Minneapolis- Home to Prince. And Appollonia. And Vanity. AI Re-cap 1/16/07

Hello everyone. Welcome back to “Pray For the Soul of Kieran,” my weekly re-cap blog of yours and my favorite show, American Idol. First off, I want to thank everyone who e-mailed me over the past month to ask if I’d be returning to re-cap. I’m happy to say that, though this January finds me much busier than last year, I assure you, I’m in it for the long haul and we’re gonna deconstruct our little hearts out until May, just you and me. I got some snazzy new toys in the past year, including a widescreen large format HDTV and a new high speed laptop, so I will be able to count the rings under Paula’s eyes, smell the whiskey in her cup and bring it to you even faster. What say, shall we get started?

So last year, I didn’t begin re-capping until we hit Hollywood week. I’m someone who has little to no patience for the audition episodes. We Idolfans know the show doesn’t really get started until those Hollywood group numbers. The rest is all fodder for the hinterlands and someone’s bad idea of a sense of humor, showing obvious plants of people who can’t sing. And I see they’re starting it already! Oh, no, sorry, that’s just a replay of Taylor Hicks winning from last year. Taylor’s new CD recently debuted at #2 on the Billboard charts and has sunk like a stone. So has Kellie Pickler’s (didn’t need to know what calamari was to have figured that one out) as well as sophomore outings from Clay Aiken, Ruben Studdard and Fantasia Barrino. In fact, the only new Idol CD that seems to have any juice is Chris Daughtry’s which is currently #3 on the chart and has already gone platinum. It’s not much to listen to, but good for you, Chris. I certainly never thought you’d do as well as you have. But I sure did get the others’ failures right, so fuck yeah for me! Schadenfreude is lovely this time of the year.

After much self congratulation of the past Idol “successes,” many of which are out and out lies or wishful thinking, the show does a montage to “Teenage Wasteland.” Someone tell “Rock Star,” their song is being usurped. And of course, it wouldn’t be Idol if the numbers didn’t get bigger every year. Apparently more people came out to audition this year than ever. My question is- “Who the hell are these people?” Are we that starved for a tiny handful of reality television recognition that we’re willing to go make idiots out of ourselves on Natio- yeah, okay, I knew I couldn’t finish that one with a straight face. See, this I why I hate blogging this part; because it’s such obvious bullshit. These bad singers can’t possibly be this delusional. But then, Paula Abdul built an entire career on that delusion, so what do I know?

The show kicks off in Minneapolis this year. Home of Prince, but something tells me we’ll be seeing more Appollonias. Everyone in Minneapolis is really fat. If Rhoda Morgenstern still lived there, she’d be considered anorexic. An entire stadium of losers sings along to 1999, ¾ of them not even born when the song was released. God, that’s depressing. And to make things worse, Jewel is going to be a guest judge. First “Men in Trees,” and now this. Can “The Surreal Life,” be too far down the pike? Let me just say I can’t stand Jewel, never have, never will. Ever since the whole story about living in her car when she moved to LA. I didn’t buy it from Hilary Swank and I sure don’t buy it from Jewel. Anyone who wears halter tops knows how to charm some asshole into letting her stay rent free. Trust me, it doesn’t make the yodeling any more authentic.

Simon pretends not to be pissed that he has to share the stage with a special guest star, Randy is just biding his time til the first “dawg,” and Paula looks coherent, so you know this was taped months ago. The first contestant is Jewel’s biggest fan, Jessica Rhode. Jessica works at the Mall of America doing makeovers. Physician, heal thyself.

