American Idol: Top 5, or “This is officially the strangest show we’ve ever done”

Heather Phares
No wonder Paula Abdul thought Jason Castro had already sung two times after the first round of performances on last night’s American Idol: the show was so dull and disappointing that it felt at least twice as long as it was. This had to be the weakest episode yet — you know you’re in trouble when Paula’s extreme befuddlement and shots of The Girls Next Door’s Bridget and Kendra in the audience are more exciting than the performances. Though he was hindered by some very scripted “witty” banter with Ryan Seacrest and a questionable new ‘do, David Cook proved again that it’s his competition to lose, turning in solid versions of lesser-known Neil Diamond songs that sounded like they could be on the radio — or, at least, commercials on the radio. David Archuleta was as squeaky-clean as ever with two of Neil’s schlockier numbers, “Sweet Caroline” and “Coming to America” (chosen in memory of Kristy Lee Cook, no doubt), and Brooke was her usual uneven self, turning in a dreadful “I’m a Believer” in head-to-toe sparkly denim but redeeming herself on one of the ultimate singer/songwriter songs, “I Am I Said.” And even though Paula’s comments for Jason Castro were premature, they weren’t inaccurate (since they were probably based on the dress rehearsal): Jason fared better on the hippie-dippy pop of “Forever in Blue Jeans” than he did on “September Morn,” which was only slightly less schmaltzy — but less affecting — than his whispery version of “Memory” from last week. Finally, Syesha continued to be the most polished and most forgettable contestant with “Hello,” and then remembered that she was supposed to be having fun like last week with “Thank the Lord for the Nighttime.” Both performances were fine, but her understated professionalism just might be her undoing this week.

Andrew Leahey
Alright. Episodes like this leave us with three possible conclusions:

1. Paula Abdul is clairvoyant.
2. Paula Abdul is stoned.
3. The conspiracy theorists were right, and this show is totally, utterly scripted.

At its best, American Idol is a harmlessly fun show that encourages healthy music criticism. It allows the TV-viewing public to take part in the machinations that turn everyday vocalists into superstars. Few media outlets challenge so many people to think about the music they consume — to choose between folksy crooners and flat-ironed emo rockers, male teenyboppers and female divas, Irish bar singers and Australian bluesmen. Whether or not that power is actually in our hands, we still have the illusion of choice — the fantasy that we’re in charge of our own musical landscape — and such authority (even if it’s all a pipe dream) helps us engage our inner Simon Cowell as we pinpoint the musical tics we hate, the tics we love, the singers who inspire us to vote, and so on. American Idol may only be a Star Search-styled program transplanted to the major leagues, but if done correctly, it has the potential to be something more.

Last night, however, Idol was a mess. Half the contestants were downright bad, and the ones who sang well only played into the stereotypes that were carved out for them weeks ago. Is this really the best crop of young American talent? Are we supposed to be proud that our votes have furnished an underwhelming Top Five with two stars, one Broadway candidate, and a pair of hit-or-miss guitar strummers? We learned nothing new, and Paula’s hilarious flub provided little relief from the tide of terrible television. Who’s going home tonight? Who knows. It’s out of our hands, really — but it’s apparently in Paula’s script.

Stephen Thomas Erlewine
Before we go any further, just a moment to say… what the blazing hell was last night’s show? Not counting “Idol Gives Back” — which should never be considered as part of the rubric of regular Idol, even though they kicked somebody off this year — this is the worst episode this season, probably the worst in several seasons, as they tried to cram two songs a piece from the Top Five into an hour, holding off commentary from the judges until the final performance. Well, that was the plan anyway, but for some reason the producers decided to turn to the judges halfway through the show, leading to stunning sight of Paula Abdul wandering far off script and giving a critique of Jason Castro’s second song before he sang it. If you’re charitable, she’s confused, relying on notes that she made during dress rehearsals. If you’re a conspiracist, you’ll take this as proof that the show is rigged, relying on notes given to her by producers. Either way, we’re all winners as it was a marvelous bit of a live television in a show that needed an unexpected moment, as the contestants are dispiritingly predictable. All the contestants are united in one other front: they have a hard time picking the right song.

Jason: By far the worst offender in terms of song selection was Jason Castro. Of all mainstream pop composers, only Neil Diamond has a wealth of songs suited to Castro’s sunny strum-along style (and, to get the cheap joke out of the way quickly, that’s not even including “The Pot Smoker’s Song”!), so what does Castro do? Not one but two songs from Neil’s late ‘70s/early ‘80s peak as schmaltzy adult contemporary balladeer, trying to smile his way through “Forever In Blue Jeans” and then crooning “September Morn” badly. “Forever In Blue Jeans” had a semblance of the sunniness that has kept Jason charming but there’s no two ways around it: these songs choices add up to a colossal blunder for Castro, suggesting that he neither can pick songs nor has a true understanding of his own style.

David C: You certainly can’t say that David Cook doesn’t understand who he is or that he can’t pick songs. He has the fortitude to sift through the entire Neil Diamond catalog and pick two dull, crawling songs nobody knows and then contort them into his signature overblown yet anonymous post-grunge. As he grew up in an age where obscurity equaled credibility, he always favors the unknown to the familiar, which lends his choices a stupid arrogance; he picks the right songs but the songs are bad, yet he’s convinced they’re good because only he knows them. He winds up picking songs that showcase him, not the song, and when they’re judged just as songs, they’re tunes nobody wants to hear and they show that the guy has no taste at all.

Brooke: In contrast to David C, Brooke picks songs everybody knows. One of them everybody knows too well — the rightly deathless “I’m a Believer” which she turns too sugary, a feat that previously seemed impossible. It was Brooke at her absolute worst — all butterflies, sunshine and popsicles — but she redeemed herself by a soft, comparatively sparse “I Am I Said” that showcased her warm crooning at her best, as even her cracking voice lent it some emotional heft. It was as good as she should have been and it makes you wonder why on earth she picked “I’m a Believer” for her first song, as “You Got To Me” would have filled that same uptempo bill better.

David A: Jason and Brooke had worse performances, but hands down the most unbearable contestant of the night was — surprise surprise — David Archuleta, who breathlessly seized the opportunity to be a schmaltzy cheeseball. He was merely awful on “Sweet Caroline,” shoehorning runs where the song won’t allow it, and utterly horrific on “America,” singing with a po-faced sincerity that shows he can’t even be a good lounge singer because he doesn’t know how bloody ridiculous the tune is (quite the opposite of Neil’s original). At this point, I almost want him to take the thing just to see how bad his album will be.

Syesha: Ever willing to show off, Syesha picks a tune for her voice and a tune to tear it up, singing both expertly and quite boringly. She’s better on the ballad, as it really gives her a chance to run, but the decision to try make the faux-gospel of “Thank the Lord for the Nighttime” real (when it would have been better off in the hands of Jason, who would have had the audience clap along) shows she’s destined for the literalism of the theatah, not the pop charts.

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