Randy Go Home!

Simon told Jason he should pack his suitcase, but Jason wouldn't be the first person I'd send home from American Idol this week. Nope, I'd tell Randy to pack his tacky rhinestoned bags. What an a-hole!

Syesha blew the roof off the place with "A Change Is Gonna Come" but for Randy it fell "flat." What?! Last week there was all the brouhaha about Paula critiquing a song that had yet to be sung (you better believe they didn't try that format again this week), but this week it seemed like Randy was reading from his own dyspeptic script, one that aims to get rid of Syesha. There was something ugly and vengeful, not to mention off-base, in his criticisms. That's when Paula stood up and started clapping for Syesha and the girlie waterworks began. I loved Paula in that moment, I truly did. Meanwhile, Randy awkwardly sipped from his big red cup (what's in there anyway, Diet Mean Cola?) and put on his practiced defensive look. Simon agreed with Paula, so I didn't have to yell, "Misogynist Pigs!" at the screen. Syesha continued crying. Actually, though I liked her performances this week (the put-it-all-on-the-line Syesha was back in the house!), she annoyed me a bit in the pre-song interview when she talked about how "A Change is Gonna Come" was a crucial civil rights anthem, then said how it also applied to her (the next most important cause after civil rights) right now cause she's like changed so much, too. Yuck. She also talked about having "fun" with "Proud Mary." (David A. also had "fun" with "Love Me Tender," a song that just has fun written all over it, doesn't it? NO, IT DOESN'T!) The word "fun" should hereby be banned from the lips of all American Idol performers. But I digress. Syesha redeemed herself in my eyes when, after the Niagara tears did a number on her mascara and Ryan (who said chivalry is dead?) called for a tissue, Syesha said, in a voice about three octaves lower than usual, "I probably look like crap right now." That's my girl. You've come a long way, baby. (Just keep a check on the me me me chit-chat.)

Leave Jason alone! In his room. Where he wants to be right now. Or probably anywhere that isn't the American Idol stage. (Does anyone sport dreads in Siberia?) I advised viewers to vote him off last week, for his own sake, but did they listen? No! And now his soul is ruined. It's done. "Yet another `American Idol' hopeful flubs lyrics to a song" goes the Yahoo! headline today. Nothing the entertainment media loves better than flubbed lyrics. Something trivial to focus on, like Howard Dean's scream. So, he forgot a few Dylan lyrics, big deal. Dylan himself has probably flubbed a few lyrics in his time and incomprehensibly mumbled the rest, and it's not like everyone's on his case. Personally, I think it was a deliberate move on Jason's part, in case massacring Bob Marley (I didn't think it was as "utterly atrocious" as Simon said, but anyway . . . ) wasn't enough to finally get himself released from the prison the show has clearly become for him. Please, viewers, I beg of you, show mercy and send Jason to a better place!

Which leaves us with the two Davids. Cook and Archuleta. Which David reins supreme? Last week I declared Cook the season's winner, and I stand by my David (because I'm the loyal sort), even if David A's "Stand By Me" was inevitably better than David C's "Hungry Like the Wolf." Cook, dude, what were you thinking? You had the entire Rock & Roll Hall of Fame catalog to chose from (or at least the corner AI had access to), and you chose Duran Duran? They weren't even a good band in the 80s, never mind in 2008. It was all hairdo and accessories, and we know that you're on shaky ground in the hairdo department, Mr. Cook. You may have left Paula with a big appetite but you left me with a big WTF? David C., humble David C. (if his arrogance doesn't do him in in this competition, his humility will), realized his mistake and came back with The Who's "Baba O'Riley," aka "Teenage Wasteland." There's something deliciously eccentric about singing "Teenage Wasteland" to a TV wasteland full of teenagers. Paula loved it. I loved it. (Now that Michael Johns is gone, we gotta have the hots for someone over 18.) But will the teens, wasted and un-, love it? Maybe not so much.

Especially since David A., bless his crafty little heart (oops, I'd vowed not to use the word "little" in relation to the smaller David), is getting better and better with his song choices. (Has Daddy stepped aside? Is Kristy Lee Cook phoning in suggestions from her horse stable in Oregon?) He began with the aforementioned "Stand By Me," which he'd only performed a few thousand times in his bedroom before, never publicly. The almost subliminal cleverness came towards the end when he asked all the "beautiful girls" to Stand By Him. (I'm not sure how David A. actually feels about girls, but he sure knows where his white bread is buttered!) As if that weren't enough, he followed it up with that "fun" chestnut, "Love Me Tender." Like those beautiful girls aren't going to love him tender all through the designated window of voting opportunity. (If only Hillary could seduce the voters like our little, oops again, David! I half expect her to pop up in an Archuleta mask to face the next round of primaries.)

Unlike David C., whatever eccentricities David A. has inside of him, he's keeping hidden away in his Al-Gore-approved lock-box till after the competition. He wants to win this baby, and the odds are certainly back in his favor. He picked right, sang really well (I personally adored the little, oops again, broken note at the end of "Love Me Tender"), and didn't pass out, as poor Papa Ryan feared. (Would it be inappropriate to suggest that they would make the cutest little--sorry!--Daddy/Boy couple ever? Matching leather pants, OMG!) My favorite David A. moment of the night was when he euphorically protested, in response to a redundant bit of Jason flogging, "I liked Jason's song!" I believed him. David C. is in trouble.

