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Category — TUNES

Androgyny Idol

The writers are back. The Oscars are a-go-go. And American Idol has gone….Androg?! What?

I know it’s been on for a couple of weeks now. And yes, I watch it and love it with or without writers striking. I cried for that poor girl who lost her dad and auditioned two days later. Come to think of it, it is a bit weird but hey, that’s TV. And that poor boy who lived in his car? The Leo DiCaprio lookalike? He was ever so Christopher McCandless, but striking out for the wilds of Hollywood instead of Alaska. Devastated when he didn’t make it. But there’s always next year. And that guy from the town of 220? The one whose mom wanted a homecoming queen, but just got…the queen? What happened to him? I’ll be looking for both boys in Season 8.

But let’s discuss the boys of Season 7. Mostly forgettable, to be sure. But so many ladyboys! And so many girlymen. I’m not just talking sexual orientation. I’m talking s/he. I’m sorry, but Danny Noriega would make for a stunning woman. And tho’ he channeled Jonathan Rhys Meyers rather than Elvis last night, I loved him. He’s got my vote.

As does the Youngster. David Thingy. Usually they get some young dude who blows (not in a good way). But this time, the 16-year old of the week (or did he say he turned 17?) was unf&ckingbelievable. He has my vote too.

As does Dreads Travolta, the stoner of the group. Did anyone else notice how, despite the crazy locks and the hippy vibe, the guy is a shoo in for our beloved Danny Zuko? Who wouldn’t vote for that? I would.

And finally, my fave, Michael Johns. Or is it John Michaels? Y’know, the last guy. The Man. The only one of the lot who ooooooooozed it. Love love love him. As a tv crush only of course. And maybe because he looks like my favourite hockey card, the almost-has-been, Darcy Tucker. (Long live #16! Long live no trade clauses!)

But my guy Si was right on the money, all night long. The Manly Man from Oz has “it”. It = sex. There were the guys who radiated Christian country and/or 50’s whitey pop groups. Or some wholesome combo. And the indistinguishable boy band graduates, nary a T-lake among ’em. Or that horrible Axel Rose wannabee. Who wears a bandana that screams “botox me?” Seriously, didn’t that strange design look like eyeborws that needed lifting, or at the very least, plucking? Eeeeew, I nealry forgot about that other faux-rocker with the terrible comb-over. And don’t get me started on that theatrical Chuck ‘n Buck fellow. Gross.

Oh Idol….I’m so glad you’re back. Bring on the androg, the youngster, the dreads. And of course, the hottie. They’ve all got my vote. Too bad it doesn’t count.

Oh wait! I almost forgot to mention Chickezie Jacuzzi. He of the orange suit and lovely demeanor. He’s sweet. he can sing. But does he have what it takes to be remembered? I thought so last night, but obviously in the cold light of day he falls a little short….

Last year, the ladies kicked butt – Be Bop Blake notwithstanding. And tonight, it’s Ladies’ night. Show ’em girls. I dare you….

1 comments:

Anonymous said…

The fact that you can reference Danny Zuko and Darcy Tucker in one entry both awes and frightens me.

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February 20, 2008   No Comments

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The Day the Music(al) Died

Disclaimer: I am a musicals person.

No, that’s not a type-o. That is an “s” you see before you. Musicals. Stage, screen… wherever there are folks spontaneously breaking out into song to lament a love lost, a home found, and everything in between, you’ll find me. Laughing, crying, whatever. I’m in.

Until last night, that is. When I sat through the train wreck known as “We Will Rock You”. Rock me? Hardly. This show was a crime scene. A sickening accident that, despite being destructive and brutal, one feels compelled to watch. Hideous, gory and loud loud loud. A concert gone awry, a story gone south and some creators gone bonkers.

My pal and I sat, mouths agape, wondering if what we were watching was for real. Who was the demo? Youngsters? Nostalgists? This hokey farce of a show appealed to neither. Suburbanites on a big night out? Is that who those freaks were with the glo-stix? There were plenty of ’em, whoopin’ and screamin’ and jumping to their feet. While my theatre directing pal and I, as I said, sat stunned.

First off: volume issues. Volume, as in wa-a-a-a-a-y too loud. How did the stage-diving fogies lapping this shit up stand it? Was it that loud that they didn’t even know what they were hearing? Maybe.

