The message of Aerosmith's "Dream On" is that you should dream on until your dreams come true. This is the official interpretation according to Michael Johns, who has showed up in another supergay silk scarf, as if to personally wound me. He sings a little behind the music all the way through, chasing the beat a bit. He also exhorts us to sing for the "laughter" and sing for the "teas." Bit breathy. Bit weak. But then he surprises me with his "false" and manages to take the song up about eight octaves -- risky but effective. The crowd likes him.



Randy disapproved of the song choice. Michael argues that he chose he song because he is here in America living out his dream. Randy reminds him that this is a show about singing, not dreams. Apparently Randy missed the mallet to the head that we all experienced at the top of the show. It's about dreams and poor people, Randy! GIVE BACK! Paula loved it. Simon said it was wannabe-ish. Michael reiterates that it's about dreams coming true.

SYESHA MERCADO: Is she still here? I missed the interview part, getting a diet Coke. I'm starting to associate beverage refills with Syesha. Syesha sings "I Believe" which was, I believe, Fantasia's winning song. She, like Michael Johns, slips up into the atmosphere at the very end and hits an impressive high note. Randy says it wasn't as good as Fantasia -- no emotional connection. Paula says Syesha is a bright shining star. Simon agrees it lacked emotion. He doesn't want her to do Whitney and Fantasia; he wants to know who *she* is. Syesha leaves my sight and I immediately forget her for another week.



JASON CASTRO: Jason sings the Hawaiian ukelele version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and he ALSO provides a little sicky-sicky falsetto styling. Randy loved it: it was blazing molten hot. Paula says he has the most definitive sound on the guitar. Wow, just how definitive is it? And what does it define? Can something be definitive without defining anything? Is she really saying that Jason's sound when he plays the ukelele in that unimaginative way defines... guitar playing? Simon loved it: fantastic.



HOW does this guy not get busted on doing this lackluster rendition of a lackluster rendition? Maybe this song is just magical. A couple of years ago Katherine McPhee did a sprawled-on-the-stage version in the spotlight wearing gauze and brought the house down too.

So, tonight is about the falsetto. Can't wait to see what our next man, Kristy Lee Cook, will do with this opportunity.

KRISTY LEE COOK: She's singing Martina McBride's "Anyway." Cat-sucked hair, glitter eye-shadow, and a flesh-colored tank top covered in rhinestones. The second verse is something like "You can sing a crappy song that no one wants to hear and tomorrow they'll forget you exist if they're lucky, but SING IT ANYWAY!!!!" and I feel bad for KLC if she goes out this week because that song would be hard to bring out as an exit song. Randy liked it. Paula thought Kristy outdid herself. Simon thought she was very good indeed. Err!! Indeed!!! And he adds that she looks like a star.



The last two performances were so neutral that you could have said anything about them, really. The judges chose to fawn and gasp and throw rose petals. To me this means that they are done with Carly Smithson. That's my take. I am betting, at this point in the show, that they tear her throat out tonight and show her making out with her tattooed husband during the break. And in the interview she will reveal that she eats live puppies for breakfast, and then burp and say "But you promised you wouldn't show that, right?"

DAVID COOK: He's singing "Isn't" by his favorite band, Our Lady Peace. He's wearing a white military jacket that's like if the eighties and the revolutionary war got married and that was the top half of their wedding dress. The song doesn't work. David Cook does come down off the stage and stand contemptuously in front of the judges -- the contestants haven't been doing that this season. Wow... he sucks. At the end of the songs he extends his hand to the camera and it says "give back" in black magic marker. What a TOOL. Randy wasn't sure. Paula thinks he's the whole package, the whole package. Simon thought it was pompous. I am revolted.



CARLY SMITHSON: She's going to sing "Show Must Go On" by Queen. To her it means that when you're given $2 million to make an album and it sells 300 copies, you should just put on a striped tank top and a gold belt and start shouting.



She looks old, tough, and kinda beefy. The song did not work. Very bad, and she looks like a bartender. Randy didn't like it, said she took the tiger by the tail and lost. Paula didn't feel the connection, didn't feel engaged with her. Simon thought the song choice unusual: she oversang it, and lost control. It came through as an angry performance. I agree, and I predict an influx of amusing screen caps on votefortheworst.com. They love her so much over there. Simon speculates that she may be in trouble this week. SEE? I was right. They want her off.

DAVID ARCHULETA: He's tells us he's going to sing "Angels" because he felt it so strongly. On the first line, he points out there are a "dozen nangels" and I realize that's probably going to be my favorite part of the song. Like when the best part of "wakin nup" is Folger's in your cup. I don't know this song, but I can tell you this: Archuleta is playing a very very VERY simple piano part and he keeps having to look down at it to get it right. Why is he sitting at a grand piano so he can stress over playing I IV I V I chords on the downbeat? Whatever.