Jessica starts blubbering as soon as she is told (for the second time so the cameras can pick it up) that she will be singing for Jewel. I had vaguely the same reaction the last time I realized I was listening to Jewel, so I get it. Jessica has made the unfortunate choice to actually sing a Jewel song and from the looks of it, Miss Kilcher is NOT having it. Apparently at the Mall of America, you can get you a makeover, but there’s no one there to tell you to never audition for someone by singing one of their songs unless they request it. She’s pretty awful, though Jewel is diplomatic. Upon hearing her rejection in quadraphonic sound, Jessica squats to the ground in her American Eagle prairie skirt, starts crying again and begs for another chance, but like Elizabeth Taylor scrawled on the mirror in “Butterfield 8,” NO SALE! Out the door, Jessica’s mom embraces her and I’ll be willing to bet she could cheer her daughter up by letting Jessica do a makeover on her, because she needs it. Jessica is now bawling like someone shot Old Yeller and her brother or boyfriend rolls his eyes like, “Can we finally get the hell out of here before I turn gay!”

Back from the break and we’re only 16 minutes in. I’m sure Jessica is out there somewhere, still crying and I’m about to join her. Next we get some freak named Troy who claims to never have seen the show or know of any of the judges because he doesn’t have a “broadcast television” hooked up in his home (which begs the question of whether there is some closed circuit action going on there). I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of Troy’s lying little mouth, firstly because he’s dressed like an attention seeking fool and secondly because he has an irritating little smirk as he speaks that I want to wipe right off with a slap, but he looks hygienically challenged. Of course, he sucks and he’s singing what sounds like his own composition so now we know that motivation. Montage of bad singers and now we’re on to Jesse Holloway, who we know will suck because the ads told us so. I need a snack break, however, I have nothing in the cupboard but a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I think I’ll freshen up with some more whiskey. Jesse is barely articulate, a fact that Simon audibly backs up. Jesse claims to have a range akin to Mariah Carey. Perhaps he meant Mary Carey, the porn star Mariah is suing for having a sound alike name. However, in the middle of butchering “My Heart Will Go On,” Jesse stops, asks if he can get some water because he’s nervous, and walks out the door. You better believe Mary Carey never pulled that shit in the middle of getting tit-fucked. Jesse is back after imbibing, but apparently, someone fixed him a Pink Squirrel because he’s now an octave higher and doing little RuPaul head movements. Simon wants him to leave, but Jesse asks to sing another song and Paula and Jewel egg him on. Jewel’s been sort of evil and I love it. Jesse sucks hard and then tries to argue with Simon. 23 minutes in and we have our first “Dawg” from Randy.

Now we have some asshole named Monroe Moody who’s dressed as Apollo Creed, replete with boxing gloves and you know what? I’m not talking about his stupid ass. I think anyone who comes dressed like they expect to get a mini-snickers dropped in their candy sack ought to not even be seen by the judges. Okay, wait, I do have to comment because Monroe didn’t have a terrible voice. I’ve seen the judges put through worse. But they were never going to put anyone through who was dressed like such an asshole, which begs another why question- Why, when you’ve seen people with gimmicks fail season after season to get past round one, would you resort to something that all but guarantees failure when you have a passable voice?

A half hour in and we have our first sob story. Denise Jackson is a 16 year old student from Madison, WI. Denise was born a crack baby and her mother still struggles with drugs. Now unlike Jamie Foxx, who you know just from looking at that there’s a chromosome missing, Denise looks fairly healthy, so there was no immediate need to share her story. I mean, she doesn’t have water on the brain or a baby arm or anything. So that tells me she’s looking for sympathy, which means I hate her already. It’s the Kellie Pickler syndrome, which funny enough, is very much the same as being a crack baby. Denise says she is lucky that she has had no disabilities or defects from being a crack baby. Ryan asks why she is wearing sunglasses indoors and instead of something cool, like being one of those albino vampires from The Omega Man, Denise says she is presenting her “starism.” Apparently, being a crack baby has taken some sort of toll.

Denise enters the room all strutty and slutty so we can add “phony” to that list. She sings “And I am Telling You, I’m Not Going,” or as she calls it- You’re Gonna Love Me. Not so fast, honey. She actually manages to put the correct emotion and feeling into the song, unlike a certain recent Golden Globe Winner. She has a good voice, but she is going to have to do some serious penance for the sob story before I can forgive her. She’ll have plenty of more chances to do that or fail, cause Crack Baby is going to Hollywood.