Secondly, performances. I know, I know, touring companies, right? Wrong. This was/is a big deal. And is continually extended. Mamma Mia, anybody? I guess Brian May and his pals are laughing their way to the bank on this one. And poor Freddie M must be rolling in his grave. At least make the campiness work!!

It didn’t. ‘Cuz it was earnie earnesto from beginning to end. Set in the future and – gasp! – all musical instruments are banned. Only one hero – swoon – The Dreamer, can set the kids free so they can rebel and play air guitar and find their soul.

Soul? Not in this show. Spunky heroine? Too nasal. “Show-stopping” diva? Bored off her socks. Baddie who turns good? Hey, he wasn’t bad! And our hero? Well, his voice was OK but he’s no triple threat. Can you say the word “wooden”? With feeling? Neither could he.

And the list goes on. Mediocre support characters? Earned screams of delight. Lame Britney Spears jokes? Had ’em rolling in the aisles. Breaking into “flash” as skeletons – wow! – flashed on screens? Gasps of approval.

Where the hell were we? Oh yeah, downtown Toronto, where the self-congratulatory Canadian references guaranteed a standing O. Or two. And they got ’em.

You’re probably wondering why didn’t leave. So was I. But, as I said, it was strangely compelling. Like an open casket. You’re totally uncomfortable, but you need to look.

So my fellow Musical-ists. And Queen fans. And subscribers to theatre packages. Go forth and be rocked if you must. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

And don’t forget to drink. A lot. Maybe that’s the secret to its success…

5 comments:

Anonymous said…

I personally love when you are negative!

4:22 PM

Anonymous said…

As the mentioned ‘pal’ in the piece, let me remind the dear MOAM readers that perhaps ALL is not lost. For every Mirvish fiasco, WWRY, LORD (Help Us) OF THE RINGS, there is an ELEGIES (produced by ACTING UPSTAGE, a company whose shows and pedigree deserve it audiences far beyond the teeny-tiny houses they play and fill, seek out A MAN OF NO IMPORTANCE later this season), there is an EVIL DEAD: THE MUSICAL (Meta– sure, but Meta done right), and dozens of other deserving LITTLE companies producing LITTLE shows that offer BIG bang for the buck. Check out the aspiring triple threats of the Randolph Young Company and the Toronto Youth Theatre and be assured that there is hope for the future of Toronto theatre. But not until the audience starts to be DISCERNING in its choices and in its immediate ‘rise to your feet’ mentality. Just because you paid 70, 80, 100 bucks for your ticket, doesn’t mean what you’re getting is necessarily good. What happened to EARNING a standing ‘o’? Keep your seats, Toronto theatre-goers, and let the big guns trotting ‘entertainment’ to our lauded-as-a-theatre-capital city know that we ain’t gonna stand for it!

4:33 PM

Not Afraid to Use It said…

I love me a good musical, but thank you for warning me about this one! I have limited time to see films bc of the kids. I will definitely bypass this one for the time being.

4:36 PM

Anonymous said…

you really captured the essence of this one, maven girl. but why you failed to mention the role of said hero’s french canadian accent, boggles my mind. a character in and of itself that deserves equal attack and glory.

9:56 AM

Mother of all Mavens said…

Aaaah le Canadian Francais. Yes, I did forget that. Or maybe I blocked it out. needless to say the accent got stronger as the play draaaaaaaagged on. Go figure. Apparently he doesn’t speak any Anglaisy, just learned the words he needed. Can you tell?!

September 20, 2007   No Comments

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Simon Says

Idol Fever. It’s back. And it’s bad.

In a good way.

Auditions are over, so all the saps out there don’t have to worry about Simon being too “mean”. Waah waah, cry me a river. If some sad soul is that desperate to get on tv -and honestly, how else can you explain some of these deluded freak shows – then you’re fair game for Simon’s wrath. Afterall, that’s why they pay him the big bucks right? And that’s why we all tune in.

Hollywood week? Done. Cloying and cheesy to be sure as they group together and doo-wop their hearts out. But it’s only a 2-day affair (for us). And it’s kinda funny to watch them freak out. And they whittle ’em down so fast it keeps you (me) glued. Good tv.

But that’s all the preamble. The real fun starts now: The Top 24. 12 boys, 12 girls. Let the voting begin. My fellow idolheads and I have already discussed our faves. Not an easy task when half these cats are utterly unmemorable – but I suppose someone’s gotta be the first to go, right?

