American Idol: Wednesday Recap (5/24)
And the winner is...
by Frank PittareseThis is the big Results Show. Lots of hoopla and ballyhoo, so no time is wasted. Right off the bat, the big screen splits open, and Seacrest comes strolling out. He’s had some hair extensions put in and is wearing a sexy white dress. Hold on, that’s not Seacrest—he’d never wear white before Memorial Day—it’s last year’s winner, Carrie Underwood! If she killed Ryan and tried to replace him like a Fembot, it’s not working.
The opening notes of Barry Manilow’s ‘I Made It Through the Rain’ begin playing, and as Carrie sings, she’s joined by Taylor “Of Course I’m Winning” Hicks. He’s also dressed in white, and is doing his best Michael McDonald. Along comes Katharine, clad in white as well. Hmm…this is suspiciously starting to look like a Backstreet Boys video. Where’s Howie D. when you need him? All the booted contestants—well, the Final 12, since little Will Makar and hottie David Radford got cut out of the Tour—take the stage. All this white. Are they dead or just lining up for First Holy Communion? They sound great until they all start singing at once. Then it’s a cacophony of everybody doing their own thing. It’s not painful, but not anything I’d call harmony. They all make it through the rain and the first Group Sing. This is American Idol, munchkins.
Seacrest finally appears, to the delight of the audience, Ben Stiller (for the second night in a row) and Heather Locklear (who apparently doesn't own a mirror or a hairbrush) are sitting side by side, and I don’t know what to make of it, but he’s a better catch than Richie Sambora, so I approve. “Tonight we name your American Idol,” announces Seacrest. We’re broadcasting to an estimated audience of 200 million people all over the world, he tells us. Do people in France really care about this show? Don’t they have French Idol or whatever? Please, Seacrest.
He asks who the winner will be and the audience screams incoherently. If I were there, I’d shout obscenities in hope of a random mic picking up my voice. That’s how I roll, bitches. Rather than introduce the judges as usual, Seacrest introduces a series of clips for each of them.
Randy Clip: Bring the heat, baby. Dudes. Dudes. Whatever, dude. Dog pound, we got a hot one tonight. Dude, shake it out. Dude. Dude. You’re the bomb. We got a hot one America! Wow. Wow. America, we got a hot one right there! Aside from a random “That was a little pitchy for me,” they managed to cover every word Randy spoke this or any other season.
Paula Clip: Elliott moves her. She bounces in her chair like a five-year-old. She cries. She weeps. She hits Simon. She stands up in her chair during judging. She sits on Simon’s lap. She yells at him. She loves Taylor, like a thousand times. She's a living Saturday Night Live sketch.
Simon Clip: ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’ plays throughout. He’s give himself a 10 out of 10. He touches his face. He plays with his man boobs. He plays with his lips. Face. Fingers. Lips. Lips. Face. Man boobs. Man boobs.
“That was definitely more than a handful,” Seacrest says, touching his boy boobs. Then we cut to the Final Two’s home towns. The O’Donahue Twins, Becky and Jessie (one of whom was a pre-Final 12 contestant), are covering Taylor’s party in Birmingham, Alabama. Massive hordes of screaming idiots. Kids with gray hair. Soul Patrol. Die. At the Universal Studios theme park in CA, Season One’s Tamyra Gray stands amidst the McPheever people. There seem to be less of them, but in fairness, the camera never really pulls back.
By the way, Seacrest is hosting the evening from behind a podium. He’s the Littlest Candidate, and if he gets elected, he promises every citizen 40 acres and a lifetime supply of sculpting gel.
Paris Bennett takes the stage. They don’t actually say this, but each of the Final Five (Paris, Chris, Elliott, Kat and Taylor) will get to sing a duet with a legitimate performer. Anyway, Paris is singing ‘We’re in This Love Together,’ by Al Jarreau. He’s the guy who sang the Moonlighting theme tune. Paris sings, spunky and confidant, with a bejeweled Hello, Kitty ornament around her neck. Al Jarreau himself joins her. He looks about a hundred, but sounds pretty good. They have a fun time, singing and scatting (no, not that). Paula stands throughout the performance. I’d fuckin’ hate to be sitting behind her.
