Even if you don't
watch the show, you've already heard that Melinda
received the death blow this week. Even if you don't care
about who wins or loses, you realize that this is
bullshit. It doesn't even feel like a good
VoteFortheWorst.com moment to me. That's because the worst
we have right now, Blake--and really, Blaker Girls and
Blaker Gays, just get off my back, because your boy is
as interesting as a pair of Gap khakis--is simply
run-of-the-mill dull. He's every popular, boring, cute, safe
novelty trend to come along in the past 20 years all rolled
into one manicured, pointy-sideburned, human-shaped
lump of cream cheese. I guarantee you that one of his
dopey little tattoos--he says there's more than that
one you see on his forearm--is a UPC bar code because he
thought it was statement of rebellion to The Man, man. At
least Daughtry could sing in tune. And I know that by
dissing Blake in the first paragraph of this recap I'm
flying in the face of the opinion of the very nice
dude named Michael who interviewed me yesterday for the HRC
show on XM radio. He's a Blaker Gay too. But he seemed
to be with me on the
Fantasia-being-better-than-anybody-else-ever trip, so I hope
we can still be friends.
Anyway, it's all
no fun. That's because last year when Hicks won instead
of Elliot (Remember him? He was last year's Melinda,
a note-hitting machine who sang circles around
everyone else but presented a marketing challenge) it
felt like Spaz Liberation Day. I was happy. I had no
intention of buying his record, but I liked having his goon
qualities on TV week after week. (In fact, given the
sluggish Ruben Studdard-like album sales he's
racking up, he should have been given his own Fox
variety show called The Boogie instead of a
recording contract. Simply listening to the man's
disembodied singing voice is like smelling the cookies
baking but not getting to taste them, you know?)
"Tonight
they fight..." says Seacrest, opening the
Tuesday night show. Well, let's make it a cage battle,
then. One with Rage Virus-infected zombie
chimps tossed into the mix. And those razor-sharp flying
stars that ninjas throw at each other. And I want
Sanjaya standing outside the cage with a fire hose
connected to a gasoline tanker. And I want The Hotness
to strike the match.
The camera pans
the three remaining contestants as they sit in front of
makeup mirrors. Melinda and Jordin grin like normal people.
Blake seems genetically resistant to the idea that a
simple natural smile might make him seem less of a
dick, so he goes right for the Comedy Face (big
O-shaped Montclair moment mouth, bug-eyes, brows to the
ceiling). WACKY MCGEE IS IN THE HOUSE, Y'ALL!
It's No Mentor
night. Instead, the Final Three will all travel back to
their hometowns to experience people they already know treat
them all weirdly because Now They're Somebody on TV.
It's also three-songs-each night. Nine miniature
performances. And I'm with The Disco Lion on this one.
It would be nice if just once, outside of the finale,
someone got to sing an entire song instead of first
verse-chorus-key change-chorus again. I don't think
this is asking for too much. To keep it manageable for
you, the beleaguered reader, I'm going to do it bullet-point
style like I did last week. OK, yes, I'm also doing it
for me, because, you know, fuggit.
Jordin's First
Song: "Wishin' on a Star" by Rose Royce. This
choice is read to Jordin by the nice lady mayor of
Beige, Ariz. Actually, I forgot the name of the town.
But that's what it's named in my heart. It looks like
the parking lot of a mall. Anyway Rose Royce's
"Wishin' on a Star" is an OK song. But
it's no "I'm Goin' Down" or "Car
Wash."
Chosen by: Simon,
who claims to be a Melinda man, but for some reason has
decided not to sabotage Jordin for it by making her sing
something like "99 Luftballoons." I
would have.
The Performance:
Nice dress. I like the return of the curly hair. I'm not
so much about the nude lip gloss, but whatever. She does a
very nice, controlled job. Camera cuts to her dad
applauding. He never seems to smile. What's that
about?
The Judges:
Randy, having no other means of expressing himself, strings
together "bring the heat" and "in it to
win it." Paula: "Good for you."
Simon hated the hotel-lobby-jazz arrangement. Me too. And
after all these years I'm still not clear on how much
say the kids get in the arrangements. I mean, besides
That Maverick Blake.
Etcetera: Jordin
seems confused now. Sticks out her tongue, makes faces,
created a heart-shaped thing with her hands and holds it
over her voluptuous 17-years-in-the-making bazooms,
generally cutes it up while Seacrest talks about how
to dial the phone. Blake is off to the side, freaking
Melinda and mugging.