My personal faves? Well, since you asked…

The Backups. I like the Minnie-Mouse girl backup. But I love the Hot Boy backup even more: gorgeous voice, gorgeous face – one to watch in every sense of the word.

The Innocent. You know, the one whose sister didn’t make it? The Michael Jackson/Young Mick Jagger combo? Once he gets a smidgen of confidence, I think he’ll really shine. Let’s hope he’s the young girl/granny choice this season, and not some annoying boy-band wannabe. Chicken Little anyone? Or tracheotomy guy? I shudder thinking about them. Go Sanjaya, go!

The Mean Girl who isn’t. Annamaria? Anastasia? Antonella! She’s The Hot Chick of the group and it seems folks thinks she’s nasty. She’s not. Yet. Her friend was, but she’s been booted. Justice. Get ready for her makeover….re-ow.

The Justin Timberlake Guy. Where’d he come from? No one really knows. But he’s JT’s doppelganger. Voice, moves, ‘do…Question is: will that help or hinder?

Lakisha. The single mom with the crazy pipes. Even the judges got a little welly over her. I love her. Love her!!! Hell, who doesn’t?

Curly Sue. How long will it take her tresses to be ironed? I’m guessing within 2 weeks. She’s quite appealing, with a great voice….but a face for radio. Could be a problem for her.

Jack Osborne Guy. The funny guy. With the funny hair. And a very serious voice. Awesome.

The Guy Who Missed His Daughter’s Birth. Hat’s off to him. No, really, hat’s off. I quite like his voice and think he’ll grow on us as the season goes. If he ditches his toque. If he’s, ahem, receeding, then shave ‘er down and face the music. Just lose the lid.

Sundance Head. With a name like that, who needs another? A bit of a Lucifer look-alike, he’s the booming voice of the gang.

Crying Blond. She’s cute. She’s keen. She cries. America willl love her.

And the best of the rest?

Hmmm. There are some terrific singers whose faces escape me. And a couple of what-were-they-thinkings. And that incredibly annoying chick with the red streak in her hair. And the guy who wipes his eyebrows and calls it dancing. Oh – and the Beat Box guy!!! I forgot about the beat box guy. How cool is he? But can he sing?

I can barely sit still as I await next week’s show. Or make that shows. This ratings juggernaut will be on every Tuesday, Wednesday AND Thursday for the next few weeks. If the sheer entertainment vaue wasn’t reason enough to tune in, surely the broadcast schedule is. AI is taking over, so why hold out?

Play your pools, and place your bets. All aboard. The Idol train is leaving the station. Will you be on it? Will you have any other choice??

February 15, 2007   No Comments

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Coming Soon to a Theatre Near You

Did everyone watch Oprah today?

No, wait…I mean, did everyone PVR Oprah today?

YOU DIDN’T?!?!?

Oh, poor souls, you missed out. You really did.

Disclaimer: I am not, by nature a daytime TV person. Never have been. When the sun goes down, that’s a different story – the remote comes out. But I have too many guilt issues with daytime telly – unless I am severely under the weather or there’s some hideous ambulance-chasing newsflash I can’t turn away from. Reruns of sitcoms, maybe Ellen, OK. But Oprah? Very, very, rarely. I did watch the cast of Friends goodbye show, but that’s about it.

See, when it comes to Ms Winfrey, I’m not a fan. In fact, she kinda bugs me. I kinda liked Fat Oprah. And Sophia-from-The-Color-Purple-Oprah. And I can appreciate and barely stomach Do-Gooder-Friend-of-Nelson-Mandela-Oprah. But thin-, marathoned-, and star-f&cking Oprah? Not for me. Too condescending. Too Benevolent Ruler of Minivan Moms in audience. Too earnest. Too annoying.

BUT I put it all aside for today. I got over my aversion to Oprah and to daytime TV for today. I really let myself go to the edge of the couch for today….For today was DREAMGIRLS day.

Yes, it’s true. DREAMGIRLS has arrived. Ish. More specifically, it’ll arrive at your local theatre on Christmas day. The lucky ones in LA and NYC will, as always, get it sooner, as will a handful of other selected spots (please please please let Toronto be one of them) (I know, it probably won’t) (if you don’t ask, you don’t get) (why am I having a paranthetical conversation with myself) (because I can)…

My Euro friends, you probably don’t even know what DREAMGIRLS is, let alone when it’s coming. So you can just read along, safe in the knowledge that a damn fine show has been turned into a supposedly damn fine film and that you can – and should – book your tix AND your seats in advance.

