American Idol: The Top Ten, or You’re the Voice (Of Theme Park Psychobabble Hell)

Stephen Thomas Erlewine
Ramiele: Ramiele looked hella cute and sang just fine in a song that fit her better than “I Should Have Known Better,” or maybe any other tune she’s sung since that first week. Too bad that it was Heart’s “Alone,” which will always be compared to Carrie’s showcase and maybe even Carly’s audition this year. It’s an overplayed song often destined to be oversung, something Ramiele managed to avoid, but she didn’t surprise, which meant that her familiar song choice turns her forgettable. If only this girl knew music outside of American Idol, she could be a force.

Jason: That freshman year of college, it was hard not to be charmed by the crunchy hippie that sits around in the dorm lounge strumming his acoustic, alternating “Redemption Song” with “Driver 8”… or at least for that first week when everything related to college seemed exciting and new. Once midterms roll around, that shtick isn’t as endearing, especially as that hippie does the same thing on every song, strumming madly while singing sweetly and bugging his eyes out. You hear it in passing once again then have an urge to retire to your dorm room to play something, anything that isn’t quite so drippy… possibly Sonic Youth, but maybe even Something/Anything, as Todd singing “This is for the girls that just couldn’t see/That my only sin was being me” is far more macho than anything Jason Castro does.

Syesha: What a disappointment to realize that all Syesha wants to do is belt out drama like Whitney. Randy, that connoisseur of all things big, falls for it, but even though Syesha was perfectly good singing it out, she follows the blueprint so closely she’s perfectly forgettable.

Chikezie: After a couple of weeks of being surprisingly nutzo, Chikeze slips into his Luther comfort zone and immediately becomes a little bit dull all over again. Knowing that he is genuinely an inventive musician and a good singer (and if the packages count for anything, a sweet guy), it’s easier to take this untimely regression but it’s hard not to wish he worked his weird alchemy on some other ‘85 hit.

Brooke: A very nice, perhaps a shade too Tori, arrangement of “Every Breath You Take” gets needlessly puffed up by a passable but too Vegasy band arrangement at the bridge. Brooke sounds great through it all — and she still sounds like one of only three contestants that knows what she’s about while also sounding reasonably modern (the others being Jason Castro and, sadly, David Cook) — but she’s unfortunately not quite in control of her gifts as she should be, sometimes picking the wrong songs or doing the right songs not quite as well as she could. All the same, she shines brighter than most on this big stage.

Michael Johns: As the only contestant born in the ‘70s (he’s 11 years older than baby David!), Michael is blessed by the ability to swipe from the classic rock songbook and swipe he does, picking the classic Queen pair of “We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions.” Michael does a smash-up job with them although he sings them utterly without camp, which is kind of his signature: he’s earnest, he means it man, and if he has something he knows by heart — and isn’t nonsensically truncated like “A Day in the Life” — he can pull of a triple, maybe even an in-the-park home run, even if he doesn’t quite hit it out of the park.

Carly: Only last night did it occur to me just how weird it is to have a woman married to the Illustrated Man — and who for all the world looks like she has a portrait of Amy Winehouse inked on her own arm — be so desperate to win American Idol. Carly does indeed look like the kind of girl that would be married to the guy that owns the tattoo shop, but she unfailingly picks the big, big songs that are heard only in mainstream outlets, not tattoo parlors, and I’d bet anything that ink keeps some voters away. Also, the disconnect between her excellent vocals and shifting image once again serves as a reminder of how her label couldn’t market her; she’s turning into a walking illustration of how the record industry sometimes just can’t get it right.

David A: What fresh hell was this? In the only performance this season that I’ve had to watch twice to marvel at it, David A chooses, of all songs you’ve never ever ever heard from 1990, a song called “You’re My Voice,” which happened to be on a 1990 David Foster album — remember him, he played with Katharine McPhee a couple weeks back — but, more importantly, is inane motivational psychobabble that could possibly be inspirational, you’d just never could tell from the maddeningly vague lyrics. The melody is as elusive as the words but David A sang the hell out of it, in a pretty unsettling telethon way. Once he was done, he thought he nailed it, smiling and muttering “It’s a great song,” oblivious to the dumbstruck Randy and Paula. And then Simon unleashed, first with his standard (yet always accurate) “It was like a theme park” dagger, which didn’t really cut, so the wily Brit plunged a sword right through David’s heart by saying he’d be “amazed if you chose the song yourself,” a shockingly forthright acknowledgment of the rumors that little David has been stage-managed by his domineering dad since the days of Star Search. It hits David so hard he almost buckles, so you feel bad for the kid — because he’s, you know, a kid that has been running this silly game for his entire life — but then you go back and check out the performance and sit awestruck at how horrible, clueless, and completely divorced from reality this thing is. It does have two things going for it, though: first, it’s the only song performed this night that feels like it was excavated from the singer’s birth year and, second, it has the distinction of being the worst song ever heard on this show.

