When the show opens, the top 12 guys are standing at the edge of the stage as if ready to be shot to death with arrows. A pudgy Ryan Seacrest marches down the line, barking out threats and demands. Chest in, recruit! Scruffy chin out! Clearly under orders to ignore the camera, the "singers" look full of fear and polyester stuffing. They should be afraid. After all, the girls sucked big rotten mangoes last night and if these guys aren't careful, they'll be sucking on them too.

I actually do like a few of the contestants tonight. If I can maintain any level of respect or affection for any of them two hours from now, I'll be faint with shock. The judges predict nerves will rule the evening. Kara recommends that if they're nervous they find a place they're comfortable with. How about their garage? No? Nestled in their mama's bosom? No? Then it has to be the Idol stage. Sorry, Kara.

TODRICK HALL: Todrick's clothes are unremarkable: congratulations Todrick's clothes! He turns in a scant, nervous reinterpretation of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone," re-imagined as a Gwen Stefani style reggae song, like if "Sweet Escape" was sung by a nervous man who had been told to dance for his life. After demanding all night last night that they completely violate expectations and change up songs to fit their own style, the judges filet him for "making it his own." Simon called it "bordering on stupid." Ryan begs for votes based on creativity. Todrick's face says, "But I thought I was supposed to--" but then it's time to flash his numbers and move on, leaving Todrick's incredulous carcass blinking in shame.

AARON KELLY: Aaron Kelly is just a fetus still encased in an amniotic sac. He's the type of dripping, mucousy fetus that likes to wear jogging pants, a thin hoodie, and a gold necklace around its ropy, wobbly neck, but not tonight! Tonight, the moist and delicate Aaron is all cowboyed out in a flannel shirt and torn jeans, and sings "Here Comes Goodbye" by Rascal Flatts. He struggles along, straining away with his undeveloped lungs and his finger buds clutching that big heavy microphone. Panting, gasping, slipping, he hits the glory note hard and explodes. The judges like him. Ellen's critique: "Ditto to all that."

JERMAINE SELLERS: Jermaine interviews to remind us that he was the one who famously whined that the band messed him up on his last Hollywood solo. Then he sing "Get Here" in every key imaginable, with a whole lot of winking, nodding, sex-eye, and grinning. He is wearing a grey tuxedo coat over a cotton henley, with a satin rosette just like Granny used to make, and a black fedora with no brim. He looks like he was wearing a regular hat and then walked into a giant sander or something, scraping the brim right off it for a disconnected, disastrous effect. The judges hate him, and I also hate him. After the critique, Ryan asks Jermaine if he's made peace with Michael, meaning Michael from the band. Jermaine frowns and stutters, pricelessly, "Who's Michael?" Oh, really, who is Michael? He's the guy coming up on stage right now so spontaneously for this super-spontaneous moment of ha ha forgiveness, except that Jermaine is such a diva, he can't even laugh. What an idiot. Michael should stuff him into a compost pile.

TIM URBAN: Tim has a very catlike upper lip and also fangs, do you see this? And rained-on skater hair. In his photo shoot, he pulls a wacky-dacky pose jumping up in the air with his arms out. Like hey look at me with mah sweaty-sweaty armpits! And the gag is, he actually has big sweaty armpits! HA! Tim sings "Apologize" by One Republic, and the gag here is that he actually has, like, no falsetto register. At all. So it's like "It's too late to apologize! It's too late! It's too late to apologize! It's too late!" Where the greyed out words are actually little mouse squeaks. Recognize that there were multiple vocal coaches, producers, directors, and other bozos that okayed this song choice and this performance. The judges shred him and he admits it was a last minute switch. I thought Randy clarified last night that they weren't supposed to sing songs that made their voices sound bad. He should have mentioned this includes songs that they actually physically cannot sing because sounds that come out of mouths do not magically happen just because you really need them to. You have to make them down in your throat, and if the song calls for a sound that your throat cannot create, you end up standing their like a supreme doucheface, squeaking and wishing.