So there they were: Beyonce, James Foxx, Anika-something-or-other, Ed Murphy and my fave, Jennifer Hudson. Her god-fearing (and spouting) ways aside, I love her. And so did the audience. She got a longer standing O than the Mighty Murphy. More whoops than the other folks combined. Rightfully so, folks, rightfully so.

For the eight of you people who didn’t watch American Idol a couple of season back, she was one of the 3 divas. Fantasia, someotherchick, and Ms Hudson. She sang the Dreamgirls’ showstopper (do I have to spell out everything? “I am Telling You I’m Not Going”). She was the first of the best to be booted, but baby, look at her now! Word on the street (and on the web) is she’s the one to watch. As it should be. She was Effie on Idol and she’s Effie now. Jennifer Hudson? The new Jennifer Holliday.

Beyonce (and, parents, it’s pronounced Bee-yon-say, not Bee-Yawns) was, as always, a real lady. Babydoll Pajama dress aside, she was poised, stunning, and modest. A glamorama movie star ’til the end – complete with costume change. And, yes, she sang. She sang the one song that didn’t come from the original soundtrack. Y’know, the Disneyfied, lyrically-on-the-nose, lame song: the Oscar song. B’s pipes were so outstanding that she actually gave some life to a truly lame tune. Now that’s star power.

There was the other chick, the Tony award winner whose name escapes me. She plays Lorell. The one no one really gives a shit about. But she gets a solo, and a paycheck and gets to be on Oprah, so let’s not pity her.

Moving on.

Jamie Foxx. Talented? Yes. Hot? Yes. Somewhat runty? Kind of. He described himself as shiny. That says it all. Shiny good and shiny bad. And then they played some clips of him as Curtis. Clips he was proud of. Clips in which he sang all his own songs. May I remind you that he did no such thing in Ray. And maybe that’s good thing. ‘Cuz I’ve got two words for you: Weak Link. Yes, yes, yes, I’m sure his performance will be stellar. But a balladeer he ain’t.

Now, was it me, or did Funny Murphy seem kinda sad? Cliche, I know, the sad clown and all, but he did. He seemed out of sorts and kind of down. Maybe Eddie finds Oprah annoying too. Or maybe he’s just whipped by Scary Spice. Whatev – the few sound clips of him as James Thunder Early? Erm….smoking!

I first saw Dreamgirls when I’d pulled my braces off at sleepover camp so I could go home and call a boy I liked. I was that kind of girl. His number turned out to be unlisted (loo-hoo-ser), but I got to go and see Dreamgirls. And then I saw it again on Broadway. I’ve had my mother quoting it to me for years. I’ve sung every breath of every song in countless car rides. I’ve participated in (and nearly wrecked) an amateur production of the thing. I’ve cast the movie in my head and – I don’t mind bragging – pegged Beyonce and Jenny Hudson long before the producers even did. I even watched The Oprah Earnest Show to get a glimpse of the Dreamgirls Dreamteam. Along with a handful of other diehards, I’ve been waiting for this moment for 25 bloody years, so please, forgive my excitement.

And now, I pass that excitement on to you, loyal readers. Let the countdown begin:
One month, five days…

4 comments:

Anonymous said…

This is the greATEST… I CANT WAIT .. SO I CAN SING ALONG.. IT WAS VERY EMOTIONAL FOR ME I LOVED LOVED IT .. YOUR BLOG OF COURSE

