Just when I thought that Paula had finally found the right combination of prescription drugs, therapists and a genuine fear of Kara DioGuardi to finally awaken to some much needed lucidity, this week only saw the return of Psychotic Paula. Welcome back, you scary, two-headed monster. I knew that you were in there somewhere. FINALLY the question that‘s been on Emilio Estevez‘ and every twelve year old‘s mind has been answered. Answer: Paula keeps coloring books, crayons and countless other art supplies under her dress. You know, when she just has to make an attractive “thinking” hat, or an invitation to the dance party in her head, or when she has to write down the script that her intern and writer provides. “You‘re reliable, undeniable and justifiable” doesn’t just come out of that vacant dome of hers. I have six words for you. You are ridiculously crazy, and I, along with Kara, cannot count.
I have to say that I’m really enjoying the variety of decrepit old mentors they are trotting out this year. Last week, a 76-year old Randy Travis, and this week an ancient Smokey Robinson who is locked in mortal combat with Father Time. He refuses to give in to the old guy. Not only was he relevant more than 82 years ago, but his face has had so many lifts that he’s in a near constant state of surprise. It’s quite alarming. And don’t get me wrong, I like when one of the Godfathers of Motown dresses like he’s late for 7th Grade English class. I was starting to think that Smokey was hipper than a man 60 years younger, and then I watched the results show and saw him shuffle on out and “dance” like he had two broken hips and had missed his morning Metamucil. I’m calling it right now, next week’s guest mentor will be Frank Sinatra. Even though he’s dead, he’ll be able to bring some “raw inspiration” and “relative youth” to the proceedings.
Struggling to Close His Eyes. Can’t… Do…It
Performances That I Actually Remembered
This actually pains me to type. I ENJOYED the fact that Adam was flirting with the bottom 3 last week. It’s only a distant memory now. As this week, the gay vampire decided to became like one of those cockroaches that can adapt to any situation and he turned himself into the gay Elvis impersonator, and survives another day! With a form-fitting gray suit and enough Crisco in his hair to bake several cakes, he continues to give the female population hope that they can turn him straight. I’ve seen this man dance to the vocal stylings of Stevie Wonder, ladies. It’s not happening. However, Adam did take a cue from “How to Win American Idol 101” by performing without the overly loud and overly sucky band, and had a couple of dudes accompanying him on stools and that one guy who plays the bongo on the ground thing. Doing that is straight money. Just ask Katherine McPhee who played “Black Horse and The Cherry Tree” with the drum on the floor guy a couple seasons ago and straight up catapulted herself into the Top Two. Well, played Screechy Screecherson. Obviously you’ve been watching previous seasons. He also decided to leave his slithering, screeching self at home and actually sang for the first time in the whole competition. I hate myself for saying this, but it was actually kind of good. What’s next? Is gravity going to suddenly disappear? Will mashed potatoes now taste better without gravy? I think I may need to take a few days to question my new reality.
The cockroach chamelon. You just can’t kill him.
Best exchange with the guest mentor:
Adam: “So what did you write this song about?” (Trying to get deep inside Smokey’s head.)
Smokey: “I thought, what if someone cried so much that they had actual tracks on their face.” Touches Adam’s face softly to demonstrate.
Adam: “Wow” (as if he had just discovered the secret ingredient in Kentucky Fried Chicken, or witnessed the creation of the Earth.)
Sorry Adam. Smokey apparently just isn’t that deep. (His name is “Smokey” after all. What, “Gaseous cloud” was taken?) Also, “Tears of a Clown” is really about a clown that he saw crying once. That’s it. No metaphors here, Adam.
I really don’t know what else my favorite pink and red haired diva needs to do to get a little respect from Simon. Not only did he say that her excellent song last week was all part of a “terrible week”, but Allison finally gets the coveted pimp spot, she absolutely destroys “Papa Was a Rolling Stone” and instead of Simon giving her an additional few weeks of safety with some sincere complimentation about her “brilliance”, he instead decides to spend his time drawing a mustache on Paula. I realize that you’ve been sitting next to my favorite little punching bag for eight years now and that has to take a toll, but not even a “good job”? Nice. Especially when Kara was close to having an aneurysm she was so excited. It has to be disappointing when one of your favorites, Lil (“the best singer in this compeition) decided against having a moment of her own on what should have been a slam dunk night, but do you have to detract from BringstheHeta like that? Although I readily agree that mustache looks right at home on Abdul’s rather large upper lip, but couldn’t you have decided to paint her face during Blind Dude’s performance?
Looks very natural.Photo Courtesy of ricky.org
I’m putting Matt in this category because of his vocal performance and NOT because of his overly tight jeans. Dude, if I wanted a closeup of your package, I would have gone on Adam’s Facebook page. But I suppose if you’re singing about “getting it on” you have to act like you mean it. To sum up, your vocal performance was excellent, and I even liked when you jumped away from the piano and scared the judges with the view of your thighs. Well played.