Hey, Edward Cullen is on Lost now!

JOE MUNOZ: If Ellen Degeneres was a small, Mexican man Joe Munoz would be that small Mexican man. As it is, he's just another black-eyed man the size of a jockey in a fringed scarf singing "You and I Both" by someone I don't know. He sings adequately, putting him right on the top of the pile for the night. Ellen congratulates him for being comfortable on stage, and surprises nobody by liking the performance. She says, "I think people are going to look at you and say 'He can sing, and he's comfortable on stage' and vote for you." Yeah, because here on American Old Sandals, we look for people who "can sing." Note: Joe is a lip-licker, and that will get more significant as the season wears on. I predict that by April, if I haven't killed myself yet and Joe is still on the show, I am recommending Clorox chapstick.

TYLER GRADY: Thank you, Tyler Grady, for being an actual entertainer. I enjoyed your fun, relaxed rendition of "American Woman" and I think the audience did too. No winking, no glory notes, no runs, no nerves. It sounded good, he worked the stage, and he was as authentic as a person singing a 45 second song can be. I think the main reason I hated him in the audition shows was that his skin was so relentlessly freakin' shiny that it hurt my eyes. The judges told him he was all style and no substance, and demand that he brings it into this decade. Because they haven't spent weeks telling people to know who they are and stay true to that. Tyler doesn't look too bothered, but promises he will go to the mall if voted through. Great.

LEE DEWYZE: Lee looks apologetic, as usual, for breathing the air. He is a constipated, resentful version of Elliot Yamin -- remember that guy? Lee sounds pretty cool for about half of his performance of "Chasing Cars." If you close your eyes you can almost forget he's a hunchy little troll. I can see him singing something Daughtry-ish, but I can also see him grabbing a bone from the carcass in the road and scampering back under the the porch to gnaw on it. All of the judges but Simon chastise him. Lee stands there pulling on the hem of his shirt like a dork. Shifting from foot to foot, he then charms the hair clips off America with his unpretentious answers to Ryan's dumb questions -- he is having the best time of his life and he never wants this feeling to end. I almost start to think he's kind of cool, and that his story arc will involve him coming out of this shirt-pulling shell and being a star. Then I feel manipulated and resentful, and I snarl at passers-by.

JOHN PARK: John sings "God Bless the Child." As Ryan announces it, I feel like calling out... No, John, no. You must not sing that song! How could it work? I don't know what I was expecting to come out of his mouth when he opened it, but what did come out was something bad. Something bizarre-o, because John Park has absolutely no accent when he is speaking. What happened to him when he sang was a mystery. It almost sounded like someone with a thick Asian accent trying to sing really jazzy black slang. The judges absolutely hate it (except Ellen, who would like it if the contestants squeezed a glop of poo out the bottom of their pants and then sat on it). John shames them by sharing that for him, the song is about his parents, and how they worry about money, and how the reason he is here is because of that song. Ok, he doesn't have to go home this week.

MICHAEL LYNCHE: Big Mike! The guy who skipped the birth of his child to compete in American Idol! This competition must mean everything to him! Enough that he certainly wouldn't show up on stage in a western shirt and jeans and tennis shoes. Oops, seems not. He sings "This Love" by Maroon 5, playing a tiny guitar which we never ever hear. He got through it just fine, and he reads as likeable and cool. The judges ask him to challenge himself more, and say that he shouldn't get cocky. When Simon criticizes him, he snaps back, "Aowww!" then threatened to give Simon some of his arm muscle. Standing next to Big Mike, Ryan Seacrest doesn't look so puffy. Big Mike will be back next week.

ALEX LAMBERT: Alex looks like the male version of that smelly hippie Crystine Bowsentowler, but instead of her ballsy attitude, he's got tulips for testicles. His goal is to show people that he can perform, as he puts it, that he is "able to." He sings "Wonderful World" which has the worst lyrics ever for an American Idol song pick. Check it:

I've been down so low
People look at me and they know
They can tell something is wrong
Like I don't belong

Staring through a window
Standing outside, they're just too happy to care tonight
I want to be like them
But I'll mess it up again

I tripped on my way in
And got kicked outside, everybody saw...

