AI Top 12: (No) Star Is Born

AI Top 12: Cheaper By The Dozen

I couldn’t bring myself to recap the elimination last week, Thursday, because what’s done is done (and, to put it into prospective, I couldn’t even ante up anything post-Top 7 last season’s debacle, or recap the finale of the season before that). And the thought of having to write about the Top 13s ghastly Michael Jackson tribute or Diddy’s nonsensical “advice”, reduces me to a state of stupefaction (though Adam Lambert was a nice reprieve from all the muck). So, let’s just say that, in Ashthon Jones’ expulsion, the means justified the end. It wasn’t a shock and it wasn’t a stunner.

In fact, the only ‘surprise’ was that I had not an iota of an idea that this year would resurrect the dreaded and universally reviled “Judges Save”. Made me thisclose to wanting to forgo this whole season!

Yeah, right.

I watch because I want to. I listen because I have to. To merely bear witness to what’s on stage is such an assiduous, exhaustive task (I do it for you, my loves) I can’t bring myself to a repeat viewing. So, if not for Rickey (and a scant few other blogs) – who post the video and audio clips almost as they happen – I wouldn’t have the ability to judge merely with my critical ear. I certainly can’t – or, rather, prefer not to – judge a book by its cover or one single live performance. That’s the judges’ jobs. And that’s why they’re wrong most of the time, even when they’re right.

Though I have neither the patience nor time, we at home have the luxury – thanks to the modern wizardry of TiVo or, in most cases, DVR – of instant rewind, to re-experience if a performance touches us (one way or the other). The panel possesses no such luck – they judge on spur-of-the-moment reaction, as the majority of viewers do. I know I’m in the minority, but when I ‘critique’ these kids, I can’t on one viewing, so, as I mentioned, thanks to Rickey, I can listen as I write.

There have been seasons past where Simon copped to his error in judgment (though far too few) and would say as much the next evening/week. Randy actually did so tonight, which is a rarity. With all the fodder and crap they fill the elimination show with on a weekly basis, what a thrilling precedent they would set if a section of elimination night was actually spent on the panel revisiting their previous night’s errs…a next day public apology, so to speak, for profoundly incorrect praises of the preceding performance night!

I know. Wishing for that is like wishing for chocolate air.

Usually, having Randy articulate anything eloquent is akin to believing that Maury Povich possesses a moral conscience. But, I’ll be damned if his astuteness hasn’t been on the mark lately (sometimes). As expected with his inanities, that’s atypical. While Randy and even Jennifer (who started the season as “The Judge Who Can’t Be Critical”) are making progress (especially Lopez), it’s Tyler who has jetted from reality into Abduland and is fast becoming – if he’s not already landed with a thud there – this season’s Rock N Roll joke to end all Rock N Roll jokes. And that’s a shame, considering he started the season with such exuberance. To Tyler, everything is beautiful in its own way…

Tonight’s “Songs From The Year You Were Born” theme (“Born This Way”?), saw the panel’s hypocrisy in full throttle, rightfully calling out pitch issues with some contestants, but blatantly giving a pass to the same, if not worse, offenders. It’s becoming increasingly clear that, despite the contrary chirping, there’s an agenda-a-brewing (see Lauren and Jacob).

Naima Adedapo (1984)
Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got To Do With It”
My grade: C

One mark of a great singer does not have to include being a great vocalist, but it does entail being a halfway decent interpreter. Naima started off the season as a powder keg; never the finest singer of the Top 24, she possesses something that few of the remaining finalists have – and that’s intuitive soul. What’s truant is a needed – and missed – spirit, which she confuses with a tropism for fame. It would be unfortunate if her promise of depth was all but lost with this one cacophonous display. When Tyler told Adedapo that she had a “sorcerer’s grasp of melody”, he wasn’t kidding. Unfortunately.

