Oh, good, Seacrest is dressed for the prom in 1978. A deep blue velvet jacket. I wonder if he’ll feel me up in the car afterward? I won’t tolerate that sort of behavior, though. I’m not that kind of guy. I like my rhymes fresh, not my escorts. Seacrest lays down this rap about how their ratings are more incredible than ever, and he thanks the audience for the ratings. I love gratitude, and I in turn would like to thank Seacrest for getting rid of the dumb little hipster T-shirts he used to wear. He’s way more suits-y this season, and I like this better. He’s Dick Clark now. He should be dressed up.
It’s ladies’ night, and Katherine McPhee is up first, singing “All in Love Is Fair.” That’s just the sort of old-timey spoo a young lady should be selecting for a competition voted on by middle-school kids. It was more fun watching her tickle Kelly Pickler in the pre-song “personality reel” and hear the two of them make snorting pig noises together. She has a great voice, but based on this performance she might as well be a singing waitress in one of those Italian restaurants where they have plastic grapes hanging from the ceiling. Paula tells her, “You move America.”
Kinnik Sky is dressed like she’s about to do a sketch comedy piece about loony cracker hicks. She’s wearing a Western getup and a cowboy hat. Maybe spurs too—I can’t see her feet. I guarantee you that this outfit was selected for her by some lazy-ass, literal-minded homosexual stylist when he found out she’d chosen a Gretchen Wilson song. She may be singing “Here for the Party” but she just looks “All Jacked Up” instead. Her moment is like a high school production of Oklahoma! with nontraditional casting.
OK, you know what I hate the most about the evolution of this show? The fake-applause-and-cheering moment that happens during every single song. It used to be that the kids earned the wild cheers. Now it is 1000% clear that there’s a big sign hanging over the audience that says “Go ape-shit NOW” and it flashes once during each performance. I want to be the guy who gets to turn on that sign. I would be supercreative with my timing. As it is, Lisa Tucker gets her sign switched on the second she opens her mouth a little wider than normal. This is a visual cue that a belting is about to go down. She tries to do justice to an old Jackson 5 song but it just comes out like another audition for the Aladdin show at California Adventure.
Melissa McGhee takes me by surprise by happily attacking “Why Haven’t I Heard From You” by Reba McEntire. She’s saucy and country, taking on the role of the recently vacated Womanimal. Her hair and her voice have tacky blond highlights, which is exactly what this kind of song calls for. Cut to her friends with the frosted-cupcake hair. They look like the kind of friends who’d race through their pal’s performance to get a look at themselves—FINALLY—on TV for effin’ once. In the postsong judges’ commentary, Melissa once again expresses her need for America to see “who I finally am.” She said almost exactly the same thing last week. Naked neediness is awesome.
Heather Cox is wearing some spazzed-out black unitard-looking thing with a big belt buckle on it and some chandelirious earrings. It’s important to make sure you got your outfit game on A+ like this when you’re about to tackle a Mariah Carey song. You, are, after all, going to reinterpret “Hero” for 30 million people. But guess what? You’ll never be M.C. If Mariah were there, she’d have the corpse of Ol’ Dirty Bastard up there to rap the bridge of the song from beyond the grave and she’d be frolicking about in an inflatable kiddie pool wearing a Galliano gown. You can’t win here, Heather Cox.
www.votefortheworst.com ALERT! It’s time for Brenna Gethers. But first, you might be wondering what exactly www.votefortheworst.com is. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a way to do what the hip snobs of this planet like to call Culture Jamming. Here’s how it works: You don’t vote for adorable talented little Paris Bennett no matter how much she deserves to win this contest right now. You don’t do that to poor little Paris Bennett because Paris Bennett deserves better from life. She’ll get a recording contract on her own. To let her win will just mean she’ll wind up shooting From Paris to Taylor on a beach somewhere in January. No, you want someone like Brenna to win. You want mayhem and cannibalism in the streets. You want blood to rain down from the sky, drowning the corrupt, evil music industry that demands you not file-share anything ever. That’s what you do. Also, it helps make the show not boring if you’ve got someone like Brenna, who’s essentially the kitten with a whip, onstage slutting it up and being obnoxious. I also like it when she goes AHHHHHWWWHHHH in the middle of her song, “Last Dance,” like she’s swallowed a tongue depressor.
“Why Paris Bennett Is Incredible: A Brief List” by Dave White
1. Kooky
fashions. I think she’s got like a corset or
something on over a white blouse. Also? Sick
choker.
2. Shortness. Short people are always way
cuter than supertall people.
3. She
destroys. She can take the most toxically awful song of all
time, “Wind Beneath My Wings,” and all
the gruesome things associated with it
(Beaches, Bette Midler, various diseases) and erase
them from your memory because she’s so damn
excellent.
Ayla Brown, the Teen Who Can Do All Things Well and Do Them All at the Same Time, tries “I Want You to Need Me” by Céline Dion. That’s a lot of wanting and needing. You get the feeling that she studies her tapes from week to week, honing her plan of attack, checking out books from the library on the subject of maximizing your human potential. She demurs when the subject of her school grades is brought up, claiming she’s not a great student, but I bet this is a lie to make people not hate her for being so perfect. You know she’s lugging a copy of Mencken’s Chrestomathy around in her bag. Randy says, “The Dawg liked it!”
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