And I know that it's a wonderful world
But I can't feel it right now
Well I thought that I was doing well
But I just want to cry now

Yeah. Great lyrics! Who in their right mind would sing this song in a competition? It's like Eeyore's theme song. Bah. Alex looks miserable, hunches up his shoulders, lags behind the beat, and in general dies an awful death on the stage. No joy, no confidence. Ellen compares him to an unripe banana. Alex gives props to the band and reveals this is the third or fourth time he's ever sung in front of people. Endearing but sucky.

CASEY JAMES: Who doesn't want Casey James to do well? He's cool, he's hot, he's a good singer. He has given us no reason to punch him in the face yet, right? He sings "Heaven" by Bryan Adams, sitting on a stool with his guitar (which we can actually hear), and delivers a very decent performance. Yes, he took off his shirt in his audition. Yes, he's had his hair highlighted. Yes, he pronounces it "Lying here in my yarms," but for now I want to believe, okay? I want to believe. The show plays up the whole "Kara is in love with Casey" meme, and Ellen admits that he's going to get votes no matter what, almost admitting that it doesn't matter what he sings. Yes, he will get votes. Casey has a Sawyer thing going on, and a natural swagger. He is hard not to like. GOOD JOB, CASEY. For now, I am on your side.

ANDREW GARCIA: Full disclosure: I really liked this guy coming in. He's rough, cool, short, and looks like the birth control glasses are in this case not an affectation. He sings "We're Going Downtown Sugar" by Fallout Boy. I think the key could be a little lower, the song was a little repetitive, and in general the mix was a little light on bass, but I still like him. The judges like him too, and forgive all in memory of the day he played "Straight Up" by Paula Abdul.

Folks, this week was awful. This is the point in American Idol where we the people always say, "This was really the best you could come up with?" All those stadiums full of people, all those wails and riffs in Hollywood, and these 24 people are really the greatest unsigned vocalists in America? And we scoff and scorn. Luckily, we know that as the competition wears on, we will grow to hate some of them even more, and our current state of bewildered apathy will turn into a fine point of disgust and scorn. Something to look forward to.

Best Performances: Casey James and Lee Dewyze
Worst Performances: Aaron Kelly and Tim Urban
Going Home: Jermaine Sellers and Alex Lambert

Labels: american idol, idol, recap, television

AMERICA! IT'S OUR TURN! TO TAKE THE REINS! OMG! ANOTHER SEASON OF AMERICAN IDOL!

The first segment of tonight's American Idol plays on a weird edge, as if someone moved up the broadcast time by half an hour and didn't tell anyone on set until thirty seconds before they were live. Like someone yanked Randy out of the bathroom and Ryan was off camera tying his shoes. Ellen is scripted to worry about Simon's grabby hands, complete with a "roll tape!" You guys had months to come up with Ellen's first joke, and this was it? Awkward. And boring.

News: There are a bunch of women. Tonight they are going to sing. Are you freakin' kidding me? This is awesome news, and I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Paige Miles: Paige is wearing the first fashion disaster of the season: a lacy homecoming funeral dress with a wide silver leather belt. She has been made up like a zombie, grey paste all over her face, including her lips. Really, I think the makeup artist hates her -- she couldn't possibly look worse if she went and pulled out a handful of whatever is in the drainspout and used it as foundation. She sings "All Right Now" by Free, virtually unaccompanied due to a mixing glitch, or maybe someone quietly laid a large marshmallow directly on top of the band.

The microphone is super sparkly.

