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According to … everyone, this audition season has sucked out loud. And I guess it was by design as Ryan informs us they have purposefully saved the “best” for last. Because people always appreciate wading through a month’s worth of garbage to get to the sandwich. Why are they doing everything wrong this year? It did briefly cross my mind that the Idol producers and editors are trying to kill the show since next season Randy will be the only remaining original judge and that will be an utter travesty. If that is the case, maybe one day we will thank them for this. Not right now, though.
Because right now, we have to revisit the only bona fide star to come out of this crappy audition season: my personal hero General Larry Platt, whose relentlessly catchy anti-saggy pants anthem has invited covers from any number of suggestive personalities and attention-seeking YouTubers. That “politician” presumably using it to filibuster should probably be ashamed of himself, though.
So, since the General caught lightning in a bottle with his song choice, we begin this comprehensive episode by focusing on the importance of song choice. And we begin that with JESSICA FURNEY!, my unjustly eliminated early favorite last season. This year we don’t get a revisit to her crazy pill-popping granny; instead she’s got a newer, slicker image – less Janis Joplin and unattended hair, more skinny jeans and hipster belts. At least her voice is still awesome. She sings “Footprints in the Sand,” a terrible song which Simon seems to be ashamed of having co-written, in the same honeyed, slightly smoky voice that won me over but got her sent packing during Hollywood Week last year. “Beautiful song,” Simon says shamefacedly when she finishes. She gets a resounding yes from everyone into Hollywood.
How ‘Bout a Round of Applause?
Our next lesson in being the “best” comes from Amanda Shectman, a 19 year old theater student from a tiny town in New York, and a specialist in the art of getting attention. I bet she has a YouTube page devoted to the spot-on Britney Spears impersonating/ventriloquism act she exhibited for the Idol cameras. Her voice is very nice, and she sings a Dinah Washington song, which would ordinarily be a key to my heart, but you just can’t sing “Good Morning Heartache” like you’re asking someone if they want to make out after the movie. Posh and Kara ding her for that lack of connection to the song, and then Amanda says it’s hard for her because she’s a theater geek. She gets all desperate, and Simon mock her melodrama as she begs to be allowed to try her heart out if they let her through to Hollywood. He then relents and sends her through, and her joy is even more put on than the begging was. Kara invites her to take a bow, and the whole panel showers her with applause as she walks out. She goes on to be insincere some more in the confessional room, but I think she’s toast come Hollywood so who cares.
But attention seeking gimmicks are not only for actresses, as we next meet two people who use their codependent relationships with their guitars as personality crutches; they each drag them into the judging room for moral support even though they can’t use them in the auditions. Lee Dewyze, a townie from Illinois, sings “Ain’t No Sunshine” in a kind of generic blue eyed soul voice, and Crystal Bowersox, a be-dreadlocked blonde from Ohio, sings “Piece of My Heart” in a kind of generic girl-rock voice. Simon seems to be digging them both, and they are both put through to Hollywood.
There’s a cute little segment about all the cool kids faking out their families and friends by hiding their golden tickets under layers of caprice and mischief.
Keep On Keeping On
Post-commercials we move on to our next road to being the “best”: perseverance. We hear from many repeat auditioners how they’re not bitter about being rejected and are bound and determined to prove themselves into Hollywood, and later, our hearts. Kara seems to remember them all; Simon none. I don’t even remember Lacey Brown who auditioned last year and made it all the way to the sing-off stage against Megan Cawkrey, and I’ve dedicated an eighth of my brain cells to remembering everything about this stupid show. We’re not talking about me and my poor choices though. Lacey is indeed a returning contestant, and 23, and a church director from Amarilllo. She sings “Over the Rainbow” in a tinny little voice that is pretty passable. Kind of like Dolly Parton’s voice, except not as distinctive, and not as pleasant. The judges lapped her whole deal up and sent her through with much approval, so we’ll see if she makes it past the chairs this time.
Also back for more, back for a seventh time even, is generously hair-sprayed Stephanie Fisher, 23, from Jamestown, NY, who also unfortunately looks like someone wearing bronzer gloves has punched her in the face. Even though she’s been rejected 6 times before, Stephanie is very confident about this audition, because 7 is her own personal lucky number, due to her having been born at 7 lbs, 7 oz., and living somewhere with 7 in the address. Yeah. She is also in love with both Posh and Simon, so even when they laugh at her for being dressed like a baked potato who is also a burlesque dancer, she doesn’t let it get her down. I think I like her, even though she is a horrible singer.
She does “Fever” in this weird, wobbly voice, and peppers her performance with a lot of kicks and cabaret spins. Simon tells Stephanie she is terrible, and she is kind of adorable as she explains that her utter awe of Posh Spice is putting her off her game. Posh offers to turn around, and then Stephanie sings “Baby Love” in the same bad voice, but honestly a little better. The judges, especially Kara, make her feel ashamed of herself, and she looks on the verge of tears as she asks for a little more time to get “un-nervous.” They deny her, and then Simon heaps on the mortification by suggesting that Posh critique her foil dress. Posh sweetly gets up to give Stephanie a hug, and Randy starts being gross about her clothes too, and then Kara feels outdone or something so she gets up to join the hug circle, thus invalidating its sweetness. They then have the gall to ask her to come back in the center and be judged, but she says, “Nah,” and walks out. Yeah, I really do like her. Not as a singer though. Never as that.