The subpar Idol writers deliver an unfunny comedy bit about people forgetting their words. It’s about as big a yuk-fest as Brokenote Mountain was last year. Tashawn Moore is singing “Kiss” wearing a jaunty tie that she should have written crib notes on. She can’t remember more than two words without stopping. She keeps repeating the phrase “I want women, not no girls,” and I can’t tell if she’s singing or, along with the tie, trying to come out as a lesbian. She’s actually so bad and so determined that they allow her to go on far longer than even the Marquis De Sade would with her self torture.

Some clueless chick is flirting and asking Ryan if he has a girlfriend. Boy, is she barking up the wrong tree. Didn’t she see the Teri Hatcher photos? Ryan tells her he has a girlfriend but neglects to mention his name is Ace. The girl then calls Ryan short. She says her name with one of those exaggerated accents that makes it unintelligible for no reason other than to show off. She came to this country from Colombia with two backpacks and her guitar and found herself homeless, living out of her car. Liar. She says hers is not a sob story, it’s a survival story. She’s the American Dream. But whoops, she’s not American. At this point, I’m wondering if I’m even allowed to have an American Dream or have they all been taken by illegal aliens? Charo says that she knows Simon is going to love her, but just for safety’s sake, she makes sure to push out her tits before she walks into the room. You can practically see Simon’s eyes pop out of his head like he’s in a Looney Tunes cartoon. Okay, now I can see her name and it’s Perla Meneses. I’m already telling you that if she gets through, I can’t promise to refrain from making some cheap menstrual joke in the future. You have been warned. Perla calls Mr. Cowell “Simone” and then begins singing “Call Me,” by Blondie by way of a Cher impersonation. She’s underwhelmed Randy and he makes her sing some Shakira, which changes his mind. She’s put through. I guess it was her time of the month.

People, we’re not even an hour in yet. Lots of girls are getting through, but no men. Matt aims to change that. He’s wearing a ridiculous cowboy hat with a chin strap big enough to accommodate Mandisa. He’s a complete dork and way too cocky, so I’m gonna guess he sucks and they are setting him up for a fall. Yep, he sucks. Jewel actually asks him if he’s doing this as a joke.

Next up is a navy man, Jarrod, who is stationed on the S.S. Ronald Reagan, yet he’s been allowed to come audition for Idol. And the show has gone to the considerable time and expense of shooting him on the aircraft carrier, so you know he’s getting put through before he even sings a note. Who wants to wager that the USAF is doing this for a little positive publicity since Bush wants to increase the number of troops overseas? And now we hear that the aircraft carrier actually sponsored a competition to send someone from the troops stationed there to audition for the show. Jarrod says it brings a sense of pride knowing he can represent all of the fine people who are defending our freedom. This guy is already on my bad side, as are the producers for pulling this manipulative crap. I’ll vote for the crack baby before I support this jingoistic asshole. He’s got a barely passable voice, but they’ve already been told to put him through.

Hour two. A very hairy girl shakes her non-existent maracas during a dreadful version of “Fever,” and some poor, clueless girl named Trista who has a homemade sign and I think may actually think she’s going on The Price is Right, does impressions of the Cowardly Lion from “The Wizard of Oz,” before making a complete horses ass out of herself in front of the judges. They won’t even take her poster after she offers it to them. Stephen Horst is up next, a cute vocal teacher from NYC. He’s singing “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.” He starts out decently, but a few badly placed high notes blow his chances. Randy totally rips him a new asshole and Simon eggs him on. Too bad, he was kind of adorable.

Michelle Steingass is next and she’s singing a really bad song I’ve never heard before and because it’s so bad in a peppy kind of way, I’m assuming it’s a country song. She’s got a decent voice but she waaaay oversells the song. She’s cute, but the audition sucked. They’re putting her through. I would say she probably deserves a second chance, though they should have called her on her presentation. She’s going to quit her job. Bad move. Dayna Dooley auditioned in Pasadena and didn’t make the cut. She told her boss, who offered to fly her and her sister to Minnesota so Dayna could be rejected again. Dayna doesn’t get that her greaseball boss wants to lay some pipe, so it’s no wonder she’s delusional enough to think she can make the cut this time around. She does not. Simon feels like I do, so he wants to meet Dayna’s boss. Dayna very saucily sings “Fever,” to her boss, but it doesn’t sway the judges.