Ashley Rodriguez: Ashley looks pretty cool in a white gold jacket, white gold shoes, and fantastically sheer pink lip gloss. Again with no band in evidence, she's just trying to be "Happy" by Leona Lewis. Kara identifies Leona Lewis as the Mariah Carey of "our generation." Eh? Kara is 39. Mariah Carey is 39. Ashley Rodriguez is 21. Leona Lewis is 24. So while Leona Lewis might be the Mariah Carey of Ashley's generation, I'm sorry to report to Kara that the Mariah Carey of her generation (and mine) is... Mariah Carey.

I already forgot both the first two girls. Who were they again?

Janell Wheeler: Janell sings "What About Love?" by Heart and does fine, considering no one can hear the band! Can you not hear the band either, or is it just me? Maybe they're doing this on purpose, so we can really hear the vocals, without the benefit of that pesky instrumentation? Maybe the style in Kara's generation is to have your backing band sound like they're under a dirty mattress, not even trying to get out?

Ryan asks the judges to pontificate about song choice, and Randy suggests the contestants not sing songs that will make their voices sound bad. Brilliant. Look, if anybody doesn't get by now that the way to choose songs that suit your voice is to choose a song that has nothing to do with your voice and then warp the key signature, time signature, volume, and tempo until it is completely unrecognizable, they have not been watching the show. You don't get props from the judges by singing songs. You get props by reinventing songs. We are only waiting to see who from this season will be our exciting reinventor. Which brings us too...


Lilly Scott: Lilly Scott reminds me of that whore character that Rachel Dratch played on 30 Rock. You know, the one that said, "HAPPY VALENTIMES!" Also, she has hair extensions hanging from her ears. Lilly sings "Fixing a Hole" by the Beatles. She oversings it a bunch, but her voice is the only one so far that can stand up to this empty mix -- unaccompanied she's just fine. The judges liked it. I get that she's cool and she sings on pitch, but they go on and on about how different, how authentic, how unique she is. People, she is not original. The judges love the fact that she's indie. Randy points out that while she sounds like Duffy and Lily Allen, it's okay because that's actually who she is. So, when you're blindingly original in a completely derivative way, that means you're authentic. Or something. Lilly makes the "I need glasses" face. Does she look like Tracy Ullman or Rachel Dratch? Tracy Ullman or Rachel Dratch?

Katelynn Epperly: Katelynn hasn't decided whether to cover that mole on her forehead or just let it ride. Some of her interview shots she's tried to cover it, sometimes not. Tonight it is out in full force, like a beacon of authenticity in a world of Duffy wannabes. Except she looks like a young, tarted-up Bernadette Peters. Someone needs to tell Katelynn that you have to spend a lot of money on red lipstick for it to actually be red. Hers is pinked out. She sings "Oh Darlin" by the Beatles with a whole lot of fake angst. She delivers it adequately, despite the fact that half a crow is burrowing into her hair during the performance. Ellen actually says the words, "I liked it a lot." What the hell is the purpose of having judges, seriously? "I liked it a lot"???

Haeley Vaughn: Haeley sings a Disney channel slash porno version of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" wearing a shorted-off wedding dress, complete with a little veil holding thinger in her head and lace white tights. This is definitely *the* visual of the evening, wow. She never stops smiling, through the entire interview segment, song, and critique. Kara responds by calling her "pure." I hated the performance more than anything I've seen on television in the last twenty years. Her chin-digging, the shiny red guitar she couldn't really play -- she sounded and looked like she was on Barney. It made me want to kill everyone in the room and then die myself. Ellen says, "Speaking as someone who likes music, I enjoyed it." Simon agrees with me -- THANK GOD.

Lacey Brown: Wearing a tablecloth over black leggings, a plastic Lacey Brown doll and her lone vapid backup singer massacre Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide." They slip and slide around every single note up and down the scale like a couple of limp trombones. It was sickly and sad, riddled with the kind of knowing, you-and-me-baby eye contact that contestants seem to think will provoke people to vote. Her lip gloss looks fantastic though. Do we have to hear from every judge? It's like a chore getting through them all, takes much longer than the performance itself.

