American Idol Recap 1/24/06 - Let's Not Go Back Anytime Soon Now, Y'Hear?

[Amanda]

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Before we look back at last night's show, ladies and gentlemen, look back with me a bit further, will you? Back to the evening of May 21st, 2003. Back to the evening of my 29th birthday. Back to the evening I got everything I had ever hoped for out of a birthday, with the exception of that pony which has been eluding me for 20-odd years. The evening that my beloved Ruben Studdard beat out Clay Aiken for the title of your American Idol. It was a glorious night, and not only because I'd had some really fantastic German drinks immediately preceding the stunning upset. You see, I'm a Buffalo Bills fan. My favorites never win anything, but they're damned good at coming in second. To have Ruben take the title, well, that evening capped off my love affair with this show, and I haven't watched an episode since. Why try to improve upon perfection, you know?

Unfortunately, apparently I did not know. And now I'm afraid that all of my pleasant memories have been superseded by the steaming pile of badness that was the Greensboro, North Carolina auditions. Ventriloquists and crack whores and gummy bears, oh my!

I Sleep All Night And I Work All Day
We stepped in it right from the get-go with Sabrina, the teenaged 26 year old witch lumberjack woman. Husky, overconfident, vaguely (maybe not so vaguely) masculine. Flirtatious. She gives Simon her bedroom eyes, he shoots her back a pair of rolling ones. She belts out a bastardized version of an old classic, bellowing "Lean on me, 'til you're not strong!" This somewhat defeats the purpose of the leaning, no? She finishes strong - and by strong I mean poorly - with some Elvis gyrations. Simon proclaims her "More Jerry Springer than American Idol." She finds this offensive, sputtering "I don't take my clothes off!" Thank God for small miracles. After a unanimous thumbs down from the judges, she re-emerges into the waiting area, letting the hopefuls know that Simon is, indeed, the prick he's made out to be. She shares his Jerry Springer comment, and if anyone jumped to her defense, they were drowned out by the peals of laughter coming from the other 99.9% of the room.

Cachet is next on the scene, and while she admits that she's just a "shower singer", she believes herself to be the total package. Hmm, yeah, not quite, in that she's missing that one crucial element: singing talent. Nice enough girl, but not so much with the singing.

The first bright spot of the evening came in the form of one Ms. Kelly Pickler. Well, finally. Isn't this exactly what they came to the south hoping to find? They could have grown this one in a lab: teen-aged blonde cuteness all wrapped up in a tragic family bow. Mama done took off when she was but knee high to a grasshopper, and daddy's serving time in the big house (she doesn't come right out and SAY it was crystal meth, but come on, we're all grownups here.) She works as a roller skating waitress and lives with a granddaddy who you just know refers to it as the war of Northern aggression. The little girl can actually sing, though. Well, she can actually over-sing, but I suppose that's remedied easily enough. (Given that I have zero singing ability, in my mind that problem is solved with a simple "Hey, stop doing that.") Paula calls her infectious, lending credence to the theory I've hypothesized about for years: perkiness IS a disease. Welcome to Hollywood, Chicken-fried Barbie.

Honestly, I'd Really Rather Have The Candy
It wasn't going to stay good forever, though. We all knew it. We're introduced to Shawn; Shawn of the sign and the little brother: Shawn claims to be 17. I call shenanigans. This guy is 35 if he's a day. Tuxedo, hair that doesn't quite make the statement it wants to make, and the heaviest set of brows this side of The Blue Lagoon. Shawn wants to bring back standards. At first I misunderstood him, and I was all about his quest. Unfortunately he wasn't trying to steer the show away from fluttery-eyed lounge acts, but toward Standards with a capital S. Like, music from musicals and the such. Look, I understand the wanting-to-stand-out deal. I really do. But for the love of God, man, let your talent set you apart, not your schtick. And not your obnoxious kid brother. After what was described as an utterly average performance reminiscent of a singing waiter in a low-rent restaurant, Shawn is sent packing and I realize that perhaps American Idol and I are on the same page when it comes to the small-s standards.

