Stayin' Alive

Well, being the ever-prepared woman that I am, you can guess what I did when I first got word that Lakisha was due to sing "Stayin' Alive" on last night's show. And by the way, if you're ever in the market for cheap used televisions, Craigslist is most definitely the way to go. I felt buying a backup would be the only responsible thing to do, given the unlikelihood that I wouldn't search and destroy my latest television in disappointment -- not with the producers this time, but with my big-boned beloved herself. Hearing it in my head, I could see no other way for this selection to go other than toilet-ward -- it reminisces of Latin-inspired night, wherein such band-heavy classics leave little to no room to shine as a vocalist. Barry Gibbs has made millions off of just that kind of finagling, but Kiki? She needs ROOM, no? A lotta room, yes? Well, it turns out I have more than I expected to say about that performance, and what it reflected about the remaining contestants as a whole, despite what SPR and the ganja Blake gives them to smoke would have you believe.

Barry's teeth were usually getting in the way of whatever I was supposed to hear him say, but when I wasn't psychotically stopping the blood flow in my fingers with floss, I did hear a few gems. And by gems I mean shitstorms of useless pandering that helped no one and insulted many. Obviously the sequin-studded romantic getaway with Jordin he dreamt up left a mark, because from what I can tell, the teeth were talking about her being the greatest thing in music since, oh, I dunno, 7:59pm last night. Too bad she lived up to so little of what Gibb said that it made her look more amateur than ever before, and almost gave me the gall stones Blake gives me when I think about what it would mean for him to win American Idol. Weirdly enough, I felt less contempt than I usually would for that much overblown hype, but it's clear as to why. No one, not even Useless Abdul herself, was buying that Gibb-erish (hehe), with the exception of her doting rich-from-football parents. Unlike Blake, who can amass incomprehensible support from not only SPR but a good portion of the country through dance-heavy and vocally-light romps, Jordin isn't anywhere near the predecessors of her past, far away from them as ever last night. But more on that later. The point is, I realized something very unsettling about Idol last night; something that I have never felt in any prior season.

Whoever wins this season is the least inspiring Idol to date. Kiki and DooAlot included. The whole of last night, I kept waiting for someone to blow it out the park. To make me cry like Elliott, Fantasia, and George Huff did virtually every week. To make me jump up and down and clap like a seal the way Taylor did whenever he got his Doobie Borthers on. To make me say, "I don't like the chick that much, but that shit was hot" as Kat McPhee did while sitting on the floor. Or, even to make me appreciate rockers as much as I appreciate the more technically challenging vocal stylings of their counterparts, a la Bo and Chris Daughtry. But this year? There's nothing more than "Will they come to play tonight, or won't they"? And that kind of uncertainty is not what you expect from someone we are going to crown as the best, most commercially appealing singer in America two weeks from now. You want life-changing power, you want brilliance, and at the very least, you want what Carrie and Kelly bring -- consistency with a cute face. (Okay, okay, I know calling Kelly cute is really the overstatement of the year, but I'm feeling generous so just go with it would ya). This year? The only deserving winner (as I've said before) is the most consistent, but where's the endearment? Where are the tears? It's like watching Gladys Knight compete on American Idol; she's not surprised, we're not suprised, and if there's no hope for the unexpected, there's no hope for inspiration. It's a tough sell no matter how this year slices the final four, but my heart is aching for something more - and I'm not going to get it until this May has long past.

That said, we have 8 gigs to complain about. So here's the sauce:

1. Melinda did only somewhat better than her worst performance to date, which, surprise surprise, took place on Latin-themed aka Jennifer-Lopez-Is-Not-Very-Talented night. It didn't do much of anything really -- it wasn't awful because she's incapable of awful, and it wasn't great...it was just there. She lost track of tempo in a few spots, which certainly didn't help, but even she looked bored to tears. And although she's the best of the bunch, that wasn't title-worthy by any stretch. I would have more to say about it if I cared, but I stopped investing in whatever was going on about 2.5 seconds in. Simon summed it up. Where were all the slapped mamas? Nowhere to be found with that snoozefest.

2. Then Blake cooked up something so rancid and spine-breaking, I've already booked my full-body sugar scrub with the spa nearby to cleanse myself of that event. I mean I love gambling as much as the next dude, but is it even humanly possible to go from such a winning hand to this disgrace in the span of seven days? Now don't get me wrong - his hand has never once looked "winning" to me as much as fugly and mangled, but there have at least been times (like last week) where I could say, "Aight, a lot of poorly educated people loved freak shows at one time, so this isn't a far cry from that tree". But this time? THIS?? There's no word in any language that could encompass the horror of that effort. Not one aspect of it was enjoyable, and the "beatboxing" segment made me wish I were catching a cat's hairball before it hit the ground over that. It was so bad, I almost wanted Chris Sligh back. I repeat: IT WAS SO MINDBOGGLINGLY BAD, I WANTED THE VAMPIRE KING OF TRANSYLHEINOUS BACK ON MY SCREEN. After the shower I took following the performance, I thought to myself, "Well, at least they have 2 songs". Luckily for me, that didn't matter in Skaterboy's undeserved case.

