I can't say I've reviewed every minute of the footage, so it's possible I've missed some great stuff. But here's what I found that I wanted to share with you all.
First up is Jack's Mannequin, hailing from the OC (home also to one of my favorite, underrated bands Offspring as wells as Social Distortion and No Doubt). I've seen their name around for years, yet never actually listened to any of their music before (hey, I've been busy). But, I like what I'm hearing from Coachella. There's a little U2 sound in there, the nicely layered alt-rock with pop sensibilities that I like.
The next song (which could have benefitted from the mic being on during the whole song -- opening acts get no respect) is more urgent, propulsive, and infectious a little reminiscent of ...The Academy is and Head Automatica. I dare you not to start bopping along by the end.
Broken Social Scene had me with the first note of the guitar. Boy, I'm easy. And they don't even have to be a good looking band (no offense)! I hope they're doing well since there are so many of them on stage -- that's a lot of mouths to feed. I read that they're from Canada, so if you meet them, speak slowly. The lead singer actually has a really nice voice -- even if I'm not sure if he just said that everyone wants to "eff" the cars. Well, if they do and make it sound so good, I'm all for it:
So I didn't realize I was familiar with Two Door Cinema Club until I heard this song (even with having Shazam on my iPhone I forget to catch the names of bands when I hear their songs on the radio). They're Irish, which I suppose explains the Ginger on lead vocals, and the slight accent when he sings. I'm torn about this band. Love the song, love the music, beat, melody, instrumentation, but, not really into the lead singer's voice.
The next song starts like they're going into a Foo Fighters' tune (which I'd totally be behind), but then it goes off in its own great direction. I'm going to have to consider focusing less on the vocals (except for Jimmy Sommervile, I'm not a fan of guys singing that high) and more on the music which is definitely solid.
If you 'd like to try any of their MP3 downloads, check them out here:
I've always wanted to go to Coachella, but the thought of driving so far just to stand out in 90+ degree weather for hours on end has kept it fairly low on my bucket list. Now that I can enjoy the music in the comfort of my overly air-conditioned house, it's moved further down, just above doing the Coney Island polar bear plunge (can you tell I have an issue with temperature extremes?).
So instead I put together my own mini concert of what I was tempted to shlep a great distance to see, but thankfully didn't have to.
First up is the cool guys from New York, Interpol. Having lost founding member Carlos Denger, there was a bit of a question mark surrounding the band's future. But the dour dudes most often compared with Joy Division for their dyspectic punk musings, still manage to connect. I thought they looked and sounded in fine form this weekend:
I don't know why Kings of Leon is such a polarizing band-- or perhaps it's only in my family where they are considered overrated and passe by some. I'm still a huge fan and would have loved to see this live, if I'd had a private temperature-controlled cabana with free running daiquiris.
While it may be inconsistent of me, and I've always thought consistency was the hobgoblin of little minds anyway, I like Flogging Molly even thought they utilize fiddles, banjos and accordions in their music. They do it with style.
Wow, I apparently can't get enough of the fiddle, because there's one prominently displayed in the Arcade Fire's set. If you're familiar with Arcade Fire, you probably know they were the upset winners of the Grammy for album of the year. I'm not sure I'd want to sit through an entire concert of theirs -- it might be a little too ponderous after a while -- but in small doses it's hard to argue with their talent.
For those of you who are fans of Casey James, you'll probably recognize the first song, "I Got Mine" by the Black Keys. The next was their breakout hit "Tighten Up."
I don't know what's more trippy, the music or the fan's video, but here's some Chemical Brothers (a few days early, probably better suited for 4/20).
Based on a recommendation, I checked out another of the acts performing this weekend at Coachella, the LA-based Warpaint. I hadn't heard of them before and a quick Wiki said they had formed in 2004, had a few alterations to their line up, and are currently an all-female, experiemental band. The first song I listened to was "Elephant," an atmostpheric and hypnotic song. Next was "Bees," and it's similary sexy, layered and moody. Check it out.
Friends, American Idol fans, blog readers, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Paul McDonald, not to praise him.
The manic drunk chicken dancing and thin croaky singing that men do lives after them;
The high wattage smile and Mariachi-inspired outfits are oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Paul. The noble AI voters
Hath told you Paul was quirky, fun, different:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Paul answer'd it.
Here, under leave of the AI voters who finally grew sick of the shtick.
(Apologies to any Shakespeare fans out there)
I promised a eulogy of Paul, so here goes. Paul McDonald came to American Idol a twenty-six-year-old with a dream. The lead singer and guitarist of the band Grand Magnolias, tired of peddling their records and tired of the grind of trying to be discovered in the music industry, took his unconventional voice to an AI audition and made it all the way to eighth place on Season 10 of American Idol. Prior to being on AI, Paul had recorded three albums, had a website where he sold merchandise, including a replica T-shirt of one of the gaudy outfits he later wore on AI, and had been touring with his current band and their earlier incarnation, Hightide Blues, for years. Not taking the hint, he decided that all he needed was wider exposure. But after making it to the top 13 of American Idol, he ended up the first male contestant eliminated.
That's about all the neutral material I can handle. If you've read any of my prior recaps on this season you know that I'm not a Paul McDonald fan. I've been wanting to see him gone since his first opened his mouth and croaked something only faintly resembling notes while gyrating insanely around the stage. Finally, that moment came.
I did not have the courage of my conviction following the performances Wednesday night to come out and predict Paul as the first male on whom the hammer would fall this season. The closest I came was saying: "No, I'm pretty sure it's Paul. He went first and he was awful, even on the Paul scale." But could Mr. Toad's Wild Ride really be over so soon? No. If the AI voters kept him over Pia and Thia and other talented women whose names don't rhyme, he had to have at least a few more lives left in him, I assumed. I'm sure there were more insane sartorial choices waiting to be unveiled. Maybe he had his own suit made of raw meat like Lady Gaga? Who knew what else might be lurking in his clothes closet of horror? The man never met a rhinestone he didn't want festooned all over him. So that would keep him around longer than he deserved, I figured.
