Apologies for incomplete insight on an incomplete show, but tonight’s American Idol recap does not start at the beginning. Rather than look at this as something detrimental (Comcast, why you so imcompatent?), I will simply take to heart it just means I have to watch LESS American Idol.
The first person I see is someone named Hayley Davis. She is as bland and blond as one could possibly be, but you can see her bra. Someone else named Michelle who just seemed to make seal noises also made it to Hollywood, as did several others. Then there is an unnecessarily long judges interlude before the break where Nicki Minaj remains at the table, sitting ever so petulantly, of course, and Mariah sings something for Keith Urban, who just seems like a really nice guy. Its difficult for me to get the names of the contestants when we spend soooo much time with the judges.
A Chili’s commercial plays. No mention of baby back ribs, just heartfelt tales of people falling in love or doing rock, paper, scissors for the check.
Back in Charlotte, NC, at the Charlotte International Speedway (or is it Interstate? All I know is that North Korea could put on some serious Mass Games antics in that place. May Day Stadium’s got nothing on NASCAR.) The good news is that since we’re in North Carolina a not North Korea, Scotty McCreery stops in! Have they unlocked the back door and turned the lights down low for you yet, Scotty?
Besides being his lovable aw shucks self, Scotty McCreery is all-around awesome because the kid is—are you ready—going to college. He also appears to still remember people from his middle school class. I don’t think I would ever buy a Scotty McCreery album, but by golly, I really like Scotty McCreery.
I suspect this dude might be a comedian. You can smell hipster from beneath the hat, yo. He appears to talk in Google Translate. He is very tall. They make him dance. Cotton candy-hued Nicki looks like she really has to piss, but tells him he should be a model.
TONIGHT’S SPECIAL NOMINEE is…Isabel Gonzalez
So as Randy the dawg Jackson points out, he is, in fact, riding a school bus. He then interrupts the principal’s lecture on the importance of SAT scores to whisk Isabel to auditions. Or at least give her a numbered ticket. The next day, he asks her if she will ditch high school for Idol. She says OF COURSE I WILL. Randy says that’s “his kind of girl.” I weep. I weep because this adorable girl belts out a little Sam Cooke and is GOOD. Like real good. And she didn’t sing that damned Duffy song. She’s good, like with shades of my beloved Winehouse in that voice, a more subdued Alison Iraheta (oh I still adore you, sweet La Princesa del Mariachi) if you had given her pageant training.
The judges love you, Isabel Gonzalez. And you are rather talented, so from the bottom of my heart—Please don’t get very far. Please take your SATs very seriously.
This commercial break brings poor Jeremy Irons stuck in some southern gothic Twilight knockoff. I guess we all need a paycheck sometimes.
Since we need to see the judges while workmen switch out various accoutrements of the audition set, Keith Urban makes small talk with Mariah Carey, Randy just sits there, and I guess Nicki is sitting there petulantly.
Taisha is an “alternative rocker” African-American girl who announces she is singing Johnny Cash. And then she sings Alannis Morisette. Taisha is gorgeous and has a pierced nose. I want to hear her band, too. She confuses Mariah. They don’t think she is “really that rock girl.” Nicki doesn’t want her to make a decision on what kind of music she likes.
Because you’re a black girl, you’re not doing the typical R&B realm…
I’m glad you said it, Minaj, I’m glad you said it. Nicki & Keith say yes. Randy & Mariah say no, because they can’t wrap their heads around this black girl singing (ROCK) lead in a band of all white dudes. But I guess Keith is the deciding vote or something so TAISHA IS GOING TO HOLLYWOOD.
Pointless, forgettable montage where Nicki Minaj looks pissed because everyone else keeps sending these lame pageant girls through.
Girls like…Summer Cunningham
Sitting Lean On Me, Summer Cunningham is utterly forgettable (the name omg the name that’s really her name), but Nicki seems to like her for some reason. Note to Summer, don’t say you’ve “done the country thing” in front of Keith Urban. Wait—have you looked in the mirror? These people want another Carrie Underwood. Just tell them you want to sing country. By the end of the interrogation, Nicki isn’t having it. Nicki is sick of people picking auditioners’ preferred genres apart and how doing so forces them to lie on the spot.
Sure, Nicki Minaj may want to be the star of the show but let’s face it—she is saying everything you are thinking. Because Randy has 30 years experience, he knows better than Nicki. Nicki leaves. Mariah is pissed because SHE was going to walk out the next time Nicki ragged on her. Blah blah blah. Keith Urban just sits there and shrugs. This might be mildly entertaining if Nigel Lythgoe had not staged and leaked this shit to TMZ last summer.
And TMZ was like, we got it, just show Harvey Levin informing his troops in the final edit. The ladies of The View got in there, too. The only thing worthwhile about the entire predictable montage is giving it a As The Rush Comes (Gabriel and Dresden Chill Out Mix) soundtrack.
Oh who am I kidding? Right now I just want to read everything on the Internet regarding North Korea, not the time American Idol went to North Carolina in 2012.
Brandy is a Navy Reservist with nice braids. She sings Etta James and its not At Last. She bobs and weaves when she sings but she has a rich, moving voice and looks like she could be a little fun, unless they beat it out of her should she stick around past Hollywood Week. And I really wish white people were more jubilant in their celebrations. White people are so boring.