1:13 AM

Anonymous said…

“When I first saw you… I said “oh my, that’s my dream”. Not only is DREAMGIRLS THE SEMINAL 80S MUSICAL (ok– name another one, c’mon… just as I thought) and Michael Bennett’s last (notable) hurrah– it would be really easy to mess the movie up. (‘Rent’ anyone?) This is the same guy who directed ‘Gods & Monsters’ & ‘Kinsey’. Fine films, yes, but paced like the tortoise from the age-old fable. DREAMGIRLS is the definitely the Hare. In any case, it looks like they did the right thing– the movie looks stunning– and not just from a theatre-geeky, broadway-only p.o.v. I’ve been casting Dreamgirls in my head for years and while I would’ve liked to have seen it made when La Holliday was still young enough to play Effie onscreen (again, ‘Rent” anyone?), Ms. Hudson certainly fills those shoes. But I really think this film was waiting for the ascent of Ms. Knowles. She IS Deena. (And Deena, it’s only the beginning!) And hello, no slighting Lorrell (who loves Jimmy, it’s true…)– Anika’s got the most chops of the three, and for a theatre chick she even looked stylish. Besides, they had to get a bargain on someone to pay for Foxx & Murphy. By the way, Eddie Murphy, get your Oscar speech ready. I called it when they announced the casting and I’m sticking by it. Beyonce, you may have to wait your turn when they call Ms. Mirren to the podium. But everyone in the room will know who’s really the Queen! Lastly– who knew all it took was writing a letter to Oprah to get tix to the L.A. premiere. That D’Shawn guy was the highlight of the show– ultimate Dreamgirls fan, though? I, and perhaps MOAM, beg to differ!

9:17 AM

Anonymous said…

By the way, that some other chick on Idol was your pick to my Fantasia!!! How soon we forget. And Jamie Foxx did his own singing in Ray. Also as Ray in Kanye West’s Goldigger. (note to Other comment – Gods & Monsters is paced perfectly and gay enough to prove he could direct Dreamgirls! No pacing aside please.) Lorrell does love Jimmie and even though “Lorrell and Jimmie are through” – who does give a shit about Lorrell. I’m with the MOAM on that one. Can’t wait for Murphy to be getting in the “Hot tub!” He will finally make up for “My girl wants to party all the time.” I have loved him forever and think he is brilliant!

November 21, 2006   No Comments

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Another Rock Report

What the what is ladylike?

It’s Ms Susie Large’s exit…

Sadly, Dilana…she’s not a goner…Just wishful thinking on my part. Instead, the Troll remains while Stormy goes home. I for one am saddened and disappointed by the expulsion of my crusher girl. The clockwork orange hat crime aside, she made such a comeback! Or so we (I) thought. The Suffragette City/Orig combo? Don’t tell me she didn’t work the stage like a pro. And by pro, I mean Pro. Around-a-pole, pay-for-it Pro. But ’twas not to be. Even Touchy-Feely Newsted’s tears couldn’t save her, so she’s gone to sleep in her own bed.

Personally, I think she should be sharing it with a certain Mr. Navarro. Good chemistry, no? And a whole other reality show in the making. Bye bye Stormy, so sad to see you go.

So who’s it gonna be? Will it be Magni? Dependable, boring, stif-on-stage Magni? Doubt it.

Dilana? Noooooo. How they gave her a standing O last night is beyond me. Yes she got the crowd all riled up, but at one point I wasn’t sure if she was standing or sitting, and that just ain’t right. And it’s not front (wo)man material either. Then again, what do I know? I doubt I’d be a Supernova fan anyway.

I am however, a fan of Lukas. Yep, a full-fledged member of the Rossi Possy. But dontcha think he’s better suited on Rockstar: Radionhead? The guy’s too intense for this group. And if he does win, I think JayJay New(age)sted might find himself too distracted and involved in the analysis of Lucky Lou….

One more thing. A stolen observation. Celeb reference of the day: Rockstar Supernova’s Lukas Rossi…and Ron Howard’s creepy character actor brother.

And then there’s the frontrunner. The fun guy. The guy’s guy. The guy who, according to one TV critic, makes the blond girls scream. To me he’s just a fun-lovin’, beer-drinkin’ mimic. Evs indeed. But to the boys in the band he’s a superstar:

To-oh-oh-oh-oh-by.

But hold off placing your bets. Remember The Survivor Curse? Y’know, on Mark Burnett’s other reality show the cat who wins the car never, ever, ever wins the big prize. So I hope for Toby’s sake that this ain’t the case. Especially that car. A Honda Element? That’s a rockstar car? A student rockstar maybe.

It’s the final countdown. Na na na na and all that. And when our rockin’ prince(ss) is crowned we’ll have to make some important decisions. To buy or not to buy tix for the Snoozernova tour, whether the added bonus of the House Band and Shirtless Dave opening makes it all worhtwhile, and of course, the biggest question of all: what to watch now?