But, finally, the audience realized that Paul's story was the opposite of the Emperor's New Clothes. The outfits were real, it was his vocal talent that was illusory. True, he managed to fool them for a while, but it was just a matter of time before his high octane antics, the outfits that Cee Lo Green might call "too much" and the sloshed gyrating, failed to hide the obvious flaws with his voice.
I have to give the guy credit. Paul was smart. Go with your strength. And for Paul it was never his singing. What Paul had in abundance was crazy. Crazy outfits, crazy dance moves, crazy vocal choices, crazy hair, crazy white teeth. He put on a show that was one part Vegas off-the-strip, one part multi car pileup, and one part One Flew Over the Cuckoo Nest. Stir with a swizzle stick. Paul is an entertainer and, from the messages I've received, there are actually -- no, hang in here, I know it's going to be hard to believe, but I'm not lying to you -- fans of his who are sorry to see him go.
I know. More crazy, right?
I've tried and put myself in their shoes and it's a tight fit (and not just because I have Italian feet that would be great for grape stomping, not so much for high heels). What I saw as desperate, they saw as exuberant. The whisper thin, shaky vocals that made me run for the Chloraseptic to try and help the poor guy, they heard as inspired. He was Rod Stewart, they'd say. I'd answer with maybe Rod Stewart's asthmatic, strep throat infected, "special" cousin. Sometimes strained, sometimes reedy, sometimes raspy and always pitchy, I would have thought this was a voice only a grandmother could love (and read the interview with his grandmother where she confesses to being the one who told him he could sing). But, no, he does have many fans out there.
His defenders would tell me, he has nodules on his vocal chords, that's why he sounds so hoarse. To which I'd reply, A ha! So I'm right about his voice being awful. You're just giving me the anatomical explanation. How then to explain why the judges NEVER MENTIONED anything was off about his voice? Why then continue to defend what my ears are hearing? And, if this is true, then why does every pre-Idol video I see of Paul have him sound exactly the same?
Paul is probably a really nice guy. He might even be a good songwriter and musician. If I try and ignore his vocals, some of the video I've heard of his pre-Idol original music isn't half bad. But, and I'm sorry to invoke the dreaded Simon Cowell here, this is still (if only now in part) a singing competition and I could not ignore what my ears hear. And, mercifully, the AI voters finally couldn't either.
Wait, what? Pia went home last week? How'd I miss that?
The rehashing of "the most shocking elimination ever" was expected. but watching it realizing that the sun did rise again and the world continued spinning puts it in a bit of perspective. No one died, no one was seriously injured. A reality contestant was sent home. Were JLo's tears really necessary?
Paul McDonald is up first with Old Time Rock and Roll by Bob Seger. The outfit is absurd but, like a peacock, maybe he's hoping to attract females with his gaudy plumage. Or perhaps he hopes people will spend the ninety seconds of his song commenting on his apparel, so they have to rely on the judges' unwavering praise rather than their own ears.
He looks silly and runs around onstage like he's half drunk, which I'm starting to wish I were if I'm going to have to sit through this whole show. Then he brings out a tambourine. As if the cheese factor could go any higher, he takes it from Camembert to Limburger. Only Paul can play a tambourine so oddly it is robbed of any musicality. He's actually whacking that think around like he's putting out a fire on his torso. He wheezes and rasps and croaks so much, I thought I was watching an anti-smoking commercial. It is more than a mockery of the notion of American Idol being a singing competition for Paul to still be on this show.
Randy says to Paul, "you're not a typical singer." If by that he means Paul doesn't care about notes or melody or tone or breath control, then he is correct. Paul is not a singer and he no longer takes the trouble to pretend. The roller coaster approach he took to this song, basically rewriting it as he was singing it, shows that even he knows his longevity in the show is due to the entertainment value of watching the Chiclets-toothed, Porter Waggoner-garbed, weed-whacker-coiffed contestant do his Cirque du So-So act on the stage. It has nothing at all to do with singing.
Next up is early front-runner Lauren Alaina who must be starting to worry that her gender handicap will be sending her packing her Dolly Parton inspired pageant dresses home pretty soon. She tells the mentors that she's singing The Climb by Miley Cyrus. The mentors immediately diss Billy Ray's little girl, telling Lauren you're a better singer than Miley. As if she didn't have enough trouble just being a female contestant on American Idol, they now take away any votes she might have had by upsetting the Disney crowd!
I expect great things from Lauren -- she has a terrific natural voice. But this song doesn't quite work for me. There is the problem of the chorus being built primarily around one note and the problem of Lauren singing as if she were nailed to one spot on the stage, which leaves it all a little...boring. The background singers drown her out, and even seem to cause her to question the pitch. What should have been a great shining moment comes off as high school talent show worthy. But nothing more. If this were Sing Better Than Miley Idol, she'd be in great shape. Unfortunately, you have to be memorable and exciting enough to get people to actually pick up a phone and call for you. A lot. And I'm not sure that's the kind of performance that will get that kind of action.
Stefano Langone tries to stay in this competition by singing his heart out on the Boyz II Men song End of the Road. One wonders if that is the best song title for someone who has been dancing so close to the edge of the abyss. Stefano starts out a little weak, but gets stronger. The problem is, he's singing the song about a half octave too high for his voice. I notice that the neighborhood dogs are starting to bay in unison. Maybe Stefano's pants are too tight or perhaps there wasn't time to readjust the music to a register that humans could readily hear, but he sounded forced and tight stretching for those notes. He sings with a pained expression, which could be the by-product of his strained vocal chords begging for mercy.
Randy name dropped some obscure member of the original band. Take a shot.