Commercial Time:
1. Stomp the
Yard is out on DVD. It's no You Got Served, I'll
tell you right now. And yes, I've seen both of them,
so I know what's right here. Trust.
2. I hate that
one where the little girl is all OMG and BFF with her mom,
leaving the poor cell-phone-bill-paying mom in a befuddled,
butt-of-the-joke state. Kids are pieces of shit.
3. If only you
will buy several Old Navy swimsuits, your summer will be a
nonstop fuck-a-thon.
4. Bones
season finale, featuring Ryan O'Neal. If you've not
yet read my amazing book, Exile in Guyville,
then when you do you will thrill to the story of how he
rented an apartment around the block from me while his
Malibu fortress was being renovated and
Griffin-proofed. He used to walk his dog twice a day
in front of my building. I resisted the urge to go up to him
and shout, "HOWARD BANNISTER!" I
resisted that urge daily. It was superdifficult.
Blake's First
Song: "Roxanne" by the Police. Paula. I forgot
to mention that I'm watching the show with my
husband/partner/whatever and our housemate and friend
Xtreem Aaron and his boyfriend, Gary. XA works at the
biggest Los Angeles music store there is. It's called
Amoeba. He has unassailably great taste in music. Upon
hearing that Blake would be singing the song about how
Sting saved a prostitute from the streets, he
responded thus: "I don't want to listen to music ever
again. I'm quitting my job tomorrow."
Chosen by: Paula.
Well played, Abdul. You chose a nonsingery song for him
to butcher. She's not as dumb as she consistently looks and
acts. The mayor of Blake's hometown of Bothell, Wash.,
appears to have gone to high school with Blake.
Everyone in this town is blond.
The Performance:
He wisely doesn't go for the superhigh notes of a young
Sting. He just keeps it chill, biding his time until the end
when he gets to slide to the front of the stage on his
knees, package first. I never really noticed it until
tonight, but he's kind of packagey. Must be the
homemade pants.
The Judges:
Everyone's happy but Simon, who calls it merely
"good." How dare he!
Etcetera:
Sweater-vest manufacturers of the world must love this kid.
Melinda's First
Song: "I Believe in You and Me" by Whitney
Houston.
Chosen By: Randy,
who cannot resist the opportunity to dawgify everything
he touches. Sends a fax to the governor of Tennessee that
begins "Check it out!" The gov calls him
Randy Johnson. Melinda then says, "Thank you,
Randy Johnson!"
The Performance:
Impeccable, of course. What else does she do? But here's
the problem, and it's my only problem with Melinda, because
in general I kind of love her. She often seems like
she's taking a really important test when she sings.
Her "pro" takes over, and I think she imagines
that she's still a backup singer and there's no camera
on her, so her only job is to make it sound great. She
doesn't sell it, she doesn't sex it, she doesn't open
up whatever locked up thing is still locked up inside
her. Maybe people feel that, I don't know. With
LaKisha, even when she fucked up the singing part, you
could feel her need and you could almost read her mind. That
mind pretty much had one thought (I'M A SINGLE MOM! I
GOTTA BUY MORE FUCKIN' HUGGIES PULL-UPS! DO YOU
KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THAT SHIT IS?!) but at
least you knew where she was coming from. Melinda is an
enigma to me. Hence my question, "Is she a
clamped-down lezzie who gets no lady action?" a
few weeks ago. And I still don't know.
The Judges: Blah
blah they love her. They think she's a shoo-in for the
finale. But I can't really pay attention because the mail
just came and KELLY CLARKSON IS ON THE COVER OF THE
NEW ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY. I just stopped and read the
whole article. Mostly I have Fantasia days, but right now
I'm having a Kelly one. I want to hear that new
record, not only because I think Kelly is brilliant
but because fuckin' MIKE WATT from the Minutemen played on
it. And if you don't know who Mike Watt is or who the
Minutemen were, then I want you to go right out and
get a CD called Double Nickels on the Dime because it
may be one of the greatest albums of the past 30
years. It's more than a punk-rock record. It's like a
fuckin' bible of how music should sound.
Etcetera: Where
was I? Oh, yeah, Melinda. She's great. Also doomed.