6 comments:

Anonymous said…

What to watch now??? Puh-leeze. We’re in the new golden age of television. Not that the new season has really dawned yet, with its various House/Lost/24 rip-offs, but there is hope on the horizon for WRITTEN television. But c’mon, once the Supernova burns as it crashes into the earth’s atmosphere you know you’ll be watching… “You’re The One That We Want”!!! The new talent search for the Broadway leads in Grease? You’re so there. And so am I, even though I’m an avowed non-viewer of reality/talent search TV. In the meantime, season 2 of WEEDS just started. Don’t bogart that remote!

10:49 AM

Anonymous said…

Oh Lawrence – it’s so easy to tell it’s you! What to watch – Nip/Tuck my dove on the 14th!!!!

Lukas does not look like Opie Cunningham’s bro whatsoever. My sister said Hawksley Workman – I agree. And Toby, well, he will win because he will pull for the boys and they’ll get his sloppy seconds. Although frat boy Toby seems to have some morals. On two separate occassions he has mentioned that the girls were way to young for him. Can it last when he is travelling with a band with the collective IQ of 70? I think he may be pulling a true rock star and screwing a 14 year old in about 5 months. Then we will know he has arrived.

1:36 PM

Anonymous said…

Chad

4:15 PM

Anonymous said…

Chad

4:15 PM

Anonymous said…

Nip/Tuck… I must protest. It’s the Jerry Maguire of television– successful men of a certain age whining about the mess they’ve made of their lives: weej weej sweetie darling. The big question on Nip/Tuck should be how Michael Jackson has flown under the radar for so long playing the son. I’m not buying it. By the way, who’s this Lawrence guy you speak of?

12:08 PM

Mother of all Mavens said…

OK. To address the comments. I meant what to watch as we’re spoilt for choice. Tho’ it always SEEMS that way in Sept. Lawrence is a tv guru. Nip/Talk begins Sept 23rd in Canada. The son is completely Wacko Jacko. ANd obviously, “anonymous” doesn’t appreciate that there aren’t merely whingey grown ups. It’s Christian. And the other guy.

September 6, 2006   No Comments

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The Rock Report

The heady days of summer are winding down. And with them the dreaded summer TV shows. Summer TV is Dead! Long live Summer TV! Entourage may be done, but Rockstar Supernova is alive and kicking! For a couple more weeks anyway.

That’s right readers, you’ve begged, you’ve pleaded, you’ve given me ideas I can use as my own… So now, with a mere 5 rockers left, I present you with: The Rock Report.

WAIT!!

Before I go there, I gotta know: is anybody under 50 watching Celebrity Duets? Aside from me? What?! It’s summer TV. It’s cheesy TV. It’s face-lift central. And it’s completely hilarious. In a B/C-list kinda way. Marie Osmond’s a judge! And she told someone he was too white! Little Richard’s a judge tooo! And he told someone she was so good that, and I quote, “My big toe just went through my boot”. And Cheech is on it. And Kenny Loggins will be appearing. What more do you need?

OK back to the rockers. Look, for better or worse, it’s no Idol. But I’m completely addicted. Confession: I didn’t tune into last year’s INXS version. I wanted to, swear! But my Man banned all reality shows from our summer schedule and I complied. Meanwhile, he secretly tuned in and loved it. So this year, after much cajolling from my fellow TV hounds ‘n whores, I jumped on the bandwagon. And I’m in in in!

And now that Art School Confidential is no longer a dark horse; now that he’s taken his faux-tense stare and gone back to NY with a less-than-gracious “see you on the charts” as his parting words; now that all that and the lame-ass, ain’t no-Roger-Daltry-mic-swinging has finally stopped; now,at last, we can concentrate on the final five.

Generous thanks must go out to my gal who has been a source of all things Supernova since the show began. Hucking me to watch, berating me for missing last year’s, and providing me with ammo, lingo, and astute opinions.

Let’s start with Magni, the white Will Smith. What? You don’t see it? Look again. Strange cross-cultural refs aside, here’s what you need to know about Magni: he’s the solid guy. The nice guy. The family man. Sure, he’s good. But he’s a bit of a bore, no? And can the boys in the band mold him into their own little walking, talking puppet?

….like Toby? Evs from Oz is a total keener. And, from the looks of it, relies on his mimicry to get by. And yet…the dudes LOVE him? Why why why? The laddish lout makes a big song and dance about being the go-to-party-card. Is this a good thing? Or will it blow up in his face?