The other country singer, Scotty McCreery, is up next. He practiced Everybody's Talking by Harry Nilsson but then decided to go with George Strait's Cross My Heart. True confession, I've never heard this song before. I've heard of George Strait, I don't live under a rock. I just haven't actually ever heard any of his songs. At least not knowingly. So I don't know how Scotty's version held up to the original but I do know that on the plus side, Scotty is treating his microphone much nicer. He still is tempted to put that second hand up, as if the 13 ounce mic is too much for him to handle without additional support. But he's at least working on fighting that temptation.
As for the vocal? Like with Lauren, I usually love Scotty. But this time, I started dozing. Scotty's got great potential and at times his voice is amazing, but he's also young and it often shows. He needs to gain more control over the gift he has and that will come in time. I felt that the judges were close to letting him know this wasn't one of his best, JLo started out "you still performed it" and I would have stopped right there. But then she added some positive adjective and ruined what could have been an awkward, but honest, moment.
Casey Abrams wants to sing a jazz classic, but Jimmy warns him that when he sang it, he got small and they lost him. I'm excited at the prospect. Where's Casey? Don't know. He was here a minute ago, then he started singing and poof! Casey at first takes the suggestion to do another song, Phil Collins' In the Air Tonight, but (shades of Scotty) he won't feel comfortable unless he does what he knows he can do, blah, blah, artistic integrity, blah blah, be myself. Basically, what does Jimmy Iovine know? Jimmy's response? Casey better be right.
We can now identify the exact moment that American Idol as a franchise doomed itself. Casey Abrams, newly groomed with his rambunctious hair tamed and his wild whiskers neatly trimmed, took his upright bass and, in defiance of his would-be future boss, sang Nat King Cole's Nature Boy. Here are my notes of Casey's singing: boy-uh? boy-ah? It's one syllable! breathy. flat. gritting teeth. clearing his throat? grimace. scary serial killer look. camera mercifully pans back. closeup, more gritting teeth. raspy. searching for the note. off key. missed again. random notes. weird stares. Stealing from the Paul McDonald book of random shout-outs. grunt. creepy looks. attempt at scatting. shifty eyes. flat notes. squeaking. flat.
It reminded me of a beatnik poetry reading contest performed by an escapee from a mental ward. The word artistry was thrown around more than at a tribute to Van Gogh. Somehow, Casey Abrams has put a spell on the judges and convinced them (though, hopefully, not the voting public) that different, weird, unconventional equates with talent. A good jazz singer (and that's not an oxymoron, youngsters) sings what they feel and it's natural and organic and it just flows. What Casey does is the burlesque, hammy, mugging version of jazz. He intentionally, with malice aforethought, picks every grimace and grunt, every run and improv, to try and sound cool, edgy, hip. The more unrecognizable he can make the song, the better he thinks he comes across. He does this for a simple reason -- he does not have a traditionally good voice. So, the jazz genre is his vocal smoke and mirrors.
This would bother me less were the judges to assess him more fairly. But, following through with the "everyone is a special snowflake" conceit that pervades this season, they are not permitted to suggest that maybe Casey is not god's gift to music. That, perhaps, he is a good musician with an interesting taste in non-popular music who will be a great high school music teacher some day. But he is not the next American Idol.
If you want a comparison, this is what the original sounds like (note in the video the song's writer Eden Ahbez -- looks a little like Casey). This is singing:
Haley Reinhart is up next with one of my favorite songs, Call Me, by Blondie. For once, I didn't hate Haley. She cut her grunting down to a bare minimum, she sang the song with enough Deborah Harry swagger (I name drop, take a shot) to mask a few random missed notes. I find it pretty entertaining. The stripper vibe she throws off, the slinky prowling around the stage, the screaming -- they all work for the song perfectly. I even love the way she played around with the melody. Nice!! So what do the judges do? They certainly know how vulnerable women are in this competition and they realize that their slight criticism of Pia last week sent her to the reality TV show gallows. They'll be careful in what they say to Haley, right?
Not so much. Haley meet bus. Bus flatten Haley. Randy pulls out the dreaded K word. Randy who has up till now conveniently forgotten his nine prior seasons on the show and the hundreds of prior critiques he's given for anything short of perfection, suddenly turns back into the Randy of old. He improperly calls her (different) version karaoke. Then he tells her that's not a singer's song, not one where she can show what she can do vocally (despite the fact that it's the best she's sounded all season). Steven agrees! And so does JLo...even while admitting that to do so is basically sending Haley to Siberia. "It wasn't the best" is the equivalent of "if you vote for her, we'll shoot the puppy."
Jacob Lusk gets a stern warning from Jimmy. You're lucky to have survived preaching to the American people. Hmm, who would ever have thought that talking down to the voters was a bad idea? Oh, everyone but Jacob. Right. Now that the powers that be realize Jacob cannot be trusted in guiding his own future on the show, they decide to take over. Jimmy doesn't like either of the songs Jacob has chosen (so corny they could have fueled a cross country trek in a pick-up) and instead gives him the gift of Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon and Garfunkel. Jacob says little before singing, just that he hopes America likes it. Perhaps he's hoping that his picture will be moved from the dictionary definition of "hubris" over to "contrite."
It's a sedate, lyrical song. There's no way he can put his Lusky Stank on this. Well, he is more restrained than usual, I'll give him that. I mean, doctors can still run a colonoscopy on him through his gaping mouth, but at least he doesn't sound like he's passing a kidney stone the size of Ryan Seacrest like usual. But, he also had huge pitch problems that haven't plagued him in the past. I don't know if it's the background singers or the effort of trying to not go for that killer note, but he was way flat and way off key to the point that I suddenly thought Lee DeWyze was back on my TV.
But what will the judges say? Well, let me put it this way -- I hope the judges were using protection, with all that humping going on. They also better have enough class to at least call him the next day.
