Idol Chatter: Three's a Crowd

Arion Berger left on a jet plane to cover the Cannes Film Festival, so Express' Greg Barber is your guest judge for Tuesday's "American Idol."

THREE IS THE MAGIC NUMBER this week. Three finalists, three songs each, three judges — and there are at least three ways I'd like to smack around Ryan Seacrest right from the get-go. Could he be any more unnecessarily haughty with his "This ... is ... AMERican IDOL" show intro? The cure for cancer will be announced with less gusto.

No guest coach today, which makes me wonder whether the show can still reach its usually high level of suck-uppage. How will they possibly fill time without a star's ego to massage? With singing?

Speaking of, Seacrest explains how the night's selections were chosen: The judges have picked one of the songs for each contestant, the faceless but oh-so-powerful producers picked a second one and the hopefuls themselves picked a third. Like those carefully choreographed family photos that were always followed by "OK, now let's do a funny one!"

» EVERYWHERE A SIGN: *Whew.* Like the Dyson vacuum of television shows, "AI" hasn't lost its suction. But this week, instead of a gaggle of star-struck wannabes far too young to know much about The Bee Gees chirping about how very, very excited they were to work with Barry Gibb, it's hometowns declaring their eternal gushing adoration for that dude or chick from "American Idol" they're going to forget in a month or so.

Glendale, Ariz., for example, loves itself some Jordin Sparks. From shouty-talky Mayor Elaine Scruggs to wavy-chanty crowds with banners to — wait, is that a billboard? Seriously? She's a singer on TV, people, not McGruff the crime dog. Scruggs bellows that she's got a fax from Simon that says Jordin's first song will be "Wishing on a Star" by Rose Royce. A lot of effort for an intro. Too bad that money couldn't have been donated to Idol Gives Back.

The song's smidge too little-girlish a selection, which I guess feeds into the show's "she's just a teenager, dawg" mentality (watch her performance here). The vocal's on-target, and she's got a great presence, although I hope wardrobe will be kinder to her for the next song — her dress looks like a shower curtain.

Randy compares her to Beyonce.

Paula attempts playful banter with Simon, then slurs "sssssagreatwaytostartheshow" as she leans in so close to her mic that it's now illegal for anyone under 21 to talk into it.

Simon didn't like the arrangement. Jordin attempts to respond, but she's cut off by the music — like a guitar-powered cyclone, that thing is — then by the unsilenceable Seacrest. "You didn't like your own choice," he says to Simon mockingly. "I didn't say that Ryan," Simon responds huffily, "I didn't like the arrANGEment." Then Jordin mocks the song juuuust a little. Simon isn't pleased.

» RED LIGHT SPECIAL: Blake is back home in Bothell, Wash. No billboards, but plenty of trees — take that, Glendale — and a town-squareload of screaming fangirls. Are they there for Johnny Beatbox, though, or the creepily old-seeming, young-looking mayor?

Paula, natch, picked Blake's song: "Roxanne" by The Police (watch here). He is once again rocking a sweater-vest — or is it rocking him? (By the way, I saw a college-age guy on the Key Bridge on Monday wearing Blake's white argyle ensemble from last week. Except with sunglasses and a hipster sneer. That's how quickly Georgetown kids seize a trend and squeeze the life out of it like pop-collared boa constrictors.)

Have you ever noticed how Blake keeps looking over his right shoulder while he sings as if he was the Witness Protection Program's biggest assignment mistake? Nine times this song.

The performance is dynamic — he looks really at home up there and the dancing with the mic stand was surprisingly un-Rod Stewartlike. And not a beat was boxed, thank Justin Timberlake. Nice oomphy finish.

Randy liked the mic stand thing, too. "That was hot."

Paula loved it.

Simon makes a valid point: The song choice really restricts the singer. It's not the kind of song you can really make your own: The original vocal is so distinctly Sting that anybody else trying to do it sounds like an impersonator.

The crowd, however, wants nothing to do with valid points. "You caaaahnnt say it was fantastic!" Simon pleads. But he's overwhelmed by the Jarring Riff of Transition. And Seacrest, as expected, revels in his pain.

» BEING WHITNEY HOUSTON: Melinda gets the governor of Tennessee for her hometown visit, and you can just hear Nashville Mayor Bill Purcell chucking a shoe at the TV from his couch. Randy's fax to him begins "check it out," which means somebody's seen how smooth that catch phrase looks on mugs and tote bags.

Melinda will be singing Whitney Houston's "I Believe in You and Me."

It's no pedestrian choice: Miss Houston's star may have faded in recent years, but her tunes — and this one in particular — are not to be attempted by mere mortals. Even the best of crooners are reduced to beauty pageant runners-up when Whitney's on their set list.

Melinda knocks it out of the park. Her vocal range seems to span even wider than usual, and she finishes it off with some Whitney-esque vocal flourishes. She's just toying with us, isn't she?

Randy: "That was hot." He loved the falsetto.

Paula says it was one of her best performances, then appears to have trouble staying in her chair.

Simon says it was her best performance of the show. I believe it.

Awkward banter: Seacrest yo-yo-yos to Randy. Simon asks "are you drunk?" I could swear I see Paula nod. "Am I drunk?" Seacrest asks. "Are you looking at me asking that?" "I'm asking you." "No, I'm totally sober." Something about having a cocktail during the break. Then, one of them drops their pants. I made the last part up. But it wouldn't surprise me.

» ROUND 2: BLONDE AMBITION: A stupid audience question for Jordin: "What's your favorite song of all time?" Stupid answer: "Mmmbop" by Hanson. Really? Favorite song ever? "Come on, I'm 17, OK." Riiight. Ryan sings it. It's cringe-inducing. But now he looks like more of an ass than she does, so mission accomplished.