Kristy Lee: Only in a show where David A’s dad picks “You’re My Voice” could Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” not be a shoo-in for the worst song on the show, and while I still hate this song with the passion that I did back in 1984, where it rivaled “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” as the song that threw me into silent fits of rage, I kinda love Kristy Lee Cook for being sharp and cynical enough to pull this card from her sleeve, as it guarantees at least two, maybe three, more weeks on the show. How good a move was this? So good that Simon acknowledged its brilliance (even if he’s wrong on the brilliance of the song), and those rare words of praise made Kristy Lee positively beam with delight… not just because he acknowledged she sang well, the best she has, but because she schemed and it paid off. She’s a girl after his own heart.

David C: So David C can photocopy a Chris Cornell dirge interpretation of “Billie Jean” and be called “brave,” perhaps the “most original” singer on the show “ever”? Even though the show acknowledged that the “arrangement” belonged to another singer? Guess that just means that most of the audience probably can’t tell Chris Cornell from Kady Malloy, or Chris Daughtry, the singer David C wants to both be and beat, as if Idol was an Oedipal saga. Sure, maybe he can win — his “braveness” can fool the audience and the judges, as can his icky doe-eyed attempt to suppress his inner smugness — but this phony still seems like a creation confined to the television. Then again, if the prize is collaborations with Chad Kroeger, who can say you really won at all?

Matt Collar
The “rockers” staked their claim last night on Idol. Both Michael Johns and David Cook delivered good performances that should easily carry them for another week if not longer. That said, I’m still not very interested in either of these guys. Cook is the more interesting of the two, but his whole “Watch me do an R&B song in post-grunge style” is at best an effective gimmick and at worst a move most bands don’t have to make until they’ve hit the Vegas/Branson circuit.

In some ways, I preferred Jason Castro’s laid-back flamenco-folk version of “Fragile.” Sure, his singing was slight and his guitar strumming was ragged, but in that same sense he reminded me of an indie-rock Caetano Veloso or at least Manu Chao meets Ryan Cabrera.

I felt bad that Brooke flubbed her intro and I think that made the rest of her performance seem rushed. I would like to think she has good public support, but I just can’t gauge whether or not she and even Carly are garnering much populist excitement. Speaking of Carly, I thought she was phenomenal again, but I still felt a bit of an emotional distance from her performance. With just OK singers like Cook stepping up his conceptual game and throwing himself into each song, I dunno if Carly’s technical prowess and obvious vocal guts will carry her to the finals.

Andrew Leahey
David Cook David Cook David Cook. Whether or not you approve of his hairdo or supposed smugness, the guy is by far the strongest performer at the moment. While the other David continues to stumble over anything that isn’t teen-approved cotton candy, Cook is a model for consistency, having turned in the longest-running streak of solid performances this year. He seems to be a very polarizing contestant — you either love him or you hate him, basically, and I’m possibly one of the only AMGers who falls into the former camp — but you just can’t deny the strength of his “Billie Jean” performance. Yes, it borrowed from the Chris Cornell version, but remember how Chris Daughtry modeled his rendition of “I Walk the Line” after a cover by Live? So who’s cooler, Chris Cornell or Ed Kowalczyk? (Hint: the cooler person does not sing the phrase “her placenta falls to the floor” in his biggest single.)

Since I’m currently very happy due to A) the sunny weather; B) David Cook’s high notes; and C) my impending lunch of tasty Thai takeout, I’m reluctant to write anything truly negative about the other contestants. So while I have a hard time believing that the 29-year-old Michael Johns will remain relevant to American Idol’s young demographic for any considerable length of time (and definitely not after the next season launches in early 2009), I do think he did a passable Queen medley. And while Kristy Lee Cook didn’t exactly bring the house down last night, she deserves to make it through to next week’s round, if only because the Dolly Parton songbook will allow her to finally (finally!!!) show off her country artistry. The same semi-enthusiasm goes for Chikezie and Syesha, although Chik would definitely be in trouble if Ramiele weren’t around (and she won’t be around for much longer). Who knows what happened to the solid performer who belted out a Dusty Springfield song several weeks ago, but she’s long since been replaced by a karaoke singer who gets her threads from the mismatched bin at American Apparel and delivers every ballad with the same sap as the Spice Girls’ “2 Become 1.” Was that mean? Maybe it’s time for my Thai food.

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