I Can't Stand the Rain. AI Re-cap 1/17/07

Evening two of Idol auditions kicks off tonight in Seattle and after what happened last night in Minneapolis and with all the negative buzz surrounding the Pacific Northwest, this broadcast figures to be as craptacular as the previous one. Surfing around on the net last night and this morning after posting my re-cap, I kept noticing the same thing everywhere I went; Idol fans have had enough of the lousy audition shows. We’re one episode in and already the complaints have been registered loud and long- no one buys the fake bad auditions, no one cares about the goofballs; start hooking the viewers with the people we’re going to follow, at least through Hollywood. People want to be invested in this show from the beginning, but I know of a large number of them who refuse to watch until the Top 24 because of all the dull shenanigans the producers play. Last night, seventeen people made it through to Hollywood. Of that number, we only met seven of them, yet we were treated to extended scenes of people we’ll never see again, making complete assholes out of themselves. There was no reason to show Jessica Rhode cry and cry and cry like she was at an Irish wake. And the lesbian with the tie who couldn’t remember the words to “Kiss,” clocked in 50% more screen time than if she had sung the entire song. Producers- listen to what your fan base is saying and I guarantee, you’ll pull in even more viewers than you could even imagine. Okay, soapbox begone.

Back to Seattle and, well, it’s raining. Let me just say that I adore Seattle. It’s one of my favorite cities, I’m a huge Mariners fan, I’ve visited multiple times during every different season and not once while I was there has it ever rained. Personally, I think it’s a myth. I think Nigel had to go out of pocket for rain machines to perpetuate the cliché. Honestly, if you ever want to go to Seattle and have guaranteed good weather, bring me along. And if there’s a Mariners game happening, I might even put out. However, on this day, I wasn’t around to sprinkle some mojo, so it is quite wet. In the middle of Key Arena and 9000 Idol hopefuls sits Brandon Groves from Wheeling, West Virginia. Apparently, Brandon ran into Monroe Moody from Minneapolis, who sold him his Apollo Creed outfit and probably some magic beans to go with it. Brandon, you may remember (for those of you who haven’t given you brain a thorough Silkwood scrubbing of last year’s auditions), auditioned last season dressed in his police uniform singing “I Shot the Sheriff.” No, not the song, just that line, over and over and over. Perhaps some industrious DJ could sample him doing Clapton, as well as Tashawn singing “Women not girls rule my world,” set them to a 4/4 beat and come up with a hot club hit. They are actually letting this buffoon sing again.

Next up is Jennifer Chapton, AKA “The Hotness.” Whether that’s her term or the show’s is yet to be determined, but I can solemnly swear it did not come from me. Jennifer is wearing what looks to be an Old Navy one piece from their Waikiki collection of 1998, amply harnessing her lumpen, half baked breasts, sports a chin mole with a hair growing out of it long enough to be spit curled and borrowed at least one chin from Taylor Hicks. Jennifer discusses the origins of “The Hotness,” so she has no one to blame for that but herself. She claims to not have a style like anyone else (don’t they all?) but when pressed, shyly admits she’s most like Mariah. Is that singing or bad taste in clothes? Jennifer enters the room and immediately, Paula busts her for chewing gum. This can only mean one thing- there’s still Coca-Cola in her cup. Jennifer will be singing “Tenderoni.” The Hotness is a hot mess and is finally stopped by the judges. She immediately gets defensive in that way when you’ve been totally humiliated, but you don’t have the verbal skills to fight back, so you start babbling and flop sweating and compounding the humiliation tenfold. Just shoot your mole hair across the room like Spidey’s web and get the hell out of the room. Instead, Jennifer blusters her way into doing another song that no one has given her permission for before shuffling off to curse into the camera and declare her hotness was just too hot for Simon. I’m actually disappointed she didn’t make it through because I just noticed another hideous defect; girlfriend has a tri-fold earlobe. Imagine, week after week, getting to play “Spot the Deformity,” with Jennifer Chapton. Alas, it’s not to be.

