Archuleta Idol

Seacrest says that “a superstar will emerge” from the group of 20 singers left in the competition. He says that as though it were a threat. And the show is doing everything it can to make that threat stick. They really can’t afford any more stillborn albums by Jordin Sparks and Blake Lewis or anyone else for that matter.

That’s why the fix is in.

I have no proof, obviously. Only observation. And it just seems like, like just the tiniest teensiest bit, that David Archuleta is the only male contestant I have any reason to be writing about among this group of 10.

I’m not the first person writing about this show to suspect that the kid is one of several plants. He’s a male pageant baby already; he’s been stage-groomed for years, what with the whole Star Search background and all. In fact, I was in a Star Search studio audience about four years, maybe five, years ago when he came out onstage and sang Alicia Keys’s “Falling.” I remember being unsettled by his freak-show not-yet-voice-changed ability to know exactly how to sing a distinctly female torch song with absolutely no life experience beyond what was obviously the care of a good vocal coach to back it up. And then I never thought about him again.

I didn’t even think that the David Archuleta on the Idol stage now might have been that little kid in the red shirt I saw that afternoon until today. So thanks again, YouTube, you’re a very good helper. And speaking of YT, I have visions of Idol interns slavishly combing through season 1’s hours and hours of nonshow footage (remember how they used to follow them around with cameras so you could watch them all hanging out at that big house and jumping in the pool?) to find the moment, one that Archuleta himself must have spoken about during his original round of pre-audition interviews, where he sang “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going” to Kelly Clarkson and the rest of the top 10. (I’ve been reading Heart Full of Soul by The Boogie and His Ghostwriter, so, yes, incredibly late to the “insider” party, I realize, but I know all about this backstage stuff now. Good pal Xtreem Aaron picked it up for me at Los Angeles’s gigantic Amoeba Records on the book clearance shelf for $1.99.)

Then I like to imagine the people who weren’t the one lucky enough to find the clip first and get it YouTube-ready all being sacked.

But since someone out there must care about these nine other guys, here’s what happens to them on Tuesday night. It’s “’70s Classics” Night.

1. Michael Johns says he’s a “bit of a jock.” He plays tennis. He plays heaps of tennis. That’s how Australians say that. They say “heaps,” which I’ve always thought was kind of funny. He sings “Go Your Own Way” like a tennis player.

2. Jason Castro has no answers to interview questions but has hair care down. His most interesting feature, in fact, is his Battlefield Earth mop. He sings “I Just Want to Be Your Everything.” He runs out of breath. He does quite a bit of this.

3. Luke Mennard sings in an a cappela group called Chapter Six. Wow, are they squares. Like Doodletown Pipers-level bland. So he comes out and tries Queen’s “Killer Queen.” It’s very…nice. Did you know that Freddie Mercury was never called a “nice” singer? I remember sitting in a Baptist church pew once as a teenager while the traveling anti-rock-and-roll youth minister called him, basically, the devil, citing Queen in particular as a band young people should stay away from, what with their implied gayness and all. So yeah, it was a Baptist minister who taught me to associate homosexuality with the word “queen.” But back to the point. Why any one single person, even with three talented backup singers lending a hand, would try to re-create the studio concoctions of that band is beyond me. It would be like trying to sing an ELO song. You ain’t good enough. It doesn’t matter who you are.

4. Robbie Carrico seems to be wearing a wig. When he’s not displaying the fakey-looking, oddly matted-down hair, he’s wearing a tightly wrapped rag covered in skulls.

Skulls.

They’re so rock.

He sings “Hot Blooded” but forgets that in order to sing Foreigner YOU MUST BE WEARING THE FOREIGNER BELT. He is not, therefore, hot-blooded. I begin thinking about waffles again. I do like it, though, when he holds up three fingers when he gets to the part about having a fever of 103. The rock-climbing gear on the side of his Stupid Pants is funny too. My husband/partner/whatever starts singing along to the chorus with his own lyrics: “I’M NOT BALDING. I’M NOT BALDING!”

5. I like Danny Noriega. He’s just an average singer, but he totally entertains me. He just doesn’t give a fuck if the whole world knows what a little Christian Siriano he is. That’s the kind of kid who took all the bullets for me in high school while I skulked around pretending to be neither here nor there. He talks about the shitty punk rock band he was in in ninth grade, and I keep waiting for him to say, “Omuhgodweweresofeerce.” Then he sings “Superstar.” It’s boring, but at least he’s not smiling while he sings it. He knows what it’s like, the pain of being a young girl in love. I hope he sticks around and keeps flaming up the place.

6. According to Defamer, David Hernandez used to be a go-go boy and a bartender at some Phoenix gay bars. This is funny information in light of Hernandez’s comment that he was always embarrassed by his old gymnastics uniform he had to wear in school, the one that showed off his junk too much. Sings “Papa Was a Rolling Stone.” Thirty-seven syllables in “rolling stone,” by the way, in case you weren’t counting. Seacrest and Paula decide to spend a little time post-performance discussing the meaning of ’70s pop music. Paula says it was a great time for music in the ’70s. Seacrest asks her why that was. Paula tells him it’s because the music was so great then.

7. Jason Yeager sings the Doobie Brothers’ “Long Train Runnin’.” Grins his way through the part about how Miss Lucy lost her home and her family. Also, Jason Yeager is a gay-porn name from 1987. Also, quit making that faggoty little bleachy bit in your hair. Also, think twice about athletic-cut shirts. Also, stop singing. He’s like Jamiroquai if they were even worse.

8. Chikezie says “Myself and my name are Nigerian.” That doesn’t make “myself” the subject of a sentence, doofus. Sings “I Believe to My Soul.” See? Inconsistent. He should change it to “Myself Believe to My Soul.” But it’s fine. Did you know that Donny Hathaway’s daughter Kenya is one of the Idol backup singers? Look, it’s work. Sasses Simon again about the orange suit. I like that.

9. David Cook, we discover, enjoys crossword puzzles and seems proud of his vocabulary, one which includes the following eighth-grade standardized test words: juxtapose, vindicate, ostentatious, homage, culmination, obscurity, permeate, optimistic, pessimistic, and enamored. Sings Free’s “All Right Now.” Simon calls him out for the crossword puzzle thing, basically telling kids everywhere that being smart isn’t cool. Good one. Mr. Cook’s guitar features the mysterous letters “A.C.” It can’t possibly be the initials of a really offensively named noise band whose name I can’t even say here. And you know, if you’ve been reading these recaps for three seasons, that they let me say pretty much anything my foul-mouthed keyboard can type up for you. Anyway, A.C. are kind of great. They have song titles like “I Noticed You’re Gay,” which is about Pearl Jam. I’m just going out on a limb and saying that he’s not giving them a shout-out.

10. David Archuleta sings the least possibly offensive lyrics to “Imagine,” leaving out all that theologically unsound material about no heaven or hell or God. Randy asks him why he didn’t sing the first verse. The kid says that the last verse is his favorite and there just wasn’t time for all the rest of them. Paula, already in tears and the season’s practically just begun, tells him she wants to squeeze him, pinch his head off, and dangle him from her car’s rearview mirror. I can only assume she means that in the good way. The screaming is out of control for the boy. He responds with his best practiced humble face, aw-shucksing it to satellites and back.