Randy practically goes apoplectic over it -- CRAZY HOT, CRAZY HOT, etc. Paula loved it, his best moment ever, the light of heaven radiating from his face. Simon says it was the best song choice ever, the best pop song ever, he will sail through to the next round.

A girl in the audience holds up a sign that says, "Lick those lips!!!"

Next, our troubled, complicated, darling Brooke will take on the rest of these farkers and try and show them how it goes. I wish she would do it with a meat axe, but I think she's going to try and do it with Carole King.

BROOKE WHITE: She sang "You've Got a Friend" in a talent show once with two friends, so she's going to sing it tonight. She says she was inspired by the whole "Tapestry" album from Carole King, that sounds so ominously false. I feel better as soon as Brooke starts -- and she delivers the song. The arrangement, the back-up singers and the violins are all a little oppressively Lite-FM, but Brooke keeps it sweet, simple, and sincere. I even like her sofa-colored dress.



Randy wasn't mad. Paula thought it was the perfect end to the show and tells Brooke that she is DEFINITIVE. Clearly, Paula is trying to redefine "definitive." That's almost postmodern. Simon calls it pleasant.

Best Performance: I didn't like any of them too much but I guess Syesha and Brooke were the best tonight.
Worst Performance: David Cook, that insufferable tool.
Going Home: Carly Smithson, discarded by the producers.

Labels: american idol, recap, summary, television, top eight

No one has been anticipating the Dolly Parton night more than I have. No, not even you.

Looky at Ryan! Ryan is trying to play an April Fool's joke on us! Oh toodledy doodle! He tells us tonight's episode would be pre-empted (TEE HEE) by a special celebrity edition of "Moment of Truth" (WAKKA WAKKA) starring our very own Simon Cowell (SPROINGK!!!) but then he gives us our first fist-pump off the night and says APRIL FOOLS THIS IS AMERICAN IDOL! Whatever. He's wearing pewter again.

Dolly Parton has written over 3000 songs. She says she thinks of her songs as her children. Dolly looks like the mom from Brazil. The idea of her having 3000 inhuman children is almost logical.

BROOKE WHITE: Her session with Dolly was kind of uncomfortable, but Dolly likes her honesty. She sings "Jolene," which is a song I've never heard before but I kind of like. A man is sitting next to her on a box, and playing the box as percussion. During the song, I pretend there is a little extra man inside the box, being punished for making fun of Dolly's plastic surgery. There is also a violin, and Brooke plays the guitar. Randy said it was alright. Paula told her she had an emotional connection with the song, and added definitively "You are Brooke White." Simon contradicted Paula, saying it lacked emotion, that the group of musicians looked odd together, and that she just sort of busked her way through it. She does look a little casual, in her cornflower blue t-shirt and those damn military button pants again. I'm hoping against hope she'll vote-pimp for the camera by holding up one shrivelled, wrinkled, craggy finger for us: Vote #1 for Brooke! But she just clutches her guitar. You know, she is really very poised up there. I'll give her that. And some coconut oil.



DAVID COOK: David Cook appears on the stools to 'fess up to finding the much-loved arrangements to Day Tripper, Eleanor Rigby, and Billy Jean online. It's not any kind of "I'm sorry" thing, it's just Ryan interviews him into a comfortable place to clarify things. Then he clarifies that tonight's version of "Little Sparrow" is his own. Too bad. Tonight his hair is 80% better, he's wearing a white collared shirt and jeans and strumming an acoustic guitar with no letters on it. He almost looks like a grown-up.



Unfortunately either the song is just monotonous or he can't light up an arrangement without YouTube research. Randy loved it. He says he loved David "going into your false." Paula echoed this sentiment. I like false as a noun. I want a false! Don't you? Let's all go out and have falses. It'll be so thematic for tonight's songwriter. AHEM. Simon congratulated him on making a song about sparrows sound good. Ooo! Another towel-snap to Dolly Parton!

RAMIELE MALUBAY: Ramiele admits to being starstruck by Dolly Parton. Each of Dolly's upper lips flutters gently over cute little Ramiele and her spunky song that she picked. It's one of those perky little numbers that engenders a lot of head-bobbing in a singer, a lot of eyebrow waggling, and I can't remember any of the words or what the song was about. Randy gives it a 6.5 out of ten. Paula announces that Ramiele had a great minute and thirty seconds. Simon predicts that in ten years time we will not remember it. He likens it to a cruise ship performance. Ryan leaps up on stage and Ramiele uses her really ironic upspeak? To tell us? That she was like freaking out? In front of Dolly? Ryan is unamused and shakes Ramiele around by the neck.