Completely unrelated: When I was in junior high, boys wore button-downs identical to Nicki Minaj’s shirt to school dances. (Do they even call it junior high anymore?)
Ashley is like, a real-world Tyler Perry character. She is 5′. She talks to everyone. She wears think black glasses. Nicki calls her Blondie because well, she has blond hair. She announces she is going to sing Carrie Underwood’s Cowboy Casanova and because she’s bubbly and colorful, we are made to believe she is going to suck. Ashley Smith does anything but suck, although I think she would suck on Keith Urban’s nipple and I DO think Randy Jackson wants to watch.
Randy says if you can sing, you can sing anything. This contradicts most of what he says about people needing to chose a genre. Nicki gives everyone a nickname. It gets a montage and a hashtag (#nickinames) which is cute for about the first 20 seconds and really only notable for Nicki calling someone Tom Cruise.
Janelle Arthur (aka Honeybee)
When Janelle was really little, she was in something with Dolly Parton. Janelle would be everything I hate except she appears a bit more naturalistic than the Underwoods and Picklers that came before her, with some bizarro Crystal Bowersox via Blake Lively thing going on that makes little sense when I type it out but it makes sense when you see Janelle Arthur. Randy says she has the makings of a young LeAnn [Rimes] and well, that’s one of the worst things you could say to anyone.
Sadly, all this attention paid to the judges this year (I know you wanna be The Voice so hard, Idol, I know you do.) means less names with faces when they run through all the amusing people.
The busker all of Charlotte loves, Rodney Barber also helps out homeless people since four years ago, he was in the same predicament. He’s the type of legitimate heart-warming story that Idol loves until then they “discover” an arrest record or something else of a dubious nature. Until then, and after, Rodney Barber, you’re a good dude.
Yo, so in case you didn’t know, Keith Urban has to leave because his wife is getting an award from the New York Film Festival. Does he fly commercial?
Randy doesn’t remember her name, but Candice was cut in Vegas last year and I’m sure that evil illiterate pageant bot Jessica Sanchez had something to do with it. Lately, Candice has been told she sounds a lot like Joshua Ledet. Randy then proclaims her the best audition of the season and the judges (sans Keith, he’s meeting his wife) stand up and Nicki wonders where she was (in Tennessee ever since your current employers booted her ass last year) all this time. Mariah wishes she had something released she could listen to and Nicki wishes she could skin her and wear her.
So Candice Glover was good, but am I missing the utter greatness they were…I am tempted to go back and listen to it again. Maybe tomorrow. Its after midnight. More commercials. Seems that Julienne Hough has taken Katherine Heigl’s spot as the star of forgettable films about people who love each other, which I guess is good for Gerald Butler and Josh Dumael oh-I-know-I-didn’t-spell-it-right. And the magic of computer animation assumes I will believe Jennifer Hudson met Jessica Simpson for lunch for the 5 minutes she was trim / not pregnant.
Distracted by the stupidity of people on Twitter discussing North Korea. People really have nary a clue about the country or its actual technologies and capabilities. The likelihood of the DPRK successfully launching—and landing—a nuclear warhead towards the U.S. is probably even less likely than a girl winning American Idol. And if you want to weep over the stupidity of our future, look no further than this really dumb teenager.
Ja’Bria is all nervous before she starts singing Pride & Joy and I think there was something about a bra. Ja’Bria’s voice is very 60s girl group. She has a nice smile. Are we done yet? Oh wait. We need to laugh at someone first…
Well, since we’re in North Carolina, its not an ethnic stereotype, just a erratic bald white dude dressed in modern modified gondelier attire. He used to rap under the name BACON. He sings A Whole New World from Aladdin. His voice sounds vaguely show-tuney, leading me to believe he’s really not all that sad or surprised he’s not making it through since I suspect Brad just wanted some screen time. $10 says he is the Charlotte Fox affiliate’s correspondant during the Finale episode.
Yawn. We can do it. We can do it. Just 8 more minutes (Wow. That was a 4-minute commercial break). Please say we see more of tattooed girl with the buzz cut. And yes, we should definitely smother more of the children with medium-sized Hello Kitty plushies. Oh wait, you’re our next contestant…you’re the LAST contestant of the night. Well Seretha Guinn COME ON DOWN.
London, are you ready for Mommy to meet Nicki Minaj? And then go to Hollywood…there was a bad accident and my boyfriend almost lost his life.
Cameraman: Ok, let’s shoot you standing against this brick column. Look down. Look forlorn.
London gave Nicki Minaj her own nickname—DunDun—its also her bear/Hello Kitty’s nickname. The kid is 3. I assume she calls most things DunDun. I guess its refreshing its not a guy with a wife or girlfriend in a hospital bed this time around. I guess its refreshing to sing the theme to The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. You didn’t have to also sing How Do I Live and everyone didn’t have to cry and Randy didn’t have to invoke Whitney Houston.
Yawn. Its late. I’m tired. I’m creatively blocked. But I am certain of one thing, er two things. I love Nicki Minaj and North Korea does not currently have an inter-continental ballistic missile (ICBM) that will reach the United States. So until this time tomorrow…goodnight and good f**king luck. Its cold out there.