If a marshmallow peep ever came to life in the form of a human girl, it would be Rhonda Jones. She has country mouse voice...and maybe a little bit of a lazy eye? Sweet little girl, sweet little flowered cowboy shirt, sweet little - well, no, heinously ugly - pink cowboy hat. She sings a Backstreet Boys song. She's terrible, and it's one of those "damn it, I know we need to shoot Old Yeller, but it really sucks" moments. She pleads with the judges not to eliminate her just yet, squeaking that she "wants this more than a whole bag of gummy bears." Is this girl for real? I mean, a) come on now, and b) mmm, gummy bears! Simon, Randy and Paula aren't particularly happy about it, but they pull the trigger on Rhonda. As she comes out, she asks Ryan for a hug to make her feel better. Unless she's lifting his wallet, I fail to see how that's going to help.

American Idol enjoys showcasing contrasting personalities, so next we meet Sgt. Stephen David, Jr. He blows right past garden-variety cocky into straight up cocksure arrogance. He's charismatic, attractive, and a military man, which, let's face it, we're down south now, and that's never going to hurt him in this neck of the woods. He starts out with a little bit of a poor man's LL Cool J impression, doing some lip-licking fake drool action aimed at Paula (because unless you're a fan of beef jerky with legs, that had to be fake), but I have to admit that the man can walk the walk when it comes to the singing. He can sing the sing. Or something. Granted, he chooses "Let's Get It On" which couldn't be much smarmier of him, but he pulls it off. And in pulling it off, he pulls Paula up on her feet to dance with him, at Randy and Simon's insistence. As they give him the big thumbs up to Hollywood, he walks out of the room with Paula in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist. Um, okay. The fact that his wife was waiting on the other side of the door should have made that weird...and it did. But that's just how Sgt. Davis rolls, boys and girls. Big Pimpin, y'all!

It's time for "community caregiver" Halicia, mother of an 11 year old. She's singing the theme to Lisa Bonet vehicle "A Different World" (though you and I both know the show was just so all about Whitley and Dwayne Wayne). Simon calls her a natural talent, and says he likes her as a human being. I know it's been years since I've seen the show, but that's easily the nicest thing I ever remember him saying to someone. After a yes from Randy, an "oh yes!" from Simon and a "Hallelujah!" from Paula, Halicia is through to Hollywood. Aww, that's nice. She seems like good people.

Plenty Of Sunshine Heading My Way
Atlanta Boys Choir alum and Dippity Do aficionado Donny thinks he's the next great undiscovered talent. He's not. His mother, who has accompanied him to the audition, hasn't listened to him sing in over a decade. I couldn't possibly be more jealous. Donny goes home, we move on.

Kendra Winston's story is more compelling. She's an orphan who, through her short life, has been in 42 different foster homes. A divorced single mother of three who has been putting herself through college, she's had to pick up the pieces more times than any one person should ever need to. If what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, this girl bench presses Buicks. But while that's all well and good, can she sing? If her rendition of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" is any indication - and why wouldn't it be? - she can. Or at least she can well enough to get two out of three yes votes, so Kendra's on her way west.

Kenneth "Chase" Bush is ready to sing, ready to go to Hollywood, ready to knock your ass over to get the last Krispy Kreme. His face has a decidedly Cabbage Patch doll look about it, if Cabbage Patch dolls were older, shinier and even rosier-cheeked. His chin does this sort of weird up-turning thing, like the Mac the Knife moon from the old McDonald's commercials. I'll tell you people the truth: I was going to skip over this guy and just not recap him at all. I was as done with Chase as Chris Cooper was done with fish in Adaptation (how's that for an awkwardly placed and semi-obscure pop culture reference? But seriously, great movie, go rent it.) As it turned out, though, Chase charmed the judges, sang pretty damn well, and made it through.

Filler. Simon doesn't want to be rude. Ryan doesn't want to be short. I don't want to watch anymore.