Chris Daughtry is next. He’s singing ‘Mystery’ with “his favorite band,” Live. Okay, honesty time. Before this show, I had no idea who Live was or is. I’d never heard ’em, never seen ’em. So imagine my surprise when I get my first look at the lead singer and find that he’s a taller, leaner version of Chris. Bald as can be. Kinda hot. Nice. They sing side by side, like clones. Where one stops, the other starts. Live Guy dances a little bit. It’s a little gay, but sexy. I’d like to see them make out. Oh, vocally, this sounds like everything else Chris has sung: gruff and tough, manly and powerful. Very well-harmonized. I’d totally sing along to this while in the shower, which is where I do most of my listening and singing, if you must know.
The audience applaudes dutifully. I suspect the room is full of Soul Patrollers, so the fan appreciation isn’t as out-of-pocket as you’d get during a competition night. Emily Deschanel enjoyed it. She co-stars on Fox’s Bones, a show I’ll probably never watch.
In addition to duets, another of tonight’s features are little…we’ll call them skits. The first is a series of two, starring Kellie Pickler and famous chef Wolfgang Puck, as Kellie learns about fine dining. I’d rather see her dodging snot bullets from The Real World’s Puck, but you can’t have everything.
Puck ‘N’ Pickler 1. They’re seated in a nice restaurant. She’s embarrassed because she didn’t know what calamari was and people mocked her, so she’s here to be educated. Spontaneously. The cameras just followed her here. She puts on Puck’s glasses and reads from the menu, settling on escargot. When she finds out they’re snails, she doesn’t believe it. Then she’s presented with them and fakes eating them, but Puck practically forces the juicy, drippy slimeballs into her mouth. She spits the goop into her napkin and puts the napkin under her chair. That girl gots class.
Katharine McPhee gets the next duet. She’s paired with Meatloaf for ‘It’s All Coming Back to Me Now.’ We start with just the Loaf, singing about how “the night was so cold” and shaking like he has ice cubes up his anus. Kat strolls out and this…this, people…is Theatre! They sing the song and act it out like they’re on Broadway. Kat walks around angst-ridden and holding her head as it “all comes back” to her. Meatloaf stalks her across the stage like the 250-pound bad memory she’s trying forget, waving a red hanky in her general direction. It’s ten kinds of cheesy, fifty kinds of ridiculous, and one hundred kinds of awesome! David Boreanez, also co-starring on Bones, and his kid, seem to agree.
Another batch of skits involve something they’re calling ‘The First Annual Golden Idols.’ It’s really just an excuse to show some old audition clips, but we’ve got two hours to fill, so okay.
Golden Idols: Outstanding Female Vocal. The nominees are Cierra Johnson, a cute little girl who had “a new, jazzy, powerful voice” except that she sang like a police siren, Crystal Parizansky, a dumb-as-a-post Christina Aguilera wannabe, who couldn’t manage to answer a direct question about her tan and screamed ‘Lady Marmalade’ while holding her ear, and Princess Brewer, who compared her voice to Aretha Franklin. Princess sang like a bunch of cats thrown into a bag of razor blades—but less melodic. Princess wins. She couldn’t be there to accept her award because “she wasn’t crazy enough to take more abuse.” But make no mistake—the award exists. It is a real, physical object, as we’ll soon see.
Golden Idols: Outstanding Male Vocal. The nominees are Marlowes Davis, a neatly-attired young man who compared himself to Usher and Michael Jackson, but who turned one note in ‘Falling’ into a thirty-note, tone-deaf run, with a finger stuck in his ear the whole time, Derek Dupree, with his massive pit stains, who sang most of ‘Shout’ in a high falsetto, then angrily screamed “It’s Nigel! It’s Nigel! It’s Nigel! It’s Nigel!” leaving the judges more befuddled than usual, and “Crazy” Dave Hoover, the skinny, barefoot maniac who somehow made it to Hollywood. He scared the pants off Seacrest after getting his ticket, and then scared the skirt off Paula when he stormed the judges table in Hollywood to the tune of ‘Bat Out of Hell.’ Hoover wins, and he’s there to accept. He rushes out on stage, barefoot, and immediately falls into the mosh pit. When he gets back up, he howls like the Wolf Man, and the award-presenter chick carefully sets his trophy on the ground, then runs away.
Puck ‘N’ Pickler 2. Kellie is presented with lobster this time. They’re live. She screams and runs from the table. I feel that, sister. Those things are like nasty, giant bugs. So gross, with their feelers and claws and oogie undersides. She’s not eatin’ that!