Bigger and Better
Now we deal with the babies who came straight from their Sweet Sixteens to stand in those crowded arenas with their dreams spilling out everywhere. According to Ryan, this year’s crop of sixteen year olds brought some of the best talent ever. We fly past Rachel Hubbard of Texas, who got a nod of approval from one of the Jonas Bots, to booming-voiced Thaddeus Johnson of OKC, who gave Neil Patrick Harris a very satisfied smile, and then to Genesis Moore from Georgia, whose very pretty rendition of Carrie Underwood’s “I Told You So” actually got Randy to look like an original idea was passing through his head. She’s talented for sure.
The next theme is very tall and athletic people, which parade of somersaults and high kicks leads us to a hulking husk of sad little apple-cheeked geek named Adrian Chandtchi, who at only 17 years old is 6 feet 8 inches. His swimming coach calls him The Big Kahuna. “I have a lot of nicknames,” he says very innocently, as the cameras follow him to the pool he shares that some have called him Blondzilla, but he thinks of himself as “a beautiful Manflower.” I don’t want to dwell on this. He sings “Fools Rush In,” the judges are horrible to him because his tender voice doesn’t match his hulking frame, and they laugh at him and patronize him and whatever.
Still on the athlete tip, Big Muscle Mike Lynche is a personal trainer and he and his wife are expecting a baby girl, and he sings “Unchained Melody” in a very indifferent voice. If you can remember Brandon Rogers, you can know exactly what Big Mike sounds like. But, the judges loved Brandon back then, and they love Big Mike now. Good for him.
Cry for Me,ArgentinaAmerica!
And now a girl whose best friend died four years ago. It really is as abrupt a transition as that in the actual show. Didi Benami lost her best friend and is now auditioning in her honor. I don’t know how that even works, but maybe I’m just not a good enough person to know how that makes sense. Imagine lots of pictures of bubbly-looking white teen girls with white teeth, smiling and being happy, and imagine Didi crying at that memory, and at the memory of how her BFF always supported her dream. It’s the show that wants you to do all this, by the way. She goes teary-eyed but composed into the audition room, and sings “Hey Jude,” which she says is a last-minute choice. Didi sounds a lot like Adele, which is nothing but a compliment. When she finishes, Kara says, “You really want it bad,” which causes Didi to immediately break down into tears. The panel talks her through her pain and then she gets through to Hollywood, even with only “a very small yes” from Simon.
Sob stories have now of course been made so subliminal by this horrible, wonderful show that all of life is a sob story for every one of us. You should be crying right now, because anything and everything that ever happens in life is a reason to feel incredibly sorry for someone. So sorry that you root for them to eventually be taken advantage of and exploited by evil corporate overlords.
Let’s now listen to the melancholy strings and muted piano of sorrow as we meet a kid whose sad story is that he grew up poor. Little Aaron Kelly got taken in by his aunt and uncle when he was very young because his parents were so very poor. Yup. He jumps into the pool of bootstrappy resilience that the show has so nicely picked out for him by singing nothing less than “The Climb” in a very serviceable voice that’s nothing to write home about but that might get some fingers dialing when paired with his frosted hair and boyish smile.
In the middle of this sadness of poverty sandwich is Kimberly Bishop, who appears briefly in blue-black hair, purple eye shadow and a slip to do “I Kissed a Girl” in a ridiculous way, and be ridiculed for her ridiculousness. Also there is Shaddai Harris, whose mother must have been high on estrogen when she hallucinated during her pregnancy that her daughter would be a fantastic singer. She is not.
That wacky detour over, we’re firmly back on the poverty train. Hope Johnson grew up in a great big Texas family, tragically without great big Texas bucks. She shares her sad story of bringing home her school lunches to give to her younger brother, but endearingly Hope says, “I’m sure a lot of people struggle with that kind of thing.” Yeah, somewhere around 40 million. Oh, America.
Hope lived up to her name by always believing that things would get better if you made it through the night. “There’s a lot worse things than going without,” she says, and with that remark I’m already seeing a lengthy Hollywood montage of Hope and our little Tennessee bridge jumper whose name I have forgotten, looking giddy and buddying up together to appreciate riding aeroplanes and seeing L.A. the way only a couple of poor hick girls can. As a poor hick girl myself, I’m looking forward to it. So forward that I’ve completely skipped Hope’s audition. But all that matters is she sang “I Hope You Dance” in a very pretty voice and seriously impressed the judges who are now considering her as their personal savior. Yay for Hope.
And yay for us, because the auditions are over! Hooray! Next week we finally make it to Hollywood, where surely much drama awaits among the 181 lucky ticket getters who made it through this grueling process. And Ellen will finally be there, so be sure to tune in next week as I and MsFroggy discover whether we have more Kara-esque horror or more Paula-esque wonder in store from her.
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