JASON CASTRO: Dolly picks up the dreads like they're little animals and says, cryptically "I would dread to do those locks." Yeah. Jason sings "Travelin' Through" in a perfectly respectable way. He actually has a couple of facial expressions that indicate some kind of feeling or some kind of believable performance. Randy liked it. He liked the vibe. Paula thought he sounded great. Simon didn't like the song, thought it sounded just like the last song, just didn't get it.



So, Dolly has given them exactly zero advice, none of the songs have made any significant impact, and her bone structure is terrifying. Couldn't we have had one more Beatles week?

CARLY SMITHSON: Carly stumps out onstage in brown leggings and knee boots. Unfortunate. She starts the song with the guitar player next to her onstage, signalling that this will be one of those "very special performances" but then the band comes in with a Lite FM type accompaniment.



Boring and fat. I mean flat. Her hair tonight reminds me of that awful video she made when she was 16 where she writhed around in a wind machine promising oral sex to all comers. Again they show her tattooed husband. Hey, it worked last week -- she got in the bottom three. Randy and Paula loved it, Simon did not, and Simon points out that she needs to "have a word" with whoever is dressing her. She doesn't look like a star. I agree. She looks like she's wearing those "alternative" jodphurs that some people wear to make a statement when they really should just wear the tan ones like everyone else and let the horse make the statement. If you know what I'm talking about, yo. Leave the steel blue jodphurs. Leave the brown ones. Go with tan. Sing like you mean it.

Ryan comes back from the break in the mosh pit. There are more "returning student" types in the mosh pit than I imagined.

DAVID ARCHULETA: His moist lips and piercing stares make Dolly Parton cry. She references his "little emotion." He sings some kind of country-roads-take-me-home bull droppings about the old folks at home (literally) and leaning on his Jesus (really) and the Smoky Mountains. Nauseating beyond the scope of my tolerance. Randy loved it. Paula applauds his tone and beautiful aura, says he is "glorious." Simon says the song choice was on the money. David does his habitual sighing and squinting, and the fangirls in the front row explode.



KRISTY LEE COOK: Dolly thinks Kristy's Momma will be proud of her. Kristy reveals she would rather impress Dolly Parton than her own mother. Endearing like a bear trap, darlin'. She's wearing turquoise and silver and a glitter eye shadow tonight, singing "Coat of Many Colors" in bare feet.



On the last "coat of many colors that my momma made for me" she wobbles her head all over the place. Yeah, signature head-wobble! Husband says "She really made it for the dog." Yar! Randy and Paula gush and throw roses. Simon calls it pleasant but forgettable.

SYESHA MERCADO: Dolly says she's pretty and has a real pretty voice. Thank you, Dolly. You and Gordon Ramsey, baby. Hard as nails. Syesha sings "I Will Always Love You" in a sunshine yellow dress with a red belt, sitting primly on a grand piano. Heeeeedious to look at, but I think she sang the song very well, actually. It would have been better if a strange brown cat hadn't crawled out of the bushes and sat on her head during the whole performance.



Distracting, that strange brown cat. Randy and Paula garble ambivalence and Simon predictably says that she didn't sing it as well as Whitney Houston might have. Husband points out that everyone who ever does this song gets obliterated in critiques for not being Whitney Houston. I bet David Cook could do it and not get the comparison. If, of course, Alice in Chains had a version on YouTube that he could adapt. But this is about Syesha! And... Syesha is kind of boring.

MICHAEL JOHNS: In the tape, it is revealed that Dolly likes Michael and Michael likes Dolly. It's cute! They dig each other. Michael always seems to pull out something genuine and endearing in the tape, right before he marches out onstage and lays a big squashy turd. Predictably enough, he sings "It's all Wrong But It's All Right" in a really bluesy way with his shirt open, while wearing a silk... purple... NECK SCARF.



Like he is the freakin' "The Continental." GAHHHHH. Too gross. TOO GROSS! I call too gross!!!! Randy loved it, Paula says he looks gorgeous, Simon thinks it's the best he's heard him sing ever. Bleeaarggh.

Best Performance of the Night: In my opinion, Jason Castro or Brooke White. Those are the only one I'd want to hear again.
Most Relentlessly Pimped But Undeserving Horrorshow of the Night: David Archuleta
Worst Performance of the Night: Ramiele Malubay
Going Home: Carly Smithson

Labels: american idol, dolly parton, recap, summary, top nine