You Have A Horrible Voice

You Have A Horrible Voice

by Paulette Frank

So it’s the final audition night, and Ryan claims they’ve saved the best for last, so I’m thinking it’s sort of a best-of-the-best show, but I’m skeptical when the first contestant they focus on is “Pants On The Ground Guy”. Yes, yes, it’s a nationwide phenomenon, blah blah blah. There are bluegrass versions, acoustic guitar versions, a capella group versions, and apparently, it’s even made it to congress, or town hall, or some such political venue. Blah, blah, blah. But anyway, the point is that song choice is important.

So that’s how and why Jessica Furney from the Denver auditions is introduced. When she auditioned in season 8, looking a bit blob-like and flannely and bespectacled, she sang “Piece Of My Heart”, and now that she’s a bit more svelte and fashion-conscious (with better hair, but still looking kind of like Lisa Loeb), she’s trying again, this time singing a song called “Footprints In The Sand”, which was co-written by Simon Cowell (I’m always suspicious of the word ‘co-write’ and its derivatives–“No, Mr. Kristofferson, I think we should use the word ‘yet’, not ‘but’!! … BAM! I’m a co-writer), but she swears she’s not trying to suck up. It doesn’t matter whether she is or isn’t though, because she sings quite beautifully, and who the hell cares what her intentions were? Four yeses.

Amanda Schectman from the Boston auditions entertains Ryan in the waiting area by doing a fairly spot-on Britney Spears impression (“Okay, now do Lil Wayne,” he says when she’s done), and then she does this ventriloquism kind of thing for the camera. But then when she sings in her audition, she moves her mouth so little it’s sorta like she’s still ventriloquizing. But she sings well with a good range. “I think you need to work on your expression, definitely,” offers Posh. Kara thinks she needs to work on connecting with the song she’s singing, and Randy wants to know what Simon thinks of that. “You can connect with me, Amanda,” he says, and I’m not sure if it’s a come-on or what, but Amanda seems to understand what he’s saying, because she says, “Seriously??” like it’s this huge deal, so I’m thinking either he likes her voice or her minidress. But then she goes off on this breathy, desperate explanation of why she doesn’t really connect with her music, something about drama, and acting, and they show the judges talking and her reaction and nothing seems to fit together so I’m wondering if she’s just really this dramatic or they’ve spliced her audition together in some weird way. Posh says yes and Kara says yes, and then Simon does this painfully long, drawn-out expression of indecision, but of course everyone knows he’s going to say yes, but drama queen pretends she doesn’t and pleads her case to him all the while. Damnit, Randy, couldn’t you offer up a yes and get this damn thing over with??

So then we hear from a couple of people whose instruments are their security blankets (or “comfort blanket”, as Crystal Bowersox calls hers), but Lee Dewze does just fine singing “Ain’t No Sunshine” without his guitar, as does Crystal, who keeps hers at the ready while singing “Piece Of My Heart” with blonde dreds and teeth to match (but she’s got a sweet, genuine smile–so what if she doesn’t want to fork over 20 bucks for a package of Crest Whitestrips? ).

Then there’s a montage of fakeouts, starting with a bereted kid with a violin (fiddle?) who pulls a golden ticket out from under his purple t-shirt after walking out all dejected. Cue the music (“I GOTcha! Uh-HUH, HUH … ). So the fakeouts are a time-honored tradition, according to Ryan, who goes on to point out that if it’s good enough for Chris Daughtry (who was hiding the ticket in his cowboy hat way back when), it’s good enough for this season’s contestants. Oh, look, there’s the beatboxing guy! And that girl with the divorced parents and a little brother (yeah, hell of a sob story … mine would be that last month I paid my cable bill late and was charged an extra $2.73 … “It’s just [sobbing] when I think of all the other things I could’ve used that money for … I mean, over a GALLON of gas, or, like, two McDoubles and a newspaper … it’s just … I really, REALLY need this to happen for me right now [sobbing].”).