Paul McDonald (1984)
Elton John’s “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues”
My grade: C-

His built-in voting block will come out in droves for their Idol, but with his hilariously awful punch-drunk lurching and his sandpaper pipes perpetually on 78rpm, he’s an anomaly slowly wearing out his welcome. Too little pop, not enough rock and way, way too much roll.

Thia Megia (1985)
Vanessa Williams’ “Colors Of The Wind”
My grade: B-

I want to love this girl, really I do. She’s endowed with a gorgeous, supple tone, and as she ages, that instrument can only improve. And she sure is beautiful. But she’s also a total bore. A voice so un-frayed shouldn’t be so unresponsive to the emotion of song, though this week there’s at least an excuse for her detachment – Megia’s song selection, clearly the most flaccid of the Disney canon. But what will be her excuse be next week? What was it last week? Not one to express fiery determination, her dependency on her lack of lissomness will do her in. But, she sure is beautiful.

James Durbin (1989)
Bon Jovi’s “I’ll Be There For You”
My grade: B

I can hear the uproar already, but I quickly dismissed Durbin’s “saving Aerosmith for the finale” as not boastful presumptuousness, but more like animated enthusiasm from a talented lad living out his Rock n Roll fantasies. I moved on, so should you. Had Durbin given his worst tonight, I couldn’t totally fault him. After all, for someone with a decades-long allergy to Bon Jovi’s welfare Springsteenian leanings, it’s never pleasant for me to have to endure even the most talented singers performing the King of Schlock Rock’s cliché-ridden catalogue. So, I’ll cut the kid some slack, again, specifically because he once again curbed his predisposition to over-sing, and balanced the right quantity of power and purity. But I docked a + because, for all his clarity, there lacked a deep-rooted connection, distancing the singer from the song. Now, whether that was because music rarely gets more shallow than Bon Jovi or not is an unanswerable inquiry I can’t bother with. Bottom line, it negated any allure, leaving an indifference I’m not sure Durbin understood.

Haley Reinhard (1990)
Whitney Houston’s “I’m Your Baby Tonight”
My grade: C+

If Reinhart stops playing grown up for a moment, she might realize that, despite what her friends and family tell her, she’s nowhere in the same league as any other finalist on that stage, hence, audacious for her to aim for a Whitney echelon she can’t possibly – ever, in this lifetime – reach. Not satisfied with being an Idol trifle, she overreaches beyond comprehension and vision. Surprisingly, though, in its own anemic way, this was the least offensive of Reinhart’s weekly performances. I mean, of the ones that I can remember.

Stefano Langong (1989)
Simply Red’s “If You Don’t Know Me By Now”
My grade: B+

Perhaps the judges oversold Langone’s perfectly suitable and lovely rendition of one of my favorite songs of all time; there’s such a rhythmic intensity in his delivery that you could forgive the few discordant moments he manages to blurt (though his clipping the edges off the lines of verse is getting to be a distraction). I can’t help but feel, though, that if the key was transposed one half-note lower, this could’ve been on par with Elliott Yamin’s “A Song For You” from season 5. It’s good to know that we can rely on such boyish vulnerability in a season of mush. Even if it’s boy-bandish vulnerability.

Pia Toscano (1988)
Whitney Houston’s “Where Do Broken Hearts Go?”
My grade: B+

Only a boob with a tin ear would deny the burliness of Pia’s voice and its broad range. But, I swear on a stack of Sondheim soundtrack’s that she’s not the second coming of Streisand. Not that she claimed such platitudes, of course, though I’m weary of this panel’s histrionic praise for otherwise pervasive skill. Still, it signifies no emotional correlation, which is tiresome. Settling for the performance of the night, for a second week, isn’t too shabby a deal, I surmise, and it’s her contest to lose. I’d dock a grade for the insipid Disco soundtrack, but that wouldn’t be fair to Pia.