Chonna (pronounced "Shawna") lives up to her stripper name by showing up in a stripper ensemble, procured for her by her stripper mother at a lingerie show, which was possibly organized by strippers. She's rocking a pink leopard fringed number, topped off with a black chiffon (I'm lying, I don't know fabrics. It could have been whatever the opposite of chiffon is, but it was see-through) cape, a studded dog collar, and some Cleopatra-esque eyeliner. She's like what might have happened to Stevie Nicks had she not gotten some breaks early on. She wasn't terrible, but she's still a no. She'll be okay. The family business is always open for some new recruits.

First day almost over, more filler, no to some people, yes to some others. "Plenty of Fantasias, but where are all the Clays?" Wait, there might be more than one of him? Way to chill me right to the very depths of my soul, RYAN. People get nervous, filler filler filler, "he doesn't have famous clothes", haughty put-downs, more filler.

I Thought You Had To Fill Out Some Sort Of Form For That...?
Jeffrey "Ryan" Baysden gets some facetime. I have to ask, after Kenneth "Chase" Bush, and now this guy, what IS this Southern habit of giving yourself a name that has zero to do with your actual name? To wit: I was in Atlanta not all that long ago. I was driving on a stretch of highway named for James E. "Billy" McKinney. It's just so random. Yes, my name is Amanda, but please call me Charlene. Thank y'all kindly. Anyway, "Ryan" actually has quite a nice voice, which he showcases by singing Broken Road. He's very country, and it's hard for me to imagine him having much range, but I have no clue what I'm talking about, and maybe he'll be wonderful. We'll find out when we see him in Hollywood.

Fantasia Barrino relative Cedric is next, and before they give away his dubiously exciting connection to the former winner, we were supposed to guess to whom he was related. I thought I nailed it with Warren Sapp. With that in mind, because, really, he could have been his body double, try to imagine how utterly surreal it was to hear him sing "Chain of Fools" in a falsetto that would have made Dave Matthews say "DAMN, man, you need to bring that down a little bit." The judges pass on Cedric, and he nickel D's it back to wherever it is he came from.

The highlight of my evening comes in the form of a 17 year old girl named Paris Bennett. Her grandmother, who has accompanied her, is the Grammy award winning Ann Nesby. I've never heard of her myself, but according to Randy, she's "one of the greatest singers in the known world". We can't be sure what powerhouse vocalist is hanging out near an as-yet-unexplored hydrothermal vent deep in the heart of the Pacific, but yes, as far as the known world goes, this Ann Nesby woman is apparently right up there. Oh, she was the lead singer for Sounds of Blackness. Okay, now I'm on the trolley. Anyway, this is not about Ann Nesby. For ONCE. Paris's speaking voice is that of a little girl's, but when she sings (a Dixie Chicks song, for some reason), she's all woman. Really, she's far and away the best I've heard all night. She sings a second song, a Billie Holiday one this time, and this one is also incredible. She's fabulous, and she's so enthusiastically given a yes to Hollywood that I'm surprised they didn't just shut down the auditions then and there. She managed to knock herself in the head with the door on the way out of the room (don't ask), but we'll just pretend we didn't see that.

Day one roundup: 24 tickets to Hollywood. Damn. We're really only through one day of this?

Day #2 Lives Up To Its Number
We plod our way into day #2, and it's Simon's birthday. How nice for us that we have the chance to watch him cut his cake. Filler? No thank you, I've already had seconds and thirds. No, really, I'm full. Oh, you're not asking, you're telling? Well, in that case...

The first substantial footage of the day begins with Marcus Behling, who has won "approximately" ten talent shows, but in the last year has won "approximately" three talent shows. Yeah Marcus. Me too. I mean, I've won none, but that's approximately three. When he begins to sing, he has the strange habit of holding the notes way longer than they should be held. What they need is that Cedric guy from yesterday to come back and tackle him mid-note, hopefully pushing him into the next stanza. Marcus's audition lasted for 43 minutes, and he got out 6 words. When he came up for air, Simon asked if he had ever had any vocal training. "I have Paula and Randy's dvd" was the reply, making Simon the happiest man alive. I'm not going to lie, I laughed too. If you all want to pretend you don't know me anymore, I assure you I'll understand. Marcus was sent home. Luckily he just happened to have a hammer on him, so we got some spontaneous footage of him smashing the aforementioned dvd. Isn't it awesome when those totally unplanned things happen in front of cameras? Ah, technology.