Group Sing: The Guys. Kevin Covais, Chris, Ace Young, Bucky Covington and Elliott Yamin stride onto the stage all dressed in black and looking fierce. They’re singing ‘Taking Care of Business.’ Ace actually doesn’t suck here. Nor does little Kevin. This song was made for Bucky, who I love for God knows what reason. And Chris, as always, sounds like Chris does. They should take this act on the road, except…you know…they are. Taylor comes out and almost spoils the fun with his stupid harmonica and his retarded squatting. They segue into ‘Tobacco Road,’ and a great time is had by all, then that shifts into ‘Don’t Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)’ and the boys work the audience. They wanna be careful about that, because from there, they won’t be able to see, as we can in the wide shot, the teleprompter with the lyrics scrolling by. Ace sweetly hugs his dad. This was great. If the Idols on Tour tour is anything like this, it won’t disappoint.
Ford Ad. Kat and Taylor go to a drive-in movie, and it’s a clipfest of all the old Ford Ads, to the tune of ‘Don’t Stop’, along with some outtakes of the ex-Idolers giggling. Kat and Taylor laugh and laugh. Then there’s a shot of him all serious, with fake tears running down his cheeks as he “cries.” Huh? It follows a shot of Kat and Kermit the Frog. Maybe Jim Henson was a personal friend of his. Anyway, they do not sound good together at all.
Back live. Seacrest, Kat and Taylor stand on stage, all in a row. Seacrest asks if it was fun, driving that Ford. Katharine agrees. “You should probably have one, Kat,” Seacrest says, and hands her some keys. At first I was like, are you shitting me? I mean, we all know the girl is losing, but to give her the pity prize mid-show is just tacky. But then Taylor gets keys, too, so it’s even-steven. He woos, then mimes turning the ignition. I mime stabbing him with a pitchfork.
Golden Idols: Proudest Family Moment. The nominees are Elliott’s mother on his return trip to Richmond, which damn near made me cry then and now, Katharine’s father, who cries all the time, but it’s become sort of a joke, so nah, and Chris’s wife Deanna, during his first audition. She was all moved because he married her and took in her kids and this is his dream and wouldn’t it be great if he got on the show and oh, he did, so tears and hugs and joy. Mrs. Yamin wins, of course, because how can you not love her? Seacrest hands her the award. She asks if she can keep it. Adorable! Then she says she’ll keep it beside her in bed. Seacrest asks her to introduce her boy, and she does so, sweetly.
Elliott Yamin is singing U2’s ‘One.’ If Bono walks out here, I’ll fall off the couch. I hate Bono, mind you, but it would be amazing to see him on the show. Instead, Elliott, after singing the first verse, introduces Mary J. Blige. Miss Blige, wearing huge sunglasses that make her look like The Fly, practically pushes Elliott off the stage and hogs the mic for about twenty minutes. It’s not a duet, it's a heist. Ell dances, waaay off to the side, then comes back for the final chorus, where Mary J. proceeds to drown him out almost completely. He’s overjoyed, though, so bless.
Carrie Underwood, our “current American Idol” sings a song we’re not told the name of. It’s her latest single, and it’s country, and I don’t really care. Go Google it, if you must. This is the only part of the show I fast-forwarded through. She looks quite lovely, though, I’ll give her that.
Golden Idols: The Randy Jackson Special Award for Public Speaking. It goes to the contestant “whose eloquence is unprecedented.” He speaks, of course, of Rhonetta Johnson. She was the stocky African-American woman in the long blonde wig, glittery silver tube-top, mini-skirt, and Nancy Sinatra boots. If ever a little girl dreamed of being on Hookers at the Point, it’d be Rhonetta. After getting cut from auditions, she let loose with an obscene critique of the judges, all of which is bleeped out here. A fouler individual you’d never meet. Rhonetta is “working tonight,” Seacrest says. Heh. But we cut to her live, via satellite, accepting the award. This is actually an actress in Rhonetta garb…or perhaps it’s Brandy after a binge. She suggests where to shove the award, but then likes it because she can sell it. Then she physically attacks a “production assistant.” Ugh.