Jordin's second song is "She Works Hard for the Money" by Donna Summer (watch here). The outfit's much better, but her stage walking looks stiff. She nails the ending. It's good, but not her best work.

Randy's word of the night is "hot," which all of the songs thus far have been. Paula says it's fantastic. Simon's laughing. The judges laugh, laugh, laugh and never tell us why. Just what every 17-year-old loves when she's on stage in front of millions.

Blake has on entirely too many white jackets, like he's expecting rain, snow and a Commodores reunion all at once. Stupid question: "If they were to make a movie about your life, what would the title be and who would play your part?" Stupid answers: Jim Carrey and "Organized Chaos." Fascinating.

He's singing "This Love" by Maroon 5, the mysterious producers handing him a hard-charging rockish gem sure to tickle fan fancies (watch here).

But maybe not. The backup vocals are up waaaaay too loud, making Blake's voice sound weak on its own. And the beatboxing is back. Maybe it's his security blanket; I counted only two nervous lookbacks.

Randy: "That's the kind of record you should make."

Paula: "You're totally in your element." Then she coughs loudly into her mic. She'll do anything for sweeps month.

Simon: "You sounded very comfortable. … That was good."

Melinda's grandparents are cute. Stupid question: "Who was your idol growing up and why?" Easy answer: "My Mommy." The producers have chosen "Nutbush City Limits" by Ike & Tina Turner. Translation: They liked her rockish Bon Jovi turn and wanted more.

She struts around the stage like a woman who knows she holds the place in the palm of her hand (watch here). The only thing she couldn't control was a pesky piece of hair that I was sure would choke her.

Randy's all about telling the finalists what to put on their albums now. Paula professes love. Simon does, too.

Who takes that round, Seacrest asks. A tie, the judges demur. Way to earn that paycheck, guys.

» ROUND 3: WE WHO HAVE TOO MUCH: EW! It looks like Paula's kissing Simon. The kibbutzing finally stops when they're told that they're back on the air. It's all very traumatizing. Even my Asexual Viewing Companion (she's a 1-year-old cat with no claws and no tail named Weezie) turns away in horror.

Jordin is forever immortalized at the bottom of a shopping mall escalator. Until the bear-footprint floor ads for a sale at Hudson Trail Outfitters go in, that is.

She chooses "I Who Have Nothing" (watch here). She appears to paw at the camera a little, which intrigues Weezie. Her voice is lush, the arrangement is cacophonous, and this, finally, is the right outfit for her. She looks like a star.

Randy thinks it's her best performance of the night. And ... wait for it ... it was "very, very hot."

Paula: "It really set … sat … ssss … sat well in you, in your voice and how, how it built and it just ... sounded really great. Good choice."

Simon: "There's a part of me that hated that a 17-year-old was singing a 60-year-old song." The audience boos. He loves it. Funny, though, that he calls Jordin on being a whippersnapper singing old songs when Melinda's got the same penchant. "My Funny Valentine," anyone? First performed in 1937.

Seacrest tells Jordin to give the audience her come-hither stare. Dude, is that legal?

Oh. My. God. A short clip shows Blake performing "Baby Got Back" with Sir Mix-a-Lot, a song yours truly memorized in the ninth grade. I still know almost all of the words today. Except the part right after "you say you wanna get in my Benz." That could be the best thing I've seen on this show all season.

He's singing "When I Get You Alone" by Robin Thicke, who looks frighteningly like his dad. Only one nervous lookback, but the decrease might be on account of the quick beatboxing binge at the end, which brought down the whole performance (watch here). He was otherwise electric, and his dance moves, which can verge on Davy Jones-level cheese, were spot-on. But the beatboxing really makes him seem like a one-trick pony.

Randy: "It was all right."

Paula: "It showcased who you are as an artist."

Simon: "I actually really liked that." But then he wrote Blake's epitaph. "This is what I have liked about you throughout the competition, which is you don't play it safe, you take a risk, you look like you're having fun ... good for you."

More verbal foreplay between Simon and Seacrest. (Seacrest out, indeed.)

Weezie, by the way, has spent the entire final round thus far perched on the bathroom sink staring at the light fixture. I think it was "Mmmmbop" that tore it.

Melinda sees Jordin's billboard and raises her a street name: Melinda Doolittle Way. Uhm, Nashville, Melinda's a good singer and all — really good — but aren't you home to scads of famous people a bit more deserving of such an honor? Oh yeah, you are.

She's singing "I'm a Woman." (Released in 1963, if you're counting.) The opening's awkward — Melinda's clearly never slung a jacket over her shoulder in her life (watch here). And she sings the fast-talky lyrics so quickly and with so much guttural fuzz that you can barely understand them. But the girl-power finale with the backup singers is two parts Diana Ross, one part Tina and a dash of Aretha. We are but pawns in Melinda's game.

Randy rightly praises her range.

Paula likes that Melinda's put herself in the spotlight so much that she says it twice, thinking it's an original, independent thought each time. She doesn't know where she is.

Simon says Melinda's headed to the finals. That seems like a pretty safe bet.

» OUR FEARLESS PICKS: We're going to go with Simon: Viewers will sling Blake out in a cardboard beatbox (he really had better keep an eye out behind him), and it'll be a Melinda-Jordin duel: divas at dawn. The vox populi will be heard tonight; we'll be back tomorrow.

Photos courtesy Fox

Posted By Greg Barber at 1:12 PM on May 16, 2007 Tagged in Arts & Events , Idol Chatter , Television , Top Columns

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