All right, so another montage is next, this time of returning contestants (“Do you remember me?”), including Really Tan Girl. But then there’s Lacey Brown, whom we last saw next sitting next to Megan Joy in the top 50 and finding out it was the end of the road for her. But she wasn’t discouraged, despite the fact that she looks sort of like a cross between Annabella Sciorra and Fairuza Balk (really, though, there are way worse combinations). She’s wearing a striped shirt with a red scarf covered either with leopard spots, amoebae, or halved avocadoes, and she sings “Over The Rainbow” with interesting phrasing, and she’s definitely one of Kara’s favorites. She gets another chance at Hollywood.

And then there’s Stephanie Fisher, who has a crush on Simon but whose idol is Posh Spice, the most beautiful creature she’s ever seen. She’s obsessed with the number seven (born in the seventh month; weighed seven pounds, seven ounces; her house is the seventh house on her street; etc., etc.), so naturally, since this is her seventh audition, she’s gotta be through! She’s wearing the exact outfit (including shoes and fishnets) that the girl who grew up across the street from me used to wear to her jazz dance classes when she was, like, eight. “Wow! I almost wore the same thing!” says Randy. Stephanie sings “Fever”, and really, it’s not the absolute worst, but it’s not, you know, good. And Simon says it’s terrible. “To be honest, I’m really starstruck by Victoria Beckham,” explains Stephanie. “She’s, like, my fashion icon.” Randy pipes up, “Oh, thank you!” Why, you’re welcome, Randy. Posh looks like she wants to make some kind of announcement, a disclaimer, perhaps (“Posh Spice did not approve the outfit worn by this contestant. The views expressed by the wearer of this outfit are not necessarily the views of Posh Spice.”), but says instead, “Thank you!” before offering to turn the other way while Stephanie tries again. Yeah, that didn’t help. “Even worse,” notes Simon before adding, “With the greatest respect, you have a horrible voice.” (No offense, but you’re really ugly. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I find you incredibly boring and quite repulsive. Yeah, insults always sound better with those meaningless little groups of words in front of them.) Stephanie wants to know if he’s serious, and he is. Can he give her a few minutes to get unnervous? They’d need years. “It’d be, like, American Idol 27,” says Simon. Randy suggests that Posh talk to Stephanie, to offer some kind of encouragement, I guess, but Simon shines this huge, glaring light on Posh by asking her, “Do you like what she’s wearing?” to which Posh smoothly replies, “You know, I think she has a very definite look.” (“Do these jeans make me like a gigantic lardass?” “You know, those jeans are definitely blue.”)

So then it’s a trio of 16-year-olds: Rachel, Thaddeus, and Genesis. Rachel has purple eye shadow and hair hanging in her face and looks sort of like Susan Sarandon’s daughter, Eva what’s-her-name, but she sounds powerful and controlled. Thaddeus is big and black and is sort of shouty while he sings “How Am I Supposed To Live”, but is still good, and Genesis, who’s black but much smaller and quite pretty (though in a plain, I-don’t-care, sort of way) sings “I Told You So” by Randy Travis, though she probably says Carrie Underwood. Oh, GOD, Kara tells her she’s got chops. I HATE it when Kara talks about chops!! Kara, you don’t have the chops to use the word ‘chops’. Shut up. Choose another word. How about … nincompoop. Anywho, they’re all through.