Taylor Hicks gets his turn at a duet. He’s singing ‘In the Ghetto’ with Toni Braxton. She’s wearing her best nightie and sings the following words: “Ubble, bleh, booshie, mm-hmm, shaboo, wugga, woo!” Seriously, I don’t even know. Does she think her mic is off? Is she a Sim? Because this, it ain’t English. I feel for Taylor, because he has to balance these scales, and feeling for him pisses me off. Toni tries to give him a lap dance, and honestly, I think Taylor is dying inside. But then they "woo" together, so eff them both. This is a song about poverty, you douchbags.
Group Sing: The Girls. They’re all dressed in black and look kick-ass. Everyone is in attendance: Lisa Tucker, Mandisa, Kat, Kellie, Melissa McGhee (who I always have to look up and is completely invisible to me), and Paris. They start their medley with Shania Twain’s ‘I Feel Like a Woman,’ vamping it up, all over the stage. That morphs into Elvis’s ‘Evil’ which then becomes ‘I’m a Woman’ (“W.O.M.A.N.”), which is basically the same song as ‘Evil,’ but with different lyrics. The crowd responds well to Mandisa. They shift to ‘Natural Woman,’ then ‘I’m Every Woman.’ Overall, the girls sound good together, as did the boys. It’s when you get ‘em all together that things go flooey. Regardless, Mandisa is The Voice here, and definitely stands out from the crowd. Too bad she’s a big fat homophobe.
Golden Idols: Best Impersonation. The nominees are Kenneth Maccarone, the boy who sang like Cher, but didn’t seem to think that he was mimicking her, Seth Strickland, the sad geek who tried to sing and dance like Michael Jackson, then forget the lyrics and dance steps to ‘Thriller,’ and Michael Sandecki, the frightening Bizarro-Clay Aiken. We get a recap of Michael’s audition. His ‘In the Still of the Night’ sounded like a foghorn, but he claimed to be nervous because he had to pee. The judges let him go tinkle, then he came back and continued to suck. He got booted. Michael wins the award.
Michael Sandecki is there to accept, and gayly strolls out, still looking like Clay Aiken circa 2002. Seacrest asks him to sing live, and I suspect shenanigans are afoot. So the boy begins caterwauling his rendition of ‘Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me.’ It’s as bad as can be. Then the big screen opens up behind him, and Miss Clay Aiken herself comes striding out. Clay’s trying to rock the ‘Jared Padelecki’ shaggy haircut and is failing miserably. Michael has no idea Clay is behind him, till he turns his head and spots his idol, at which point he goes plum loco. He shakes and quakes, and backs away from Clay. Seacrest is literally holding him up and in place at one point. Clay takes over the song and shakes Michael’s hand. Michael is agog, and starts singing along with Clay. They lower his mic for a few minutes, then let him join in for the chorus. He’s so giddy that it’s infectious. Seacrest gives the kid a stool to sit on, and you can see him ask “Are you okay?” to which Micheal shrieks, “Oh my God!!” This is great TV, right here, and it’s fantastic because it’s completely honest and unrehearsed. (I'm not being sarcastic.) The kid shakes the whole time! Beautiful! And a gayer moment has never been seen on this show. But stick around.
Group Sing: Burt Bacharach Medley. The man himself walks out and sits at the piano. This oughta be good. Taylor starts off with ‘What the World Need Now is Love’ and is joined by Kat. Ace gets ‘The Look of Love.’ He sounds like a girl and needs a haircut. Melissa (who?) joins him. Kellie sings ‘I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” a little nasally, but she works it out. ‘Raindrops Keep Fallin’’ on Bucky’s head. Did I mention that I love Bucky? I love Bucky. He sounds great, annunciating all his words and singing the song softly, without the country twang. Good for him! Mandisa sings ‘I Say a Little Prayer,’ except that she never utters the word “prayer,” letting the other girls cover that part. Is this some kind of religious thing? Would singing the lyric be blasphemy? Whatever, I’m over Miss Amazing Grace of 2006. Lisa Tucker wants to know ‘What’s It All About, Alfie?” It’s all about that Lisa is still boring. It’s worth mentioning here that all the girls are dressed in slinky red dresses, and all the guys are in tuxes, sans ties, looking like Tom Jones. The stage is full of the sexy. Elliott sings ‘A House is Not a Home’ beautifully. Why didn’t you sing this song when you had the chance, you silly boy? This is terrific. I’d buy this. Kevin Covais sings a cute cover of ‘What’s New Pussycat?’ as the girls sing back-up, bopping up and down behind the piano. It’s silly, and Kellie can’t keep a straight face. Kevin, Chris, and Ace team-up for ‘Arthur’s Theme’ (Ace with the belly-rubbing, still). Paris, unfortunately, deep throats her way through ‘Close to You,’ then introduces Miss Dionne Warwick.