Jordin's Second
Song: Wait for it. First we have a stupid viewer
question. "What is your favorite song of all
time?" asks Someone from Somewhere. Jordin's
response is "Mmm Bop." Well played, Sparks.
That truly is a great song. As in "Smells Like
Teen Spirit" great. I'm not being sarcastic
here, either. I wrote in a review of a '90s compilation
boxed set once, for this other gay magazine that fired me,
that this is the song you'll be getting that
embarrassing, meaningless lower-back tribal tattoo
lasered off to someday. It's kind of perfect, that song.
Inspired by this choice, I take a quick room poll. Here are
the results:
Husband/Partner/Whatever: "Bye Bye Bye" by the
very cool band Jellyfish. They put out like two albums
and broke up. That's the perfect amount of albums for
a band too, by the way. No worries about a sucky third and
then painful descent into nothingness.
Me: "Ride
The Pony" by Ginuwine.
Xtreem Aaron:
"Pull Over, That Ass Too Fat" by Trick Daddy
featuring Trina. Also a good one.
Gary:
"Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and The News.
Anyway, Jordin's
going to sing "She Works Hard For the Money"
by Donna Summer.
Chosen by: The
producers.
The performance:
Lazy, as in "Fuck you, producers! Fuck you, America!
I'm not working hard for shit." I think
I heard Donna Summer say once that this song was based
on a real woman who had like five jobs or some
craziness like that. I had three jobs at once in college,
though, so five isn't so much more than that. I worked
in the dish room of a women's dorm cafeteria, and I
also was the morning attendant for this friend of mine
who had really profound cerebral palsy. It was my job to go
wake him up, shower him, dress him, brush his teeth,
shave him, wipe his ass (yes, really) after his
morning poop, and then feed him breakfast. I washed my
hands between the last two parts, so don't freak out.
Anyway, I also worked in a record store and sold White
Lion records to jerk-off frat boys.
The Judges:
Simon's making no sense. I'd go back and try to parse it
out, but none of it matters. The Princess can do no
wrong now.
Etcetera: No
goofy cutesy faces this time around. She exhausted her
entire repertoire during the first song.
Blake's Second
Song: Again, wait for it. Another viewer question.
"What's it like being a dullard?" OK,
lie. It's "If they made a movie about your
life, what would it be called and who would play
you?" Blake's response: "Jim Carrey
would play me, and it would be called Organized
Chaos."
This is Blake,
distilled. His wacky facial jive and his earlier
confession about how he's invented a slew of Komedy
Karachters is all about how he sees himself as a
new-school Carrey and his life-story film title is
exactly what a too-full-of-self-esteem young man who thinks
he's a "wild and crazy guy" would say.
Based on his Abominable Snowboy outfit, I think his
movie should be called Hustler White. But that
one's already taken.
He's also singing
Maroon 5's "This Love."
Chosen by: The
producers.
The Performance:
Contains beatboxing as a garnish. He got slapped by them
for doing it too much last week, so at least he listened.
But he'll never outgrow it. He gets way too much
positive reinforcement for it. The crowd goes
buck-wild every time he does it, like when all the grown-ups
crack up when a 3-year-old learns to say
"shit" out loud.
The Judges: So
pleased. So...I don't know. Who cares?
Etcetera:
...
Melinda's Second
Song: "Nutbush City Limits" by Tina Turner, a
song about yelling.
Chosen by: The
producers, who clearly want to sink her with this one.
The Performance:
She hammers the shit out of it vocally, but doesn't have
Tina Turner's pre-escape from Ike, pre-Buddhism,
pre-What's Love Got to Do With It?
insanity. The assembled viewers in my living room
begin changing the title and words, calling it
"Abortion City Limits" and shouting lyrics
that are so vile I can't repeat them here. It is then
agreed upon that someone this season should have done
the song called "..." You know, it's that
silent John Cage-y one from Pootie Tang, a
favorite movie among residents of this house. When, oh
when, will an Idol contestant throw the whole thing
for the sake of an amazing joke and sine their
pitty on the runny kine?
Jordin's Third
Song: "I Who Have Nothing." Total cheating, by
the way. She sang that one already once. At this
moment I would like to make a valiant, heroic stand
for my integrity and refuse to write any more about
it.
Blake's Third
Song: "When I Get You Alone" by Robin Thicke.
