American idol 5 -- episode 6

By: B -- 3/8/06

You know, I never learned how to whistle. Not properly anyway. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can occasionally create something that briefly resembles a whistle … but it only comes when I’m inhaling, which isn’t conducive to any sort of extended whistling activities. It’s just something I never picked up in my youth. A simple skill that’s eluded me.

So yes, I’m an idiot. And that’s fine. However, I’m proud to announce I’m not the biggest idiot in the world, and here’s my proof: I did learn how to properly clap. This skill, seemingly rudimentary, places me ahead of Paula Abdul in the Department of Motor Skills. Never, in all my days, have I seen such a retarded clapper.

What is her problem? How does one go through life, a life of a musician no less, without learning how to clap without looking like an overeager toddler? She claps with her arms outstretched, beating her hands together in a straight-on fashion resembling cheerleaders employing the old “alligator, alligator, eat ‘em up, eat ‘em up!” cheers from high school. I mean, not knowing how to whistle is one thing … but clapping? Seriously?

Anyway, I digress. On to the performances.

Gideon McKinney
Brings Michael Bolton to tears (which, let’s be honest, can’t be too difficult) by kicking all kinds of ass during “When A Man Loves A Woman.” The perfect tempo for his kinda-slow, kinda-soulful tone. The money.

Chris Daughtry
Chris’s impassioned quiver-voice is awesome always. And dramatic. Every performance of his, I start wondering, “jeez, what is this guy so pissed about? Is it me? Did I do something to anger Chris? Because he appears to be looking right at me, and he is obviously pained. Son of a bitch, what have I done?” Dude’s got some serious intensity.

Also: the stage back-lighting impressively displayed Chris’s ear hair. Just so you know. Awesome performance in a number of ways.

Kevin Covais
From here, it appears that Kevin’s nostrils could quite easily accommodate a fully grown kiwi. Thems some large nose holes, mister. How was his performance, you ask? Some “Starry, Starry Night” ballad that sounded like a tryout for a Feivel movie. Kevin, please go home. Your junior high school dearly misses its hall monitor.

Bucky Covington
As shitty as he was last week, by God. Paula claims she loves his “untapped potential,” which is sort of like keeping a baseball player on the team because, even though he bats .150 and is a liability on defense, he’s great at the bench press. If the best compliment you can give a grown man is “untapped potential,” well, let’s just say you might be looking too hard. Let us call a spade a spade: Bucky does not belong in this competition.

Will Makar
Lil’ Fred Savage channels Chris Klein a la American Pie with his over-the-top cheesy “How Sweet It Is.” He’s happy! and smiley! but not made for Motown. The performance is undeniably average, but Will gets bonus points simply for following Kevin and Bucky.

Taylor Hicks
Taylor is an absolute tease, and I mean that in the straightest way possible. Today, like last week, he implores the audience right away to come on! clap your hands! only to limp his way into an old man song, this week “Taking It To The Streets.” (“Hey!” exclaimed my step-dad, “I was just listening to that song earlier today! Sweet!” It was at this point that I stood up and asked out of the family.) The TiVo tells me, as I replay the performance later, that Taylor’s rendition actually gains momentum and ends in an energized fury. Gooooood stuff from my personal fave.

And an added bonus: awesome white-boy dancing clinic put on by Taylor tonight, as he employs the rare “one hand feverishly jumping rope” routine. I don’t know whether to laugh or dance along. As is the case with Hicksy’s performances, that confusion is an eternal struggle.

Elliot Yamin
In the pre-performance clip, Elliott admits that he has 90% hearing loss in one ear. Doesn’t that make his flawless voice all that more impressive? I mean, my uncle has similar ear problems, and when we were at my cabin last summer and he unexpectedly burst into song, birds dropped from the sky, dead on the spot. He was that bad.

Elliott was not. His choice of “Heaven” (you know the one, “I’m finding it hard to believe, we’re in heaven”) was a bit of a bore – the producers should force him to sing Motown every week, in my opinion – but the voice still soared compared to Elliott’s fellow competitors.

An impressive performance, once again.

(Hey, I did it! I got through the entire critique without making any jokes about Elliott’s ugliness! I’m mature!)

Ace Young
Ace squeaks and squeals his way through Michael Jackson’s “Butterfly,” singing most of the track in a sultry falsetto so high-pitched I wonder if he’s attached a clamp to his ballsack. He obviously wants to be Justin Timberlake (which is fine because I do, too). But, you know, I have to admit: dude pulled it off. A great performance, complete with the incessant steamy camera stares to go along with his flowing locks. Goddamn prettyboy.

Guys must hate him. I envision Ace’s future including a healthy amount of sucker punches from over-protective boyfriends. I can see it now: Ace walks into a bar, girl sees him and admits to her boyfriend how hot he is, girlfriend heads to the bathroom, jealous boyfriend runs up behind Ace and clocks him in the back of the head, security guards escort boyfriend out of the bar while a dazed Ace searches the ground for his beanie.

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