Once again, a contestant wants to do their own thing. Ignore the experts, follow their gut. Brilliant idea. You had such a successful career as a musician that you had to come on a game show to get noticed. What does that guy who produced U2 and Stevie Nicks and Patti Smith and Tom Petty know about music? But I digress. My favorite, James Durbin, is going to do it his way, which is bring on the rock.
I learned two things thanks to James Durbin's electrifying (get it?) performance of Heavy Metal by Sammy Hagar. One is the correct spelling of Zakk Wylde's name. Two, that maybe I was too hard on heavy metal as a musical genre throughout the seventies and eighties. It -- and he -- sounded great. So kudos for salvaging the show with the one solid vocal of the night. James has an amazing set of pipes and he manages to make it seem effortless to hit notes that others can only dream of. Having said that, points off for the guitar solo in the middle of your song. It's fine...if you're the one playing the guitar. Not so much when you're doing your "whoa, I'm pretty limber" move and some other dude is doing all the hard musical work.
One more name drop by Randy, take another shot!
So after my brilliant prognostication last week, I'm destined to get it way wrong this time. But I will not back down out of fear.
My top three: James, Haley (that one hurt, just a little) and Lauren (zzzzz)
My bottom three: Paul, Casey and Jacob
Predicted bottom three: Paul, Casey and Haley
Sent home: If "Nature Boy" hadn't trended on Twitter, I'd say Casey, so I'll go with Paul. But the Vote for the Worst guys might turn out enough votes to save him one more week. Haley was thrown under the bus and she lacks that Y chromosome that seems to be all the rage with AI voters, and that usually spells doom. No, I'm pretty sure it's Paul. He went first and he was awful, even on the Paul scale. But Casey was so cosmically horrible in an unpopular genre. Okay, I'm not wimping out. Casey. That's my final answer.
Tonight the top eight on American Idol take on songs from the movies. I will be shocked if Jacob Lusk doesn't take this opportunity to sing "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic. But he also could go with something from the Barbra Streisand oeuvre, especially, "Papa, Can You Hear Me?' which would seem right in his wheelhouse. Of course, there's plenty of Liza and Judy for him to pick from, or he can follow Fantasia's lead and take on "Summertime." This should be the week he bounces back from his bottom three placement. Just don't insult the audience, and you'll be fine, you Lusky thing.
As for the remaining seven, it would seem to be Stefano Langone and Haley Reinhart who will have to work the hardest to stay in the competition. Stefano has not only taken up permanent residence in the bottom three (they're thinking of naming one of the stools after him), but he will be singled out as the one responsible for sending Pia home last week. Haley has girl parts and we know that's a killer for any AI contestant. Better to hide them (see, for example, Lillith Fair-esque Crystal Bowersox and non-threatening kid sister Jordin Sparks) than flaunt them.
Speaking of girls having a rough road on this show, I love the picture of the eight remaining. Notice how Lauren Alaina is holding on to James and Scotty for dear life? She's smiling on the outside, but inside she's thinking, "I don't want to be this season's Katie Stevens! Help me!! Please don't let them vote me off, I want to stay with you!!"
I'm not going to do a traditional recap. I really have nothing to say about the song medley or the Ford commercial or any of the "most shocking elimination" buildup. Okay, maybe just one thing. If you watch the first ten seconds of the medley you will see just how cosmically unfair life is -- Haley Reinhart opens and barely squeaks out her lines her voice so thin and raspy it can barely carry sound, then Lauren Alaina follows with a stronger vocal, and then Pia Toscano comes in and blows them away. Also, why must Casey Abrams intentionally do his Cowardly Lion roar every time he sings? While we're on the medley, let's never put Paul and Scotty together again -- they were to harmony what Charlie Sheen is to mental stability. And who dressed Jacob Lusk? All right, I'm done. Oh, gawd, Scotty two-handing the mic again. Sheesh, at least buy it dinner first.
No, what I want to talk about is the actual result, and why I predicted it. But first, did anyone else think that Iggy Pop's performance should have come with a parental advisory because I'm sure the half naked senior citizen gyrating on stage was scaring small children. I did enjoy Russell Brand's bit with the contestants and thought it was refreshing to hear a little honesty on the show, even though he missed the mark with the "gorgeous hair ball of wonder." At a later time we can discuss the unfairness of the fact that unattractive guys can get hot girls, but it doesn't usually work in the other direction.
Now for the results. I'm not above patting myself on the back and I probably tweeted a half dozen times last night how I picked who was going home. No, what I want to discuss why I thought Pia would go home, why she'd be joined by Stefano and why I missed on my third pick.
I vacillated on who would take that final spot for some time and was tempted to put Jacob there. He went first, he didn't sing particularly well, he didn't do any of the over-the-top Broadway big notes that had been his signature (which confuses the public -- they don't like change) and, most importantly, he said one of the most stupid things a contestant could say on American Idol: "
If I end up in the bottom three, it won't be because I sang the song bad and it won't be because I sang the song wrong. It'll be because everybody in America wasn't ready to look themselves in the mirror."
That should go down in AI lore as the time a contestant tried to commit career suicide on national TV and was lucky to walk away with just a flesh wound. You don't ever challenge or attack the people whose votes you need. I thought they might punish him by withholding their love this week, yet I thought that the weeks of judges' pimping would be enough to keep him out of the cellar. I was glad to be wrong about this one and now Jacob has been introduced to one of my favorite philosophical concepts -- karma.
But why did I know Stefano and Pia were in trouble. First, the biggest change in American Idol this year has been the move from the mean-spirited criticism (except on this blog, zing!) for the new age everyone is special approach. Because someone realized that what I said last year is true (I'm going to wrench my arm if I keep this self-congratulatory stuff going): you can't tell the public week after week the contestants stink, then ask them to buy their records or tickets to see them in concert. This year, they've done a 180. Best group ever. Most talented top whatever ever. That was great, that was off the chart, that gave me goosepimples (really, JLo, goosebumps sound better), best ever, amazing...well, you've heard it for weeks.