Scott McCreery (1995)
Travis Tritt’s “Can I Trust You With My Heart”
My grade: B

Idol’s Country music addicts should find his brew of youth and obvious passion refreshing – as I’ve often said, he’s as validly Country as Idol’s ever gotten. Scott’s weakness is his middle range, where he seems to have trouble directing the melody’s flow succinctly and evenly. Despite the judges’ excitement at McCreery’s “taking chances”, it was merely another routine, albeit, solid week with nary a risk in site, which is all a good neo-traditionalist would strive for anyway. Perhaps, even an Idol reprobate would find it hard not to love. Or, at least, love to hate.

Karen Rodriguez (1989)
Taylor Dayne’s “Love Will Lead You Back”
My grade: C+

While an infinitely finer singer than Haley, it was a mindless for Rodriguez to choose, like Haley, a big voiced balladeer without the power supply. Without a grasp of weight in her rather thin pipes, Karen summons up enough staid loveliness for the otherwise lethargic verses, but the crescendo of the chorus deflates into a restrained whine, evaporating the mood and the melody…while Randy yells, “Welcome back!”, NyQuil files for Chapter 11.

Casey Abrams (1991)
Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”
My grade: C+

He’s neither Idol’s savior nor fool, merely a congruent of both, and, of course, talented – which is all I ask of my saviors and fools. But perhaps, I must also ask, is he talented enough? I was licking my lips in anticipation for Casey’s Nirvana homage since Nigel announced it earlier in the day – as a Jazz fan, would he dare bring out his stand up bass and give us this season’s “moment” by incorporating his influences? Perhaps a cover of The Bad Plus’ free-form Jazz version from a few years ago? Perhaps a bassist rendition of Tori Amos’ 1992 piano-laden interpretation? We should be so lucky. He’ll be equally commended and denounced with uniform fervor for taking a “risk” on the national anthem of grunge, but really, what risk was there? To me, it was more a curio than anything else. In lieu of Kurt Cobain’s dichotomy of fury and spirituality, Abrams displayed an unintentional farcical overtone that negates the guts of Cobain’s métier. Smells like something, all right.

Lauren Alaina (1994)
Melissa Etheridge’s “I’m The Only One”
My grade: C+

It wouldn’t be fair to suggest that Lauren is too young and inexperienced to comprehend the emotional complexities of Melissa Etheridge. Firstly, despite her legend, there’s nothing complex about Etheridge – her lyrics are as shallow as her overwrought clichés are mammoth. Secondly, many a young ingénue has tackled far more intricate and multifaceted songs in Idol’s history, including season 8 Top 4 finalist Allison Iraheta, who was continually thrown under the proverbial bus by Simon for weeks despite powerhouse recitals of emotional catharses, and exemplary, supernatural vocals. So, let’s call a spade a spade here. In tonight’s first blatant attempt at favoritism, Alaina was not only given the Ryan Sit Down (fair enough, they all do at some point), but her illness was the focal point of conversation, complete with props (illustrated surgical masks! With lips drawn on them! Yay!), with Alaina playing up the flirtatious damsel as cum-hither passivity for all its worth (Seacrest is sooo the wrong target, girly). And despite her warbling most of the melody, despite the constant, confounding fluctuations of her see-sawing register, they gave her high marks for “staying true” to the “framework”, with Randy even citing so far that “Have a cold every week!” It reeked of musical venality.

Jacob Lusk (1987)
Heart’s “Alone”
My grade: D

“Amazing!” “Genius!” “In it to win it!” were three of the superlatives thrust upon Lusk’s ear-splitting, demonic Tocsin-infused variation of Heart’s “Alone” by the judges, to assure us that we be mortal fools for not getting it. In absolute truth, the only “amazing” thing about this 90 second horror movie musical (coming soon to a theater near you: SAW X: AI MASSACRE!) was another barefaced example of casuistry – as the cameraman caught JLo’s look of repulsion at one of Lusk’s (many) excrements, she had the audacity to ignore this in her feedback, gushing “You give yourself completely to every performance!!!” Tyler exclaimed that gospel had a baby and named it “Jacob Lusk”. Between all the calamity and gobbledygook, the moniker Lusky Stank came out of Jacob’s mouth. He wasn’t kidding.