Michelle Delamor: She interviews that the most exciting thing about this experience is that her family is there with her. Maybe her family normally ignores her or runs away from her when she comes near. Must be special, getting all this attention from them. She sings "Falling" by Alicia Keyes, and it sounds like someone has fixed the mix a little bit, but it's still deadly boring. I don't remember anything about her from Hollywood week or auditions... do you? She certainly has a lot of teeth. The judges give mild praise.

Didi Benami: She fondly remembers singing "Terrified" for Kara, and reports cutely that her Idol journey has been emotional and spiritual. Gross! She needs her head slammed in a book, before she can experience one more inchoate emotion. She sings "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson, and she's wearing a crocheted rainbow vest. Sounds comfortable, quirky, and for once a little understated -- I actually like it. Simon accuses her of trying to sound like Duffy, and misses a spark. Then we make our death march down the line of judges where they all say the same thing, one after the other, all down the line. Why do we have four judges? We could just have four barking dogs, or four people leaping into different colored pools of water, or four bells ringing. It would be faster.

Siobhan Magnus: Throughout the audition process, she was unbeautiful, long on teeth and short on polish. She cleans up, however, pretty well in a black shirt dress, with a magnolia behind her ear. Someone has taken a stern stance on her eyebrows and attacked them with a mower. She sings "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak, which shows remarkable restraint, and she pulls it out like a pro. There was almost no audible back-up, but it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of in this performance, and that's saying something.

Crystal Bowersox: Crystal interviews that the reason someone as obviously cool as she is deigned to try out for a low, greasy-hamburger-and-fries show like American Idol, even though she's all indy and shit and awesome and can like play the harp and has dreads, is because she has a son. She adds, "Mama needs a bigger paycheck." She sings "One Hand In My Pocket" by Alanis Morisette, and right in the middle she gasps and pulls on the harmonica some. Simon calls her bullshit, and points out there are 10,000 girls capable of doing that song that way. He recommends she do something original, and she whines that the show doesn't allow originals. Then everyone on the show falls down at her feet and froths and foams, begging her forgiveness and promising to change their whole format to accommodate her. Simon rushes off to consult with another executive, and when he comes back, they let her win the show, right now, tonight, just because she is so real. Or, they ignore her comment and tell her to sing David Bowie. Oh piss me a river, dreadlots. You sold your soul; don't pretend you still own your music.

Katie Stevens: Katie reminds us that she is young, has a grandmother, and that we care about her. It wouldn't be the semifinals without am attempted haunting via heartfelt rendition of "You Know How I Feel" by Michael McBubble, so here we go. Katie tries winking and shoulder-shaking, and it looks like a middle schooler doing karaoke. If I'm listening to her, it's not that ridiculous, but as soon as I open my eyes, I'm ready to decapitate her. It was cutesy, weird, and ultimately it was unbrave, and that's what was wrong with it. It was timid. Simon calls it pageanty, but Kara points out that if she'd killed the song, he wouldn't be saying that. That's true. She didn't kill it.

This has been another show on my television. Now, vote for your favorite.

Here is something I must say: Ellen follows everything with "You're great." Ellen should be fired right away. She's not funny, she's not insightful, she keeps on talking. Also, if you want to hear how the show was supposed to be mixed, listen to the reminder clips at the end of the show -- they have the balance right at last.

Best performance: Didi Benami and Siobhan Magnus
Worst performance: Haeley Vaughn and Lacey Brown
Going home: Paige Miles and Michelle Delator

Labels: american idol, recap, television

In a connected world, where every place is right next door to every other place via cell phones, airplanes, and the internet, it was really lovely to read a novel that was truly of a very certain place. The Widow and the Tree takes place in extremely rural Alabama, and the disconnected nature of the location separates the reader from any particular time, or any invasive modern influence. Without the ringing, buzzing, and informing, what's left is a quiet book that ends up booming, a small story that resonates.