Sixteen year old Matt Sato, who suffers from overly plucked eyebrows and a zit the size of a small planet on his nose, is here by himself because his parents don’t support his dream of becoming a singer. My guess is they recently caught him in bed with his school choir boyfriend. Matt has a very interesting voice. There’s a cool rough quality to it, but he definitely lacks training. I see him going part-way, but I can’t see him making the Top 24 unless he takes some quick vocal training, stat. But I’m rooting for him. For now. He makes it through and calls his mom, who can’t quite believe the news, but is happy. Matt breaks down crying that his mom is proud of him. In my book, that beats a crack baby any day.

Back from the break and we have a half hour left. Rachel Jenkins is trying to work the military angle, as well, since her husband is in the Army. She’s even wearing his fatigues to garner sympathy. Rachel is an auto mechanic and the show wastes no opportunity filming her working on a Ford. I guess that’s truth in advertising, since Fords are such pieces of shit that they would be in the auto shop. Oh, I stand corrected; the uniform is Rachel’s. She joined the army reserves after 9/11. I’ll bet she’s kicking herself after tonight for not thinking to add “crack baby,” to her resume’. Rachel enters the audition room and milks the whole shebang. She finally gets down to singing and performs “His Eye is on the Spa-aa-aa-aa-row.” She’s going through. She’d actually be kind of funny if she wasn’t so transparent.

Sarah Krueger is up next and singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” She melismas the shit out of it. You can see the Wizard sending her to Hollywood just to shut her the hell up. Simon says the funniest line of the evening when he tells Sarah she has a lot of control over her voice. If she had control over it, she wouldn’t need to melisma. She’s through.

Next two people. The first is Jason Anderson, who juggles sticks while he sings, so you know he’s shit out of luck. Thankfully, he can’t sing, so they aren’t passing up someone good. Jason comes roaring out of the audition room and immediately makes his waiting mother proud by unleashing a string of curses to the camera. The camera pans to the next contestant, a heavily kohl eyed heifer named Brenna who considers herself the World’s Biggest Idol Fan. Widest, maybe. She’s clearly insane and Simon asks her if she actually thinks she can win. She’s singing “Under Pressure,” by Queen, or so she claims. Of course she sucks and of course, she’s only here to say she was on the show. Simon has told her no, but she’s trying to milk her time. Brenna claims she has a degree in vocal performance and I’m guessing it was obtained online.

We are in the home stretch. The show does the one thing I hate more than anything; a montage of bad singers doing one particular song, including people who have already been rejected. Jason the juggler just went out crying, but it didn’t stop the show from including him in this mess singing “Kiss,” by Prince.

Josh Flom is our final contestant of the night. His dad really would have preferred he become a goalie an sign an NHL contract, but since Josh wants to sing (translation- do something girlie) he’s still going to support him. Josh was inspired by Chris Daughtry last year and that motivated him to audition. So much so, that Josh is singing a song by Fuel. Josh is really really terrible. He’s doing a dreadful impersonation of what he thinks a rock singer should sound like. Simon challenges Josh to come back in 15 minutes with an Abba song and the poor, clueless kid actually accepts. Josh races around the halls searching for the lyrics to an Abba song. He’s singing “Dancing Queen,” in the same style he did the Fuel song. And a Barry Manilow song. Josh begs and begs, but it falls on deaf ears. Josh cries and that ends our first episode. Seventeen people made it through to Hollywood.

Okay, that wasn’t as painful as I expected it to be. However, that could be due to the fact that I have had two Bailey's with extra whiskey over ice and I'm a little tipsy. Who knew an Archie & Jughead jelly jar glass full of liquor could pack such a punch? Maybe I actually can get through this. Join me tomorrow night as American Idol travels to Seattle. It’s good to be back. Seagulls out.