Commercial break and we’re back with a slew of rejections before being introduced to Amy Salgado, who is a 23 year old stay at home mom with a 6 year old son. From the looks of Amy, I’d say she was the luckiest person alive to even get the babydaddy to marry her, let alone not require her to work. Why is she trying to tempt fate? Amy says her husband feels she’s wasting her time. Amy thinks he just doesn’t want her to go to Hollywood and leave him with the kid. She enters the audition and says to the panel that she is going to “try and sing” Christina Aguilera. I give the gal props for honesty, but when Paula presses her on the statement, she says she has had a cold for a week and a half. I believe it’s that no-talent bug that’s been going around. Nasty stuff. Amy tanks, then pulls the old water trick from last night. I swear, if someone comes in and starts juggling sticks, I’m out of here. They let her sip if only to prove she could be blessed by holy water and it still isn’t going to improve her voice. Amy tanks again and still won’t take no for an answer. She launches into a third try amid cries of “tone deaf,” from Simon and Randy. After being shouted at to stop and a few more pleadings, Amy finally figures out she’s not going to Hollywood unless it’s as a prize pig in the L.A. County Fair. Of course, she starts crying to the camera and still maintaining that if it wasn’t for the fact that she was sick (of which she displays not one whit of symptoms), she would have made it. Sweetheart, your kind of sickness can’t be cured with NyQuill.

Perhaps Darwin Reedy is the panacea we’ve been looking for. Darwin, who claims people call her Mischa and looks like Janeane Garofalo if she had been born as a crack baby, is here with her mother. Both of them have enormously pendulous breasts and apparently only one brassiere between the two. Mischa’s mom must have called “heads” this morning, because she’s got the major support, while Mischa looks like she’s about to audition for the musical version of “Bend it Like Beckham.” Mischa claims she’s sexy and to illustrate this, does a little techno-shimmy while banking her breasts off her belly to score simultaneous goals for Brazil and Manchester United. Once inside, Simon’s eyes do a double take while following the bouncing balls. Randy peppers Mischa with all sorts of questions, trying to figure out if she’s from our planet. Mischa will be singing “Don’tcha,” by the Pussycat Dolls and the judges burst into laughter. Mischa giggles right along. Pumpkin, (and I mean that literally) they’re laughing at you, not with you. Randy is nursing an evil streak today as he invites Mischa to bring her mother in to witness the bloodbath. Mom is earnest and really believes in her daughter and I have to admit, once Darwin starts singing and sounding like a cow being milked (as you knew she would) this borders on cruel and embarrassing. No parent wants to have to witness their child be humiliated. It’s agonizing for both of them and really, it’s no fun to watch. Darwin offers to sing “Sweet Home Alabama,” and Simon, in order to prevent Bo Bice from getting yet another intestinal blockage, stops her before she can get very far. They invite mom to critique and it’s dueling Elsies front and center giving multiple excuses.

Back from the break with another huge montage of rejections before we reach Thomas Daniels. Tommy works as a gas attendant and has plenty of gas on his own as he discusses his master plan of hopping on the Idol elevator to success so he doesn’t have to bust his butt. Maybe he’s hiding his humility in that mid-sized sedan afro he’s sporting. Thomas actually has a really lovely voice and is put through to Hollywood. This is Thomas’ third time auditioning for Idol, and I’m guessing he’s never been put in front of the judges before, which tells you how screwed up the pre-audition selection process is if a person with this good a voice is passed up in favor of making the quota of freaks and trash talkers the producers think we’d rather see.

Melissa Carleen Stavros is next and she’s brought her rat dog Tika with her. She’s jammed her ample cankles and grandma flabby arms into pink fishnet tights that look like sausage casings. Melissa sings Xtina and actually starts out pretty well. I’m surprised she’s as good as she is. She hits a couple of off-notes and you can actually see relief spread across all three judges’ faces that they have a legitimate reason for not putting her through and not because she looks like she needs a couple more hours in the oven before the indicator pops. She takes it in stride and she’s got a decent voice so I hope it doesn’t discourage her.

Blake Lewis is a beatboxer and claims to be the best in the west, a claim Randy can’t help but want to stick a pin through. Blake acquits himself well, though Simon isn’t impressed and neither am I, but you can hear Blake has a good voice, so I hope it hasn’t unfairly swayed crabby Cowell. Blake sings Crazy by Seal and it’s an unfortunate choice, but he still makes some talent shine through. Simon gives him a reluctant yes, Paula and Randy more enthusiastic ones. I like him and concur.