My Favorite Idol Performance #21, just to spite that big blob of evilness that is Randy Jackson:

American Idol's on Acid!

The night started out normally enough, then just got wackier and wackier until I literally slapped myself to make sure I wasn't tripping. Craziest AI ever.

The show started with relative normality: Ramiele had been encouraged to kick it up a notch and show off that "big old voice" coming from that wee little package. So she did, taking on one of the biggest, Ann Wilson. And she did ok (even if the voice went "bye bye" during rehearsals), certainly better than other weeks. But cranky Randy was all over the pitchiness; he was the pitch-bitch the whole night. (My pitch-queen boyfriend had more problems with Syesha's pitch, but Randy let her off the hook, hmmm. Maybe he doesn't like tiny girls?) Then came Jason, who brought his usual laid-back stoner touch to Sting's "Fragile." (The stoner charm is wearing thin on everyone despite those special frosty eyes.) Even relatively tone-deaf me recognized some pitchiness with Syesha, but, like Mary J. Blige, who's not immune to the dreaded pitchiness problem, what she lacks in precision she can--when she's on--make up for in passion. Syesha was semi-on last night. Chikezie went old-school, skipping any hoedown and harmonica eccentricities after getting nailed for them last week. Then he got criticized for playing it safe and cheesy (according to Simon). Cheesy Chikezie; alas, he may be in trouble tonight. Brooke, thank god, ditched the sunshine outfit and dressed like she was going to a funeral. Funereal becomes her; somehow she still looks sunny even all in black and with flattened hair. Her beginning blunder was charming, and she held her own with "Every Breath You Take," though she didn't quite pull off the magic she's capable of.

Then the evening started to get good and weird. Michael amped up the energy and sex appeal (see below), and Carly took on Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart." I have always adored this song beyond all reason and am convinced that anyone who says they don't like it is lying. One lonely 80s evening, I remember smoking a little something and watching the original door-bursting, wind-blowing, gown-flowing awesomely over-the-top video and being certain it was the best thing I'd ever witnessed in my whole life. (And when the smoke cleared, it still seemed pretty fabulous. You don't need to be high to appreciate spooky bright-eyed flying children.) But I digress: Carly. She tried, really hard, and she looked terrified. (What I would have given to hear Amanda do Bonnie Tyler!) Then pitch-bitch Randy rags on her and Simon rags on her and tells her to lighten up, and you can see the color draining from Carly's face. (Inside she's probably screaming: I was in the Bottom 3 last week, you arse! I am not going to lighten up! I want this more than life itself, and you're ruining it.) I honestly feared she might vomit on stage, and if she's in the Bottom 3 tonight (which she may well be), I think I'll have to cover my eyes.

Carly set the stage for the true weirdness ahead: David A. and Kristy Lee. David picked perhaps the worst song EVER in the history of the show. Watching him perform was one big WTF???? And somehow he looked even younger than ever, about 6. Truly excruciating. Then came the judging. "Strange song choice," said Randy, before adding that David could sing "whatever" and it would be fine. Ahhh, so with precious David, song choice is irrelevant. WTF???? Paula was equally mystified but said David could sing the phone book. You're judges, not babysitters; what's with the kid gloves? Only Simon hit the nail on the head: theme park, ghastly, etc. Then he made the most interesting comment of the night: "I don't think that is you at all, and I'd be amazed if you chose the song yourself." Ouch! David's Daddy must have felt that stab wound. Of course with the rumors of David's Dad being the stage-parent from hell flowing, Simon's dig was less than subtle. Watching the John Farnham original, it's hard to imagine a 17 year-old in his right mind picking this song. And seeing David performing it was like watching a cult member perform for his brainwasher. He looked like a scared puppy having an out-of-body experience. Simon's remark makes me wonder what's going down off-stage re: David and Daddy, but, unless David is a lot crazier (re: song choice) than he looks, Daddy needs to be booted asap or David will be. Intervention anyone?

Finally, the icing on the weirdness cake: Kristy Lee. After we got distracted by hunky, shirtless Daddy holding a baby Kristy Lee, the performance got underway. "God Bless the USA." No, no, no, she's not really going to sing this, is she? Yes, she is. Demented, and completely brilliant. After suffering week after week in the Bottom 3, Kristy took matters into her own hands and played the patriotism card! She gave it her pitchy, twangy all, and it was as cringingly horrible as one might expect. And--clever, clever Kristy Lee--the judges couldn't touch it: Great song choice, very nice. Very poignant and respectful song. Your best performance by a mile. (A little pitchy, but patriotism trumps pitch every time.) "The most clever song choice I have heard in years," Simon said, and on that score he was right. But instead of stopping there, Simon went on to say that Lee Greenwood was brilliant, the song was brilliant. That's when I was sure either they were on acid or I was. Simon, who called Chikezie cheesy earlier, finds a song that oozes cheesiness brilliant? (And he's not even American, for chrissake!) So, vote for Kristy Lee and love that song, because if you don't, you are not patriotic and the terrorists will win!

Because I can't resist, some of the original inspirations behind the acid-edition of AI (as if the Beatles could begin to compare):