But first he goes back to Seattle to beatbox for a
crowd while Sir Mix-A-Lot does "Baby Got
Back." Then Sir Mix calls Blake the "new king
of Sea-Town," which is generous of him. Gotta
hand it to Sir Mix. He knows how to be gracious. I
think Blake should do "Put 'Em on the Glass"
as a thank-you to him. But he doesn't.
Chosen by: Blake.
As the Dane Cook of singing, he's gotta go steal
someone else's white-hot act for three minutes.
The Performance:
I must say that I enjoy the sample of Walter Murphy's
disco song "A Fifth of Beethoven." Otherwise
I'm just counting the number of times I have left to
listen to this kid sing. I pray for the sweet release
of the finale's final moments. He'll be released out into
the world, and I won't have to deal anymore. I can
focus exclusively on the new Kelly album. And the
Boredoms' Super Roots 9 that I've been
listening to almost every day for a week and is an
amazing CD you should go get if you care about your ears
being happy.
The Judges: Blah
blah we like it blah.
Melinda's Third
Song: "The Babysitting Blues" from the amazing
film Adventures in Babysitting. OK, lie. It's the
"W-O-M-A-N" song. But I wish it had been the
former instead of the latter.
Chosen by:
Melinda. God knows why. The lyrics are about lard from a
drippin' pan. And that is, of course, delicious, but sounds
fairly gross when you think about it.
The performance:
She's so down for the background-singer struggle that
she makes the three backup chicks come out onstage with her.
She also drops her coat on the floor, a bluesy
belter's devil-may-care move. It's a start.
The Judges:
Cannot see how she won't be in the finale.
Well, just wait 24 hours, judges. Then let's see what you
say.
Etcetera: Not
much else to say. Best singer of the night, of the season,
of the past two seasons. Getting kicked off tomorrow night.
And now on to the
elimination night:
1. Homer Simpson
introduces the night in an animated clip. Wants to know
if it's too late to vote for Fantasia. Technically yes, but
in my world it's never too late.
2. The D-List
celebrity dragnet scraped up Jackie Collins and plopped her
down into the front row.
3. Melinda's
wearing a T-shirt that says "Death" on it. I'm
not making that up. She must have gotten it out of
someone already.
4. That discarded
guy from earlier in the season is sitting in the
audience. I forget his name. The one who was also a backup
singer. He seems relieved.
5. Seacrest talks
to the kids on the couch about going home, making
personal appearances, singing for hometown folks. We see
Jordin's dad smile for once. Then Jordin hugs her best
friend of 15 years, a girl named Bailey who will never
see Jordin again after this is all over. That cell
phone number's going to change every month.
6. Haley is in
the audience. So's LaKisha, seething next to that other
guy I just mentioned. Dang, what is his name?
7. Blake goes
home to Washington. More face-pulling. Jimi Hendrix music
plays. Blake goes to the Space Needle for the first time
(?). More faces. Mouth open so wide it simply begs for
a fist to be inserted into it. The Special Olympics
guy from the auditions is there, cheering him on. Blake
says, "Home is where the heart is." He hugs
his mom and dad. Dad cries. Blake sings a Keane song.
Dad sings along. Blake encourages the fans to
"party" with him. He sings the National Anthem
at a Mariners game.
8. The former
Captain Caveman, now slickly packaged (well, sort of),
Elliot's here to sing. New weird hair. New weird teeth. Like
too big for his mouth, I think. New weird manicured
beard. It's an omen. Are you reading it, Melinda? Best
singer from last season? Third place? That's you in
about 15 minutes.
9. Melinda goes
home footage: A little girl claims that Melinda's gotten
her through "a lot of tough times." In four
months how many tough times could you have had, kid?
The crowds seem older, less manic than in Seattle.
That's a bad sign too.
10. Maroon 5 is
here to sing their new Franken-song. Based on one listen,
I think it's about microwave oatmeal and lukewarm water in a
plastic cup. That male model they have singing for
them wears a suit really well, though. Everyone has a
talent.
11. And Melinda
goes home. A shiver of joy runs down Jordin's spine as
she realizes, "HOLY SHIT I JUST WON AMERICAN
IDOL!" My TiVo cuts it off, but I heard from some
folks after the fact that it becomes a game of Hot
Potato with bouquets of flowers being passed back and
forth from Blake and Jordin to Melinda to the backup
singers. She's a classy lady, that Doolittle. She will do
lots! of Adult Contemporary radio and opening slots
for Anita Baker. That's not a bad life.