If it’s possible, tonight is going even more slowly than last night. We’re only 47 minutes into another 2-hour episode. After yet another montage of bad singers (we get it, Seattle was a bust. Move on.), we’re introduced to Bangalor’s own Donny and Marie, sister and brother Shyamali & Sanjaya Malakar. Shyamali is adorable and so is her brother, but he’s very obviously gay so let’s hope proud papa hovering in the background is going to be able to face that fact should his son make it through. Shyamali has a pretty, if thin voice, but she knows her keys and her rendition of “Summertime,” is, as Paula says, nicely subtle. Randy likes her, as well, with Simon the only holdout. She’s through. Sanjaya is up next and we get our first Stevie Wonder song of the season. The judges think Sanjaya has a better voice than his sister, though I think they are comparably good. Donny & Marie 2.0 are going to Hollywood.

Rounding into the 2nd hour and we’re treated to another obvious plant. Nick Zitzmann is 27 and an uber-nerd looking for his 15 seconds in the spotlight. He sings “Unchained Melody,” (the entire fucking song) as though he’s in a trance. Waste of time, all around, though I don’t believe I have ever seen such lengthy bottom teeth in all my life. Rudy Cardenas is the last person on Day One. He’s handsome and humble and when he walks into the room, Paula eyes him like an endless bottle of Vicodin. Rudy sings “Open Arms,” by Journey and, with the exception of some inexcusable melismas, has a pretty voice. Simon is completely unimpressed, but Paula and Randy trump him and Rudy is on his way to Hollywood. Where he lives.

Day Two begins with the tired old standard of buddying up two hopelessly inept geeks. These guys probably scoped each other out on line, knew they had no chance but figured if they could get to be pals and flaunt it, they could possibly wrangle a free trip out for the finale. One of them looks like Steve Buscemi if he were a crack baby (hey, why shouldn’t I be as shameless in using the crack baby line as the chick who auditioned with it?) and the other kid has the appearance of a retarded heffalump, lisps and drools. First up is Buscemi, AKA Kenneth Briggs who compares himself to Justin Timberlake, Lance and all the other N’sync people; you know, Sneezy, Dopey, Doc… Kenneth is singing “Tearing Up My Heart,” replete with choreography that is so ludicrous, even Paula has to turn her chair around, laughing. As someone who has acted professionally for many years, I can tell you that if I ever went on an audition and the people I was reading for started laughing derisively during it, I would probably stop, if not at least be visibly thrown off. The fact that so many of these people blunder on without the least bit change in demeanor tells me they know they suck, they just want to make fools of themselves. They aren’t so much delusional as trying to create something in their sad lives they can consider a high point. I say let them go to a hooker and spare us the misery!

Kenneth’s new BFF, Fatty Arbuckle, I mean Jonathan Jayne, is up next. Simon manages to insult him and Randy at the same time with a trousers joke before Jonathan segues into “God Bless America.” He does remind me of Kate Smith, but only visually. He tanks, but they are kind to him. Simon tells him to hit the right door, though Jonathan could actually use both.

Half hour left, baby and Eric Chapman is here to tell us he’s Taylor Hicks’ long lost brother and they “gots to meet.” Eric is sporting a salt & pepper caesar/comb-over hair-do and that’s where the comparisons end. Eric is a hairdresser and clearly insane. After he bombs in his audition, he moves toward Simon with a jar of molding paste and the security team hustle him out of the room. 6’4” Amazon Anna Kearns was in the air force academy but was kicked out when it was found she had a weak heart. Despite that, she’s taking on Aretha’s “Respect,” for the judges. She’s got a middling voice. She could stay or leave and she’s going to Hollywood.

Jordin Sparks, a 16 year old America Ferrera look-alike sings a Celine Dion song pretty well. A bit vibrato-ish and medium on the melismas. She deserves to be put through and she is. We then find out that Jordin’s dad was a professional football player. Simon calls it when he tells Jordin she has a good voice, but is over the top sugary. Unfortunately, we’re treated to the now nauseating montage of the bad singers all performing the same song. Tonight’s unlucky selection is “Don’tcha.” Thanks guys, I don’t.

We finish up with Steven Thone. However, I don’t think anyone wishes they were a freak like him. He’s got red frizzy hair, a lisp and one snaggle tooth that is about as tall as Anna Kearns while its mouth mate seems to be missing or hiding or just plain embarrassed. Steven likes to do karaoke, or as he pronounces it, “kurokey.” Steven admits to not really watching the show or liking it, but the lure of infamy is too much for him to resist. Hey, guess what? I am gonna resist this douchebag. Idol, quit wasting our time. Seriously. Until next Tuesday, Seagulls out.