A five hundred year old live oak is the central character, as it frames the lives of a few strange characters who also inhabit this swampy and wild backwater. If you told me before I cracked it open that I would be deeply engrossed in a novel which is essentially about a tree, and tangentially about a couple of hermits, I would have been skeptical. However, the scene that Sonny Brewer paints is compelling and surprising in its depth. Rather than limiting the book, the narrow scope propels the reader farther into the landscape, so it's possible to read a chapter about the noises a bird makes tapping on the branch of a tree and actually still stay engaged. It's possible to really be quietly present in this dangerous, haunting world of the Ghosthead Oak and start to know it, or at least to know how much you don't know about it.

The book is small, but it penetrates like a bullet. It's as specific as a fingerprint, and as unforgettable as a face. I'm impressed with Brewer's restraint, both in language and in characterization. There is nothing goopy and romantic about this widow, nothing drearily tragic about her hero either. The wilderness is hard, and the book is hard, but it's also beautiful in its simplicity.

The Widow and the Tree is a prime example of why MacAdam/Cage is great and would be sorely missed.

Labels: book reviews, sonny brewer, the widow and the tree

Water for Elephants was a runaway bestseller, a breakout book for author Sara Gruen, and a book club darling. The comments you hear in reaction to this book range from "Loved it" to "It blew my mind, changed my life, and I chewed my own wrists open when it was over." Not everyone likes every book, but I have to say that this one has met with universal approval from readers of every stripe. Writers, take heed. Water for Elephants is more than a good story; it's a seminar in technique from which aspiring writers could definitely benefit.

Lesson #1: Milieu. Choose to write in a world that people want to read about. Gruen set her book in a traveling circus during the depression. I wanted to read it before I had any idea what the plot might be like just because of where it was. For this book, you could almost write the pitch just based on the setting: the time, the place, the freaks, the violence, the hidden world, the desperation... it is automatically interesting just because of where and when it is. Want to write another book about someone who lives in an apartment in a trendy neighborhood in a modern city? Good for you. Have fun tweaking that one. Sure, Gruen had to research the hell out of her book, but she wisely chose a deep deep deposit of fuel in which to sink her well.

Lesson #2: Pacing. Water for Elephants has no down time. There is no break in the plot, no difficult middle section, no long period of rising action and building complication. The story goes from peak to peak, escalating constantly from the day the main character sets foot on that train to the very end. Gruen provides relief from the action by switching from the main plot in the past to the framing story in the present, but she never gives us a slow chapter in the circus plot. Looking at the structure and pacing of WFE, you realize that the thing about writing a novel is, you really don't have time for those slow chapters. Are you sitting on a middle section that kinda drags, just because things are "developing"? Are you happy with a plateau in the center of your book? Don't be lazy. Ratchet up the slope of that line that takes you from low start to high finish. Steeper is better. Don't waste time on low energy chapters.

Lesson #3: Transparency. In this book, there are no distractions from the characters, the story, and the world that Gruen is revealing to us. Her prose is not glamorous; it's not fancy. It is effective because it disappears. It's the kind of book you forget you're reading. You think you're listening, and not listening to some pretentious twat rhapsodizing just to hear herself talk, but listening to a story urgently told, every detail important. Instead of witnessing the construction of a narrative, it's like we're seeing a curtain pulled back. The focus is only the story, only the work, and it's so clearly rendered it's like a pane of glass. Any imperfection and you know you're looking through a window. So when you're writing away and you're falling in love with a turn of the phrase, a bit of something you think will be called "lyrical" or whatever, think carefully about whether what you're adding in there is going to show up in that pane of glass, or whether it's going to work to make the view more clear.

Writers, if you're waiting to read Water for Elephants, don't wait any longer. There are more than a few ways to tell a story, but here is a very successful formula for you: 1. Write in an interesting world. 2. Write without pause, relentlessly, every scene amplified and alive. 3. Write transparently. You're not the focus, the words aren't the focus, but the story is the focus.

Labels: book reviews, sara gruen, water for elephants