The old AI approach was flawed, but having virtually unwaveringly positive things to say about each and every contestant does not give the public much to go on in making their own opinions. And, as much as we don't want to face it, the viewers are influenced to some extent by what the judges say. So if everyone is always wonderful, how to choose? Then it comes down to the old standbys -- likability and who can turn out the vote. And not just one vote, but unlimited voting for two hours. Who are the contestants most likely to get that kind of support -- usually, guys, which is why we've lost so many of the girls from the competition.
The problem with the new, improved no-criticism approach is that when anything that seems in the least bit negative is said, it is really noticeable. The smallest fissure in the wall of acceptance can bring the whole thing down. And that is what happened to Stefano and Pia on Wednesday night. Randy had a tepid response to Stefano's set and his lack of gushing was a focal point of the judges' post-performance comments. This highlighted for the fans at home -- he's not getting our unified chorus of praise.
For Pia, it was worse. She had, remember, a perfect vocal. Impeccable. She can sing like no one else in the competition. However, after the song, Jennifer Lopez put the focus on what she perceived to be Pia's lack of stage presence. "I'm going to keep pushing you," she told Pia. She went on to tell Pia what she needed to do to get to the next level -- all valid points, by the way -- then finished it up with a plea that Pia not take her suggestions the wrong way. But by saying that, the impression the viewers had was -- wow, she was really hard on Pia. If JLo -- who loves Haley for crying out loud (and I do when I think of that) -- is not 100% behind Pia, why should we be?
Everything on TV is amplified and heightened by virtue of being on TV. So the slightest hesitation, a little dip in you voice, a slightly less than effusive expression comes across as a big "NO!" Even JLo's apology to Pia made it look like she was being more critical than she was.
Perception is reality.
So the combination of Pia being a woman and not getting the unqualified praise was what I thought was going to spell big time trouble for her. With unlimted voting, the female contestants should each be placed on the endangered species list. As I said in my last post, "girls are dropping like -- well -- girl contestants on American Idol." Haley is still in it because, while her voice is subpar, she is not boring. And boring is the deathknell on this show. Lauren is still in because the country fans are getting out the vote and she's not as threatening to women as the stunningly gorgeous Pia.
I'm sad to see Pia go, especially as Jacob going after his comments would have given this otherwise lackluster season a highlight I'd remember longer than I remember who was voted off in 13th place. Anyone? I didn't think so.
"I used to feel so uninspired...." So wrote the unmentioned songwriting genius behind "Natural Woman," Carole King. That pretty much sums up how I felt after watching the Top 9 of American Idol perform songs from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. There were no train wrecks, no disasters, nothing that would inspire a 24 hour news channel to create new graphics and pulsating intro music. And there were no transcendentally memorable moments -- not that you could tell from all the judges' lavish praise.
Truly, "karaoke" was the theme of the night. Everyone, with one notable exception, sang fine. Even my usual go-to guys, Jacob Lusk and Paul McDonald, were not as brilliantly awful as they usually are. But that does not make for an exciting show. Quick, try and name one performance that you will remember a year from now. A year ago on Idol, Casey James sang "Jealous Guy" and recently it was one of the choices in a recent poll of the most memorable Idol moments of the past nine years. Can you think of a performance last night that will be talked about tomorrow let alone a year from now?
But, as the saying goes, the show must go on and so I will try and muster some enthusiasm about this recap.
The first one up was Jacob Lusk, usually the Don Quixote to my Cervantes. When I heard him in rehearsal trying to be sexy singing Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On," I thought it must be my birthday. He sounded possessed and was spewing random guttural sounds like Linda Blair projected pea soup. He looked terrified, perhaps because he could hear himself. But, no, he was afraid of singing something so sexy -- so nasty. Ooooh-kay. Yeah, he'll have a great career as an R&B or pop singer eschewing anything related to sex.
So instead Jacob decides to sing a song by Michael Jackson, and I immediately wonder if MJ is still off limits as joke fodder. I'm guessing probably. Let's just say I've always thought that one of the most ironic pairings between a song and a singer was "Man in the Mirror." Jacob sings it and it feels much more comfortable for him and he's confident that he'll do well. You want to know why? Because, and I quote Jacob here: "if I end up in the bottom three, it won't be because I sang the song bad and it won't be because I sang the song wrong. It'll be because everybody in America wasn't ready to look themselves in the mirror." I actually did a doubletake, sure that I misheard him. But my trusty DVR showed me that my ears are just fine, he really did just say that.
I'm not sure I've ever been both insulted and threatened by an Idol contestant before. It's an interesting voting strategy -- vote for me or the terrorists win. What's worse, his face was so sincere, I think he really believes this. So, I can't comment on the silly finger snapping. The annoying vibrato he whipped out this week. The fact that he can't sing the high notes during the chorus. His awkward "dancing" and pelvic thrusts (isn't that nasty, Jacob?). Or the fact that he sounds like he's underwater when he sings. Because if I do, I'm apparently in favor of poverty, war and everything else bad.
After the commercial, it's Haley Reinhart singing Janis Joplin's "Piece of my Heart." Apparently, we can blame the judges for this pairing because, when they couldn't think of what to say to Haley, they kept trodding out the name of the only rocker chick they could think of. Haley is no Janis and what she does to this song should at least required her to spend the next four months in an orange jumpsuit cleaning trash on the side of the freeway.
Now, I know what I'm about to say may be shocking. But Haley can't sing. It's a little known fact that everyone has conspired to keep secret. When she grunts and growls it's meant to distract from the fact that she doesn't know what else to do vocally. I don't know who it was that told her that mimicking an idling motorcycle randomly revving at a red light was a great idea, but it sounds forced and fake and not at all musical.