Oh, more filler? Yes please. Personality, whee! Flips, kung-fu, giant boobs, novelty sunglasses.

And we're back. Jimmy Crabtree sings this Broken Road song that "Ryan" sang earlier. Is this song popular or something? What the hell is a Rascall Flats? Anyway, despite his assurances that he's highly outgoing and personable, Jimmy never looks up from the floor and shuffles back home after three no votes.

In contrast, Sammy Nabors is trying really hard to be outrageous. He's "raw" (his words.) He's "unwatchable" (my words.) I fast-forwarded through Sammy, and I suggest you all follow my lead and pretend that he just never happened, k? When someone has to work that hard at being different, it's because they are, at their core, as typical and tedious as they come. I can't devote any time to that.

Tyra Juliette Schwartz has been having a rough time of it. Surgery and cheating boyfriends have left her feeling down, and she's hoping this audition will be what perks her back up. She sings "In The Still Of The Night", it's good, she has a nice voice. I personally feel very "meh" about her, but okay, she's through.

Rock Your Body
More filler in the form of a montage. Are you KIDDING me with this right now? Why not just have a one-hour show, FOX?!? Great. Some white boy sings Michael Jackson badly and forgets the words. We've never seen anything like that before. Except we have, and it was called Superbowl XXXVIII. Moving along...

Singing firefighter, Paula says yes, Simon says yes, Randy says no. Amanda says that they're really scraping the bottom of the barrel and refills her drink.

All night long they've been "preparing" us for Rhonetta. Rhonetta is a woman who unfortunately embodies every negative stereotype the media likes to make sure we're inundated with about black women, as evidenced by every daytime talk show in history. It's insulting as hell, if we want to examine it from a cultural anthropology standpoint. But this is American Idol, we're almost at the end of the show, and frankly I'm just too out of steam to pull my soapbox out right now. Suffice it to say that Rhonetta is loud, obnoxious and wearing glittery hooker clothes that leave far too little to the imagination. Blonde wig, hazel contacts, silver go-go boots, a belly ring that's hanging on for dear life. Oh whatever, we get it, she's not self-aware. She sings Mary J. Blige, and now I'm just pissed. Forget that little mini-socioeconomic rampage I almost just went on. I loves me some Mary J. Blige, especially her old stuff. Don't mess with "You Remind Me", girly. Thankfully she stops herself (my powers of ESP are so awesome), and complains that she's a little hoarse. Paula offers her some "bubbly water". Aw, that's cute. I mean that she calls her Wild Turkey "bubbly water", not the gesture itself. Anyway, she gets three no votes, and loses her mind. Well, she doesn't so much lose her mind as she complains loudly once she's outside the audition room. "I guarantee you if me and Paula Abdul were to walk outside, nobody would even know she was a celebrity." You put Brad Pitt next to the wreckage of the Hindenburg, nobody's going to be checking him out at that moment either. "It don't matter because you best believe that when I get there, I'm setting the city on fire." Whatever honey. That happened where I live once too, and it was accomplished by an animal that sits around chewing its cud all day. I mean, seriously? That's what the two hours of buildup was for? Whatever. Greensboro, I'm disappointed in you.

After the final commercial break, we find out that only 9 total people were pushed through to Hollywood on day 2. This isn't as bad as it sounds, though, since, due to Marcus, only 14 people actually had the chance to audition before the venue had to close for the evening.

And that, my friends, is that. Tonight's show will be taking place in San Francisco, California, and I can only assume the Rice a Roni will be plentiful. We can only hope.

Paula Abdul is way more famous than I am. amanda@fansofrealitytv.com

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