Everybody stands, as well they should, except Simon (at first). Then he gets up, probably from the pressure. I know being a prick is part of his character, but this is Dionne fucking Warwick. Respect, Cowell. She sings ‘Walk on By’ as wonderfully as she did in 1964. Then everything wraps up with ‘That’s What Friends Are For.’ Burt Bacharach is a genius, and this was the best medley ever, in the history of this often asstarded show.
Golden Idols: Male Bonding. Awesome! The nominees are Chris Daughtry and Ace Young, with a montage of them hugging and hanging on each other to the tune of ‘Love to Love You, Baby.’ Brilliant. Also? Hot! Ryan Seacrest and Taylor Hicks get nominated, on account of that time they laid on the floor with their legs in the air, waiting to be topped. And last up, we have the Brokenote Cowboys, who we last saw at auditions. There’s the tall one, the black one, and the wee one. The wee one had a problem with the choreography. And the singing. And the height. They all got booted and cried and bonded. Of course they win, and appear on stage to sing ‘Mama, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.’ Very entertaining. But…um…I’d like my results now.
“That does it for all our guest stars this evening,” Seacrest says. “No more surprises.” Except…here’s Prince! It takes a few seconds for the audience to register what’s going on, because he’s not introduced, he just comes out singing. Then they start screaming and don’t really stop. He does ‘Lolita’ from his new album. It’s no ‘Raspberry Beret,’ but it’s really catchy. Then he sings ‘Satisfied,’ also from the new album. And because it’s Prince, this is a high-energy performance, with two sexy back-up singers/dancers, and a good build to the climax of the show. It’s been rumored that Prince didn’t want to be on this show and have to interact with the kids. Or anyone, for that matter. The rumor is apparently true, because no sooner does he finish his set, then he walks back through the big screen from whence he came. He doesn’t touch, let alone acknowledge, Seacrest.
And we’re finally here. Almost. Taylor and Katharine sing a live duet of their own, ‘(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life,’ from Dirty Dancing. Taylor is wearing a black suit and Kat is wearing curtains. This is better than their Ford Ad duet, although Taylor sounds exactly like the guy in the original song.
After the song, Seacrest tells us that more than 63 million votes came in, more than any President in the history of our country has ever received. Yeah, Ryan, the multiple voting this show allows might have something to do with that.
“Who has won?” There’s no time to go to commericial, what with two minutes left to the show. Some suit comes out with the results, and confirms that the votes were counted and validated. He hands Seacrest the results.
The winner of American Idol: Season Five is, no surprise, Taylor Hicks.
Woo. Woo. Birmingham, Alabama goes crazy. David Hasselhoff appears to be moved to tears. David Foster, sitting behind him, seems mildly amused, and some dude behind him has fingers in both of his ears. Sissy. Taylor takes Kat’s hand in his and raises them together, which is sort of a sweet gesture. I know he’s fake, but I’d like to think that he’s managed to achieve some level of genuine friendship with her and some of the others. Whatever, it’ll help me sleep at night.
Taylor scream “Soooullll Patrollll” and it’s as annoying and ridiculous as Darth Vader’s “Noooo!” at the end of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith. Kat is thrilled to be there. “It’s a dream come true,” she says. Seacrest thanks the judges, and then Taylor is made to sing that awful, yet catchy, debut single of his, ‘Do I Make You Proud?’ What do you want from me? I’ve heard it four times in the last 24 hours. He tells America to “come on,” because he’s “livin’ the American dream!” Is this the American dream? Winning a dumb reality show? Actually, he might be right. The song continues. Key change. Pyrotechnics and confetti. Taylor “Soul Patrols” some more, and then is ambushed by the other Idolers. Roll credits and we’re out!
And that’s the end of this season of American Idol and this series of recaps. Big thanks to Dave McAwesome, for giving me this soapbox upon which to stand, and to all the folks who read these things each week (especially Bill W. and Wootini). It’s been a blast.
See you next January at auditions!