Casey Abrams rehearsed "Every Little Thing" by the Police and it seemed an obvious choice for him as it was the last (and only) time that anyone with a hit record played stand up bass. Again, I'm excited. The mentors are not digging his performance and complaining about the finger snapping (did you hear that, Jacob) and his overall "Sammy" vibe. Hallelujah, they finally notice what I've been saying forever, that his shtick is tired and sounds like an old Vegas lounge act. But, alas, this is not to be. Like Jacob, he changes his song choice and I'm more angry than disappointed.
He's singing one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands, Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?" He grits his teeth and grunts and smiles awkwardly (check out the first time he sings the title). He reminds me of Billy Crystal's SNL character, the old blues guy. It's "day" not "day-uh" dude. He flies around the melody, he goes off key and back on, he sputters and shouts, all while making odd faces to the unlucky camera circling him. Barely moving his left hand, I suddenly think I should try stand up bass. Finally, an instrument that looks easy!
Salvation seems to be here in the person of one of my favorites, Lauren Alaina. She's introduced as singing the mis-attributed "Natural Woman." Yes, Aretha sang the hell out of that song, but so did the song's writer. I'm looking forward to finally hearing someone who can sing, but as she starts I find myself overcome with disappointment. Then it occurs to me, perhaps a 16 or 17 year old needs a little more life experience before they can carry this song. She sounds fine, her voice is always good, but there was nothing behind the eyes. There was a total disconnect between the song and the singing.
I've been waiting for James Durbin, knowing that rock is his genre and he's going to melt my face. But instead, he goes the other way and takes the sweet, if lyrically anemic, "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," by George Harrison. In rehearsal, James' voice is heartbreakingly beautiful, but on stage it's not as pure and evocative. It's still good and he continues to prove he's the best male vocalist in the competition and that his Lambert-esque excesses are for extra flavor not to mask lack of talent. He tears up at the end and while I'm pretty cynical, it seems genuine and makes me feel sad that the performance he left on stage did not measure up to that emotion.
Scotty McCreery does Elvis. Or at least tries to. He runs around the stage singing "That's alright, Mama" and at first I wonder how he can learn such complicated lyrics in just a week? But early rock was not about the message so much as the feeling. And, for better or worse, that's what Scotty brought. He went full rocker, going up to sing around the judges and all over the set and seemed to have a blast. He doesn't have the King's swagger, but his voice is very good, as always, and it's nice that he could show a different side of himself. However, I wish there were a class "Holding Your Mic 101" that Scotty could take, because the two-handed, turn the mic sideways look is so distracting. It's looks like a drunk wedding singer trying to hold on to the mic and I worry he'll scare small children. But have no fear, they instead see the two-handed hold as reminiscent of the pied piper and come charging him after the song.
Last week Pia Toscano told us that she was going to change it up this week and finally stop with the ballads, and she delivered singing Tina Turner's version of "River Deep, Mountain High." I know I'm going to sound like a broken record (a reference kids may not get any more), but she has two-thirds of the package. She looks great and has the best voice of any of the women, probably the best in the competition. But she has yet to learn how to perform. I'm reminded of Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood who both came to Idol with remarkable voices but had to learn how to deliver the performance to match the vocals. I hope Pia is allowed to stay on by the voters to develop that other piece of the puzzle. If she doesn't she'll be a great back up singer, but won't get the spotlight.
Stefano Langone takes on "When a Man Loves a Woman," by Percy Sledge. He has a nice voice (does he remind anyone else of Season 9's Andrew Garcia??), but there's no there there. He just doesn't make me want to hear more. I did enjoy how he ignored will.i.am's repeated instruction -- complete with fully acted out scenes -- on how to sing the song's title. Don't rush it. Start it and then go out for a sandwich. It was inspired -- and entirely disregarded.
At long last, it's Paul McDonald. Let's try and figure out what song he should pick. Well, he bounces around on stage when he's not playing his guitar, he's got a blindingly white smile permanently plastered on his face and he's goofy. So of course he chooses a song by the Man in Black, Johnny Cash. No, not the funny, silly, "Boy Named Sue," but the wistful, tortured "Folsom Prison Blues." And moments later Paul is standing on the stage, his bright smile a mile wide, singing "I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die." Way to connect with a song, dude.
Here's the hard part -- he actually sounded the best he has all season. Maybe he's found his genre, boogie woogie meets country. I have to agree with Steven Tyler's assessment -- imperfectly perfect. Everything that's wrong about his voice -- and there's really too much to mention here -- somehow works tonight. It's still shaky and creaky and trembly and tuneless. But tonight it worked. I think I need to lie down.
So my bottom three tonight: Casey, Haley and Jacob
Predicted bottom three: Stefano, Lauren and Pia
Going home: Pia
Hope I'm wrong, but girls are dropping like -- well -- girl contestants on American Idol, and the public does not like to be bored and good singing, with nothing more, is boring.
The episode starts out with the drama level wratcheted either up to Shakespearan or down to Daytime TV levels, as they remind us that there will be a double elimination tonight. If this were a medical drama, and not a singing contest, I might have turned the channel, not wanting to see that. But, instead, I was looking forward to perhaps ridding myself of at least one of the singers whose voice, demeanor,and/or performance has been providing more than its share of grist for the blogging mill. Certainly, one of the unholy trinity of Casey-Jacob-Paul would fall tonight, and my faith in the American voter restored. Yeah, right.
But first, that rascally Ryan said they were changing it up tonight and instead of the awkward group numbers -- which only serve to show how difficult it is to: a) dance b) harmonize or c) do both at the same time -- the contestants would be broken up into smaller groups. First up is the country duo Scotty McCreery and Lauren Alaina, singing "I Told You So," which got me wondering why my husband never told me he'd written a country song. I continue to be immensely impressed with both of the country kids. I then recall that I picked Justin Guarini Season One, so perhaps my taste is open to debate.