Next, Ryan tells us how the 100,000 contestants come from all different walks of life: waiters, clowns, policemen, cheerleaders, blah, blah, blah. The ones he really wants us to see are the athletes. The AI auditions drew gymnasts, ultimate frisbee-ists, football players, horseshoe throwers, and of course, a girl who tells us, “I am technically the female version of Bruce Lee.” Then we see her roundhouse kick. Yeah, I’m sold. I’m technically the female version of Bill Gates, because last week my paycheck had not one, but TWO zeros. Anyway, Ryan talks about how winning is the number one goal, but these athletes, just like the other contestants, find out that making it past the judges can be a tall order. Cue the 6’8” guy. He’s white, 17, sort of flabby, and no, he can’t dunk. “I’m a terrible jumper,” he tells Randy. But he swims, and we see him in action, looking kind of unbalanced off the block, but not too bad in the water. Still, though, it seems like a joke, and then we know for sure when he starts talking about how he’s a beautiful manflower, and how he’ll blossom, with a beautiful big blossom that keeps blossoming until it shows its entire glory and beauty. He wants to prove that it doesn’t matter what size you are when you sing, and for America, “I’m the only one.” The only … what? “Wow, you’re tall!” notes Kara when he walks into his audition. “How tall are you?” He’s 6’8”. I find it hard to believe it’s not written somewhere on the piece of paper in front of her. “Nice!” she says. He’s going to sing a hit by Elvis Presley, “I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You”, and then, well, he sings it, sort of. His voice sounds like it’s coming from a seven year-old boy (a very nervous, very weird seven-year-old boy), and Kara says, “Adrian, there’s, like, a small schoolboy trapped inside you!” “Either that, or you’ve eaten one,” says Simon. Ha ha. Adrian’s big. But then Simon tells him he’s not a horrible singer, which is weird, since he’s told people way better that they’re horrible. Whatever, he didn’t make it. Oh, but they have his number in case they want to do “recallbacks” . And so does Ryan, in case they want to call him back. Or they can email him.

But then there’s another athlete, Michael Lynch, who’s black and tattooed and hugely muscular and tells us he’s a personal trainer. With his hat and dog tags, he looks like he should be in the army, but also looks like he’d weigh the HumVee down so much it’d get stuck in the sand. He sings “Unchained Melody”, and Kara and Kristin Chenowith gaze at him kind of dirtily. “He’s kind of like a singing teddy bear,” says Kara. Hollywood-bound.

Next is Didi Benami, whose best friend Rebecca (who looks like the currently brunette Britney Spears but with a more blobby nose) died four years ago (How? How? Tell me how!! Suicide? Cancer? Freak chainsaw accident? How??). We see a bunch of cute pictures of the BFFs (several seem to be of Rebecca singing), and Rebecca is definitely the reason that Didi chose to pursue music, because she believed in her when Didi didn’t even believe in herself. “I miss her,” she says tearfully. She arrives at the audition in a full-length, silky, colorful sundress sort of thing, and she has kind of brassy blonde hair but a beautiful smile and beautiful eyes and very pretty skin. She sings “Hey, Jude”, and though her voice is reminiscent of Megan Joy’s in that her annunciation is kind of … weird, it’s catchy and moving and I want to see more. When she stops, she starts to cry because she’s so nervous and her heart is, like, beating out of her chest. But Kara does her BS comforting routine and assures her she “did good”. Randy says he actually liked her, Simon gives her a very small yes (“But it’s a yes,” he tells her), and Avril tells her yes because she thinks she has huge potential. “You’re going to Hollywood,” says Kara.

After that is Aaron Kelly, who speaks with conviction of the hardships he endured when he was a year old, when things weren’t going well with his biological parents, who had such a hard time caring for him and his brother that social services was ready to step in. But instead, his aunt and uncle stepped in, and those are the people he calls his mom and dad. Or at least, he calls his aunt his mom. To hell with his no-good, no-name uncle (I’m guessing). Anyway, he’s got spikily-gelled sort of frosted hair, a royal blue crew-neck T-shirt, a big white belt, and a white and blue necklace. How coordinated. He’s going to sing a Miley Cyrus song, “The Climb”. Will this be a joke? No, it’s kind of beautiful. He’s sort of adorable, and lots of moms will probably want to bake him lots of cakes and iron his clothes. Randy likes that he’s 16 and shy and that that voice comes out of someone so shy. Hollywood.

