“Jesus
Take the Wheel,” as Carrie Underwood would
sing—because on this week’s American
Idol there were some serious wrong turns. Part 6
of Dave White’s continuing AI wrap-up
I have blind
gossip items and I’m going to share them.
That’s one of the perks of being a
bottom-feeding entertainment journalist in Los Angeles.
You’re always meeting some half-drunk and fully
disgruntled person at a party who works behind the
scenes and is willing to cough it up after half a
dozen beers. Here’s what I learned this week from
someone who works for American Idol…
Item # 1: One of
the stronger male contestants is not exactly who he
portrays himself to be. His endearing presence is more for
the cameras than anything else.
Item # 2:
One of the female contestants is guilty of the exact same
sort of image-pumping fakery.
Item # 3:
Another male contestant is not especially well liked by most
of the people involved with the show.
Guess with your
friends! It’s fun and easy and will take your mind
off the war and your eroding privacy rights. And, no,
I’m not mentioning names. That’s why
they call it a blind item.
On to the crappy
singing. And this week—songs of Right Now!—was
insane with it…
Kids, remember
how they told you in that secular humanist public school
you went to that it was very, very important to have simply
oodles of self-esteem and that you could do anything
you set your mind to and that anyone who got in your
way was just an obstacle, jealous of your shining
talents? Well, they might have overstated their case just
the eensiest bit. Because, see, truth is that
you’re not so special or unique or wonderful,
really. At all. You’re just not. No one is. Oh, you
can sing pretty well? That’s nice. So can 10
jillion other people. Oh, and you say you want to sing
a Kelly Clarkson song tonight? Sure! Why not? That’s
not a loaded gesture or anything. Because
you’re uniquely, magically you and your
version is going to be your own. Everyone will see
that when you’re done. You’ll transform a
fresh-on-everyone’s-mind hit from the very
first and most beloved American Idol winner to date
and erase its memory from the public’s consciousness.
From now on people will say, “Oh, yeah,
‘Because Of You,’ that Lisa Tucker song? I
love that song! It makes Kelly’s five-times
platinum album version sound like a demo. Plus,
Kelly’s all old and stuff now, nearly 30, practically
dead. Long live Lisa!”
The judges rip
into little Miss Tucker and she makes a pouty face. How
dare they!
Pick Pickler is
up next, cute-ifiying a big hit from country radio called
“Suds in a Bucket.” I know this doofus song
because I genuinely dig country music. But the judges
clearly do not, so they rake her over the coals. Simon
even mentions “lassoing.” British people are
adorable when they’re being dumb. But the
problem isn’t the stupid song. The problem is,
was, and will continue to be Pickler. I already attacked her
makeup once, and though it remains thick and barfy,
I’m not going to harp on it again. Today I
choose instead to harp on her overall performance
aesthetic. See, country music is essentially soul music for
toothless white people. It’s based in pain. And
therefore the coolest country singers are capable of
conveying that barren landscape of the soul with a few
carefully selected vocal signifiers. My favorite one is the
sort of yelpy, yodely, cracked-voice thing.
It’s a staple of country sadness, and Pickler
is either incapable of it or chooses not to go there.
She’ll never be Dolly or Patsy or even Leann
Rimes. And she doesn’t want to be. She wants to
be Faith and Shania and Martina McBride, all of them fancy
ladies and complete bores. Pickler wants to be one too. Of
course, she’ll have to learn to stay on key. Or
not. Faith never does.
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Dave White is the author of the soon-to-be-best-selling
memoir Exile In Guyville, available wherever
fine books are sold. He blogs at http://djmrswhite.livejournal.com/.