I liked their duet, and yes post all the "country music is growing on you" comments you'd like, I'm thinking they're country-lite. Or maybe that compared to what I know is coming later, I'm thrilled to have to people on stage who actually sing well. True, Scotty was laying the twang on a tad thick and I thought a couple times he might have a chicken bone stuck in his throat that he was trying to dislodge. But, once he matures, he'll probably get better control over his voice and not let it do its own thing. Though Scotty is enamored of his deep register, I think he's a lot more successful when he sings higher. I have no reservations about Lauren. Love her voice, the tone, the power, the little country "cry." I've read the critiques about her, but I just don't see it.
After their song is over, they are told that they're each safe which surprises absolutely no one.
The next duo is Naima Adedapo and Jacob Lusk, singing Ashford and Simpson's "Solid." I don't know if it's because he's signing with someone else, or because he has to fake his way through a love song, but Jacob was somewhat in control of his usually unrestrained, typically histrionic vocals. If you don't look at him while he's singing, and notice the exertion which again brings up the specter of an elimination, Jacob actually sounds -- and I know I'm going to hell for this -- good. It was a nice duet and makes me wish Naima had not taken that unnecessary risk the night before with her silly SNL skit as Ganja Girl. That performance sends Naima to the stool of doom while Jacob heads to the couch of comfort.
Was Fantasia always that helium filled? She sings a song called "Collard Greens and Cornbread," and I wonder if it was written while someone was ordering at a Southern restaurant? I'm doing a deli version called "Latkes and Tsimmes." You'll kvell.
The next group to perform is Thia Megia, Haley Reinhart and Pia Toscano. Haley actually starts the grunting on the second word of the lyrics. Really? When I think Katy Perry, I don't usally associate painful guttural sounds. Now her husband, Russell Brand, maybe. Haley is a one trick pony and once she blows her vocal chords, she'll have nothing but her burlesque moves to fall back on. I love Pia and Thia's voices, usually, but neither was benefitted by the lightweight pop song. What to make of the fact that Thia was not given a solo? Oh, she's in the bottom three. That was subtle.
Equally understated was the way they handled last week's save of Casey Abrams and his resulting Oscar moment. They squeezed enough sympathy out of that to keep Casey around for weeks to come. I think James Franco playing the hiker cutting off his own arm showed more restraint, but I'm not going to rehash Casey's reaction to the save. Let's just agree to disagree.
So we have two of the bottom three stools filled and the remaining four contestants will sing a group number and then one of them will join the ladies. The last group has James Durbin, Casey Abrams, Stefano Langone and Paul McDonald. Did you know that the ugly suit Paul wore (for the second time) last week is sold in T-shirt form on his band's website? I'm not suggesting you go out and buy it, I'm sure Paul is all about the music and his artistic integrity and not about hawking a gaudy outfit for money. I just thought I'd mention it in case you were wondering if the show did away with its wardrobe budget this year.
Paul he opens up the group's take on what Paul McCartney was doing while John Lennon was writing "Mind Games." The insipid "Band on the Run" was not exactly McCartney's shining post-Beatle moment and it's hard for anyone to sound worse than the original. But, these four are up to the challenge.
Paul whispers his way through the first couple of bars, ignoring pitch and melody, so that when the other vocals come in it's actually painful. The brief, "If We Ever Get Out of Here," part is a cacaphonous mess (as you would expect pairing one good singer -- James and Stefano -- with a poor one -- Paul and Casey). It isn't until James comes in for a brief solo that this song can be somewhat salvaged. Ryan says nice one and good job and Steven Tyler offers them the opening spot for Aerosmith next year and I, for the umpteenth time, wonder if the response to the meanness and unhelpfulness of last year's judges really has to be doling out excessive false praise. Happy medium, anybody?
Next non-shocker of the night, Casey is safe. Wow, that's weird because the prior times the judge's save was used the next week that contestant was...oh, right, safe. James is deservedly the next one sent to safety, leaving Stefano and Paul as the last two. I picked Stefano to be in the bottom not because of his voice, but because I figured if one of the judges can't get his name right, it's unlikely he's made much of an impression with the viewing/voting public either.
But to my surprise and great pleasure, while the cameraman is zooming in for Stefano's reaction shot as he is given the bad news, the judge's pet Paul is instead the one told he's in the bottom three. The judges may love his quirky, unique, different style, but the voters hear only a cat being dragged behind a lawnmower. I am smugly happy, or happily smug, with this final member of the bottom three and with two going home, I'm hopeful that I won't ever have to hear Paul croak his way through another song.
But no. Perhaps the Blogger gods recognized that if Jacob sings well next week, and Paul is gone, I'd have nothing to write about. So they spared him, and me, kicking out the vocally gifted but too young Thia and the entertaining but not right for this show Naima. Two of the Judges' wild card picks, Naima and Ashthon Jones, have been eliminated, with only Stefano remaining from that group. Stefano, you might want to consider packing.
Next week's theme is music from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It raises many questions. How will Pia find another ballad to sing defiantly, if well, as she continues to ignore the judges' concern? What song can Casey put his crazy, kooky, too cool for school spin on, possibly while playing some oversized instrument? Will Jacob be able to build on the good will he established by actuall singing, not raping, a song on Thursday night? How happy is Scotty McCreery that Chet Atkins and Johnny Cash are in the Hall of Fame?
And the biggest question of all -- how is it that the Replacements are not in the Hall of Fame?
Some say that I have been brutally honest, others say just plain brutal, in my weekly critiques of American Idol contestant Paul McDonald. The 26-year-old singer (?) from Alabama has been fronting the band The Grand Magnolias (previously Hightide Blues, proving just how hard it is to come up with a decent name for a band) since 2005. They have recorded an LP and set up shop in Nashville, but not yet hit it big.