Next is Kimberley Bishop, who claims she has what it takes to be the next American Idol because she has a very good heart and she would be very into recycling and helping the kids in Africa. Sauntering into the audition room in a little black dress and looking all strung out, she tells Randy he’s lost weight and she’s seen him on TV. “Thank you,” he says. She’s going to sing “I Kissed A Girl” and then she sings and is awful, but is trying to look sexy, and Kara seems to think she succeeds, because she says sort of coyly, “A seductive girl. I think you’re naughty.” But it’s a no. But after she asks if she may be excused and we watch her leave, her tramp stamp just visible above the back of her dress, Simon notes, “She’d be fun on a date, wouldn’t she?”

Then there’s Shadaii Harris, who waits for her audition with ear buds in her ear, looking all in the zone and ready and serious and completely talented. She’s black and wide-eyed and big-lipped and white-teethed and she’s going to flat-out rock, I just know it. But then her mom talks about the vision the Lord gave her when she was pregnant with Shadaii, something about her little girl sitting on her hip and singing. So the mom told Shadaii all the time growing up that she would sing. Damn, we were so close. She sings “Fallin’” by Alicia Keys, and she’s, like, COMPLETELY tone-deaf . DAMN!! Plus, I couldn’t help staring at her tongue, which had a red spot on it like she’d been sucking on a cherry Ludens for, like, six and a half hours. “Tell you what. I actually can’t hear that song anymore. I‘m actually allergic to it now,” says Simon. I think I’m more allergic to “At Last”. “Honey, that wasn’t even the melody, sweetie,” says Kara. “She doesn’t even know it’s not the melody,” says Randy. “She’s not … she’s just … not a good singer.” Shadaii wonders, “Can I try something else?” but Randy informs her, “No, baby, you can’t sing. This is not … ugh … ” But she tries anyway. Randy tries, too. “You can’t sing!”

After a little recap of the audition cities (ending with Dallas and the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders), we’re back to the best of the best. 19-year-old Hope Johnson of Arlington, TX, grew up with six brothers and one sister and she thought that it was normal for kids to go without dinner at home (after all, they could eat lunch in the school cafeteria the next day). She used to sneak school food home to her little brother because he’d cry when he said he was hungry. There are a lot worse things than going without, she says, a lot worse, and music’s her escape. She can sing a song, and we’ll know exactly what she’s talking about. She hopes the judges see her positive side, that she’ll walk up and they’ll go, “Oh, she’s a star.” Well, she sang “I Hope You Dance” very prettily, pretty much exactly what I expected from her raspy speaking voice. Kara thinks there’s something interesting about her and her tone, and Randy thinks she’s sweet and innocent and loves her song choice, though he thinks she needs to work on completing her phrases (translation: diaphragm support, I think). Simon likes her and thinks she’s cute, and she’s through. “Welcome to Hollyweird!” says Randy. “That was the most overwhelming experience I think I’ve ever experienced so far in my life,” she says afterwards.

And that’s it. We see flashes of other golden ticketees, like bridge-jumping girl, lots of Down-Syndrome-adopted-siblings girl, Jack Black lookalike guy, etc., plus rejects like tiptoeing guy, “Holla!” guy, and winking-winking-winking-winking guy, plus more golden tickets, and then …

A little preview of Hollywood week, complete with Ellen Degeneres. “Together, we will embark on the journey known as Hollywood week,” announces Ryan. “They may be the most talented we’ve ever seen.” Slo-mo camera, tears, quips, etc. “But they have never broken down quite like this.” Tears, drama, blah, blah, blah … next week is Hollywood Week, and I am MORE than ready. No more sob-story fakeouts, no more ridiculously retarded getups, no more Joe Jonas or Avril Lavigne. The contestants so far have run together a bit, but I feel like next week, certain people will start to shine through. I’m looking forward to picking a favorite, too, because life without an AI favorite is like college without a major, or a canvas with no oil, or a pancake with no syrup, and I’m ready to CHOOSE!!!