3. Now, as I've already mentioned, I was highly disturbed by Kiki's song choice this time around. And I would have put a lot of money on it that her plane was going to crash and burn worse than we've seen in awhile. But believe me when I say that she surprised the hell outta me, despite what SPR had to say about it. Sure, it wasn't her best, and it surely wasn't outstanding by any stretch, but amazingly enough, it actually came across as a "performance", with vocals actually doing something of interest, which was so much more than I expected. What's more, Keeks gave it an R&B flava, putting the right runs in the right places to give it some strange sort of soul. Even more still, she sold it in presence, ably conveying her seriousness about stayin' alive in this damned contest without losing control of her manuevering throughout. She didn't overdo it when it seemed to be heading that way, and she managed to make room where I believed there to be none. In short, she interior designed the hell outta that puppy and I was impressed. No neck hairs were standing, sure, but my head bopped in a few places, and I saw where she was taking it. Why SPR were so hard on her is a little beyond me -- my only guess is that it sounded stranger in the room than it did through the TV speakers. Either that, or Simon still hasn't found a way to get her lip gloss off his mouth from last week and got pissy about it.

4. So, naturally, the only conclusion to draw at this point in the show was that Jordin was going to blow everyone else's awfulness out of the galaxy and claim her place on the throne 2 weeks early. I mean, given what Barry had to say about it being the best version he's ever heard, there's no other way it'd go down, right? Wrong again! True, it was the best performance at that point, but it reeked of amateurism and a bad case of the shakes. And all I was left thinking (and texting to my friend) was: "THAT'S my American Idol? Yawn." Jordin Sparks? That's all we could muster this year, y'all? Well, that's the worst news I'm hearing if it proves to be true. 'Cuz what you're basically telling me is that if you're the cutest one of a not-so-hot bunch, you'll be the last one standing as long as you have enough talent on your good days to pull it off? Dude, she's not even close to as polished and believable as Kat McPhee, and I wasn't even rooting for that chick for the same exact reasons. Justice was served last year in that the Pheever didn't win, but if Sparks is the best we have to look forward to from January through May, then I just about quit. There's too much ridiculous talent out there to have it wasted on streaky, whether it's in Blake's hair or coming out of Jordin's mouth. Melinda is our only hope for SOME kind of wholesome ending to this saga, and Jordin's consistent ball-dropping last night only etched that truth in stone. Moving way the hell on, 'cuz picturing her bizarro rendevous with Barry G is making me queasy.

5.Then everyone got a second chance at redemption. Ever the perfectionist, Melinda came back fighting, but were it not for her 2nd half, she'd be on the fence tonight as well. The first half wasn't just lackluster, it was totally out of sync with whatever the band was trying to deal her. Thankfully, she switched gears midway and took it to happytown. Still, a disappointing go for Neckless, and I'm not sure why. I think losing Phil really hit her in a place (you all saw how she broke all the way down when Alien set sail for brighther nebulae), and she's still recovering. Aww, Doo's got da blues. Well, she had better get over it and quick, lest heartbreak steal her thunder.

6. While we're on the topic, I might as well point out here that Blake has obviously lost his mojo since losing his boyfriend, I mean, best friend Chris Richardson last week. I know long distance relationships can be hell, so my heart goes out to the happy couple. But really Blake, your man told you he'd be back in your arms come tour time, so what's the fuss? You can't just crumble under the lights as soon as your butt-buddy (ohhhh yeeeeahhhh) heads back to Brokeback. Usually I'd tell someone to get it together, but I quite enjoy watching him suck this royally. The song appealed to absolutely no organism in the universe, primarily because no one knows it, and as the cherry on top, he sang it out of key. Yay! Way to be, Blake! Now, Paula held up her end of the bargain they've devised and made sure to point out that although she's never heard the song, he stayed on pitch. Funny how one can't know that unless they have either heard the song, or have functioning ears. And since she's never had the latter, and admitted to never experiencing the former, I'm sure her comments were spot-on. Like Blake's pitch.

7. Kiki did her thing for most of it, enough so that the croak at the end didn't matter. In fact, it was human, which is more than Robot DooLittle can muster most of the time. But she remained middle-of-the-road again... not offending anyone, but not changing any lives either. As Simon said, she is vulnerable tonight, but watching her go home before Blake will be a continuation of the Heist of the Millenium, in that he didn't even belong in the top 32 after last night's debacle. And when compared to Jordin in vocal polish, most of the time that's not even worth debating either. But, the votes will have it - and so will the AI producers who likely wouldn't deign to have 3 black female singers in the finale. If anyone would be okay with it, it'd be FOX, but still.

8. Then, riding off the second most unfathomable compliment of the night, Jordin came in to close the show and once again try to secure first place in this thing. Guess no one felt like a winner last night, because it was worse than her first and then some. The dress made me feel like I accidentally put on my Beauty & The Beast DVD by accident, and the out-of-pitch, cirque de soleil of singing made me want to find Barbara and just hug her and hug her more so that she'd get through the night. Who in hell thought it a good idea to put Jordin on par with Babs? Who in hell thinks this overblown garbage is enough already? Who in hell is the only person who has ever done Streisand justice on this show? Well, the answer to the first question is DEFINITELY not this guy, but it is to the second - except that I'm not in hell. And neither is Fantasia, but she's the answer to the third in case you're curious. Can we just go back and watch Ms. Barrino's rendition of "Summertime" on repeat instead of this muck? As McPhee would say, I'm SO over it.

Well, now that we've sat through 8 generally underwhelming attempts at top honors, someone's gotta go. It goes without saying who it should be, but does Blake's under-the-table agreement spread to more than just SPR? Time will tell, y'all, time will always tell.

Shoulda: Blake Lewis
Coulda: Lakisha Jones
Wild Card: Jordin Sparks