In an attempt to get him and his band a wider audience, he auditioned for Season 10 of American Idol. Despite the fact that his singing voice is comprised of creaks and breaks, hoarseness and shaky whispers, he has made it thus far to the top 9. What I hear as a broken down car crashing through a dilapidated, haunted house, fingernails slowly dragged across a chalkboard, or a rasp being pulled across a jagged rock, others hear as "quirky" and "unique."
He sounds like Rod Stewart, some say. Others remind us that Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan. I will not sully any of those great artists by paying any heed to these farfetched comparisons. But, the discussion of a singer not being able to sing -- which one would think would be a deal breaker on a singing competition show -- caused me to think about singers who I have liked who might not have traditionally good voices. Resulting in this, a list of my favorite singers who can't sing -- but who I love despite their vocal shortcomings.
Elvis Costello -- While his aim is true, his voice sounds a lot more like someone under water or perhaps choking on phlegm. The older he gets, the more aggravating'y awful his voice is. But he wrote this, What's So Funny 'bout (Peace, Love and Understanding), Watching the Detectives and Radio, Radio, so all is forgiven.
Arlo Guthrie -- He brought nasally signing to a new high, or low, depending on how much of a stickler you are for proper singing technique. You could tell he was influenced as much by Bob Dylan's legendary shortcomings as a vocalist as his prowess as a songwriter.
Graham Parker -- He can't sustain a note, his voice gets awkwardly twisted around the words he's trying to articulate and he has no power. Oh, and he sings too high, his voice gets weaker as the song goes on, and he has a really creepy sound augmented by a slight rasp. So why is The Mona Lisa's Sister in heavy rotation on my iTunes?
Jackson Browne -- He has been quoted as saying, "I never was a very good singer," and I remember he once told a story of him siging up in his room and his father asking what that horrible noise was. But he sang well enough, if not traditionally well, to sell his songs.
Billy Corgan -- He is of course a brilliant songwriter and, as with the others on this list, I cut him slack because of that. But knowing what his voice sounds like -- a cat being choked and electrified at the same time -- the fact that he would cover one of the most beautiful songs ever written just tickles me to no end. And you know what, with all his squawking and sputtering, I love his version.
John Darnelle -- I think he only has one key, and it's flat. It is more spoken-word than singing. He's never been taught about breath control, or singing from your diaphragm, or how not to sing through your nose. He was busy learning how to write songs that cut right through your heart.
Ben Folds -- He doesn't even try and sing, basically talking his way through most of the song, before trying to squeak out the melody in a voice so flat and tuneless you think the Brick of the title is an apt analogy.
Tom Petty -- The owner of possibly the most grating voice in all of music, Petty is a talented as writing songs as he is incapable of singing them in a pleasing manner. When he gets to the chorus and has to sing in the higher register, it's as painful to hear as it seems to be on his poor, strained vocal chords. But I woudn't want him to stop if it meant no more songs this good.
Here's Paul McDonald singing his own material, a song called American Dreams. For me, the song is not nearly in the caliber of any of the songs above -- it's typical lightweight, forgettable pop. If you can't sing well, you need to overcompensate with your songwriting. Until he does that, I'll continue to point out his vocal deficits in my American Idol recaps -- especially since not to do so would be like shooting into a barrell of fish and missing.
, hailing from the OC (home also to one of my favorite, underrated bands Offspring as wells as Social Distortion and No Doubt). I've seen their name around for years, yet never actually listened to any of their music before (hey, I've been busy). But, I like what I'm hearing from Coachella. There's a little U2 sound in there, the nicely layered alt-rock with pop sensibilities that I like.
had me with the first note of the guitar. Boy, I'm easy. And they don't even have to be a good looking band (no offense)! I hope they're doing well since there are so many of them on stage -- that's a lot of mouths to feed. I read that they're from Canada, so if you meet them, speak slowly. The lead singer actually has a really nice voice -- even if I'm not sure if he just said that everyone wants to "eff" the cars. Well, if they do and make it sound so good, I'm all for it: 
until I heard this song (even with having Shazam on my iPhone I forget to catch the names of bands when I hear their songs on the radio). They're Irish, which I suppose explains the Ginger on lead vocals, and the slight accent when he sings. I'm torn about this band. Love the song, love the music, beat, melody, instrumentation, but, not really into the lead singer's voice. 
and 
and 
and 
know about music? But I digress. My favorite, 
-- While his aim is true, his voice sounds a lot more like someone under water or perhaps choking on phlegm. The older he gets, the more aggravating'y awful his voice is. But he wrote this, What's So Funny 'bout (Peace, Love and Understanding), Watching the Detectives and Radio, Radio, so all is forgiven. 
-- He brought nasally signing to a new high, or low, depending on how much of a stickler you are for proper singing technique. You could tell he was influenced as much by Bob Dylan's legendary shortcomings as a vocalist as his prowess as a songwriter.
-- He can't sustain a note, his voice gets awkwardly twisted around the words he's trying to articulate and he has no power. Oh, and he sings too high, his voice gets weaker as the song goes on, and he has a really creepy sound augmented by a slight rasp. So why is The Mona Lisa's Sister in heavy rotation on my iTunes?
-- He has been quoted as saying, "I never was a very good singer," and I remember he once told a story of him siging up in his room and his father asking what that horrible noise was. But he sang well enough, if not traditionally well, to sell his songs.
-- He is of course a brilliant songwriter and, as with the others on this list, I cut him slack because of that. But knowing what his voice sounds like -- a cat being choked and electrified at the same time -- the fact that he would cover one of the most beautiful songs ever written just tickles me to no end. And you know what, with all his squawking and sputtering, I love his version.
-- I think he only has one key, and it's flat. It is more spoken-word than singing. He's never been taught about breath control, or singing from your diaphragm, or how not to sing through your nose. He was busy learning how to write songs that cut right through your heart.
-- He doesn't even try and sing, basically talking his way through most of the song, before trying to squeak out the melody in a voice so flat and tuneless you think the Brick of the title is an apt analogy.