I thought you were pretty good again this week. I’ve always been a fan of the Gokey voice, even as it sometimes sounds too Michael McDonald-eque lately. Your problem was you picked an upbeat song. With this crappy band, everything upbeat sounds decidedly mediocre. I did like however, that you attempted to address your fumbling, funny footwork by jumping next to the back up singers and executing some highly difficult high school cheer motions. Bonus points for achieving a high level of cheese.
No need for your last name anymore, Cup of Anoodles. I’ve always been a fan of this song even though it’s soooooo boooooring in stretches. We did get a chance to see you flex your vocal chords, and you proved once again that you can sing. I think it’s interesting that after singing two ballads in a row, the judges now want you to go back to “up-tempo” and “exciting.” Two words that almost got you kicked off during Michael Jackson week. Be like Danny when he ignored Smokey’s advice. Ignore them. All of them. They want to see you fail, especially that British one. The Brits have never liked Indians. I know, I read “The Jungle Book” once, and you’ll always be Mowgli to our little Simon.
This week you were good. You strummed the guitar with passion and aggression. And you had the numbers from “Lost” on your shirt. I can’t remember which song you sang, however.
If Adam did his homework, Lil Rounds did not. Apparently she has never watched this show before. Even my three-year-old knows that you stay far away from “Martha & The Vandellas.” At all costs. Jennifer Hudson, LaKisha Jones and I’m sure someone else have attempted this very same song and were soon chucked into the American Idol trash heap. Also, Lil is still having a hard time getting accustomed to all of this negative criticism. Especially on Motown night, with a new wig! Albeit a wig that looked it had just arrived two minutes before the show from Aunt Stank’s Horrendous Wig and Hair Covering Emporium. Really, couldn’t they spend a couple of bucks and get an actual weave from this century? I have no idea how much Scott’s pink pants cost, but they were infinitely more expensive than this dead cat. And I also think it’s great that they can extend the hair length of our female contestants at will and not expect us to notice. Wednesday: Lil has a shoulder length bob. Thursday: her Fantasia hair is back. Hey wait a minute, what’s going on here? Why would she spend a week growing her hair longer and then just cut it off a day later? As a 12-year old girl and an avowed David Archuleta fan I iz confuzed!
Yeah. It kind of looked like this.
Hi, Megan. I like you. I enjoy seeing what hairstyle you’re going to come up with next and see if you’re going to wear a dress that shows off your A) legs or B) chest pillows. This week: legs. But if this week was an entree at Sizzler, it totally was NOT the malibu chicken. It was more like something with veal. I enjoyed Smokey’s critique of you, “She’s Sooooo…um…(looks to the sky)…pauses…DIFFrent!” ALWAYS a good thing, when they can think of nothing else positive to say. I also like that the contestants are catching on when Paula goes to the “You’re So Beautiful Tonight” card that they just roll their eyes and move on to Simon. Awesome. I was a little worried when you said you were relying on your “fans” to keep you safe, as I can’t figure out who your fans are besides people from Utah and your boy, Ryder Joy Corkrey. Oh, I bet that one blond chick who wore no shoes from Hollywood is voting for you. A lot. And apparently it worked. As you are inexplicably saved and not even in the Bottom Three. Either you DO have fans, or Vote for the Worst actually works.
Oh boy. Where to start? From the Sideshow Bob hair to the pink pants to the horrendous rendition of another treacly song that sounds like something from “The Sunshine Generation” catalog, I am ready for our good friend Scott to take his excitement, enthusisasm and genuine positivity back home where it belongs. He does have an incredible knack for picking songs that are already boring and making them even worse. Kind of like if Steven Hawking were giving a lecture on the proper preparation of mushroom tortellini. It’s exciting while we’re waiting for the water to boil, but only because it’s fun to look at Steven’s shiny wheelchair with all of the electronic doo-dahs and black hole detectors. After about 15 seconds, it’s no longer fun, and oh yeah, the tortellini still tastes like crap. Hopefully America is starting to catch on as he FINALLY took his inspirational story to the Bottom Three. But I hope that Scott was watching listening closely to Stevie Wonder. The difference is that Stevie can actually sing. Even with his weird bald head and braids. Sidebar: I don’t recall him looking like that on Sesame Street thirty years ago.
High Five Him Home Already, Seacrest.
Oil Rig Boy
Ain’t To proud to beg, huh? This has been coming for a few weeks now, and was punctuated with Smokey essentially telling you that you were singing your song like a Girl Scout and that you needed to add some more “punch” and “manliness” to it. That’s got to be nice coming from a guy who can no longer close his eyelids. But the inevitable finally did arrive and swept Sarver off of the plush deck of the American Idol ship to the island of Sanjaya. At least he’ll be around for the tour, which will guarantee him at least three months of non-roughneck employment. Save your paychecks, though Sarver, because I can’t imagine entertainment being your career from here on out. Unless you drive that catering truck to job sites and sing “The sandwiches are here.” I could see that.