…Like Dilana’s cockyness? Personally, I see little difference betwen this very dirty girl (literally, dirty. Somebody wash her.) and those little trolls that go on top of pencils. The ones with the neon pink hair… That’s Dilana. A talent, to be sure. But such a screamer! So unappealing. And may I steal a certain someone’s twist on T.Lee’s words? ‘Cuz I’m going to: Dilana, I don’t wanna!

…Storm’s another story altogether. I think I have a bit of a straight girl crush on her. OK, I know I do. She’s got the pipes, she’s got the looks, she’s got the moves. And she’s so so so not right for them. But I love her. So she should live and be well and make it ’til the end. Even tho’ I know she won’t.

…Unlike Lukas! Yep, our local boy is really the bomb. Talk about stage presence. The boy can blow (not that way dirtbags) and he’s pretty incredible. But after watching him with the band last night, I gotta say, I think he’s too good for them. I do! So I kinda hope he’s there til the end so we can watch him strut his stuff, but that he doesn’t win, if for no other reason than this: he can do better.

I know, I know, they’re the big shot rockstars. Whatever. He’s a kid. Untapped. Rarin’ to go. And the Supernova Sound…is it just me, or is that the worst part of the elimination show? With a hey hey hey and a ho ho ho? Umm, yeah ok guys, reeeeeally scary intense rock there. Whatev.

It’s not too late to hop on board and tune in. Really, if you haven’t already, you should. Not just to see Tommy Lee being an ass. Not just to hear Jason Newstead pay forward his own therapy sessions. Not just to realize that Gilby Clark, whoever the hell he is, looks like Val Kilmer and that, with some strategic scrubbing, he might be kind of attractive. And not just to see for yourself if I’m right in saying that Dave Navarro looks like Prince. No, you should tune in because Rockstar Supernova, well, rocks.

And it’s on thrice weekly.

Yep, Mondays at the Manse. Tuesdays they perform. And Wednesday’s child goes home.

Look, the fall lineup is still a few more weeks away, so why the hell not?

3 comments:

Anonymous said…

Noty just because I am the friend withthe shout out – but this is my favourit motha’ of all!!! I was howling as was my Rockstar husband. Good point about Lukas – now if he could just get his own band and have Zayra open! Dream come true!

10:26 PM

mike said…

U R one funny broad.

9:29 AM

Anonymous said…

Gilby was a Guns ‘n Roses Guitarist. And Supernova are incredible. Whoever they pick will rock the house down.

August 31, 2006   No Comments

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We’ll Always Have Paris. Or Whoever…

And then there were four.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wake me when it’s over.

Is it just me, or is American Idol’s result show getting more boring? Last week, as y’all know, I missed it due to technical difficulties. Turns out I was even luckier than I thought, ‘cuz last night was a yawn-fest. A bore. A drag. It was American Midol – a real pain, may cause drowsiness.

I’ll admit it: I find the faux-mercial amusing. I do. But the group-hug gospel song? Ernie Earnesto, you’ve gone too far! I’d much prefer aging rockers and middle aged balladeers any day of the week. OK, not any day, but for sure on Wednesdays.

My theory goes something like this: when the duds get dumped, the show gets dull. Think about it. We tune in to make sure the good ones don’t get away. Without at least one lame-o to root against, the show’s a snooze. Remember the “3 divas” from two seasons ago? Each one more spectacular than the next? Two get booted and the country’s in an uproar. The third and most talented is left with a redheaded crooner from hell, a sap with a flower in her hair and a couple of forgettables. “Racists!” charged Sir Elton. “Loser American voters” said I. We sat at the edge of our seats as the competition got too close for comfort. Vindication and relief came when Fantasia won.

Last year, it was the opposite – one talent amid a sea of mediocrity. But it still made for good TV. That is until Constantine got ousted and, horror of horrors, we were stuck with a little bit country and a little bit rock ‘n roll. And Fat Felon Scott. Suddenly the show, well, sucked. Without Connie making love to the camera, there was no one left to root for. Sure, we still had Simon Says, but mostly we tuned in because we’d already committed. More might-see than must-see TV.

This year is a little different in that the remaining contestants are all good. And that’s what’s making the show, well, less good. There’s no one left to really hate – so no outrage when a lesser talent wins out. The anti-idol website votefortheworst.com is now backing Taylor. Yeah, I checked. I actually like the Silver Fox. Sure, he’s a bit of a dad, maybe George Clooney’s dad, but his Ray Charles-isms and chunky dancing crack me up. If he beats out a more talented Chris, who cares?

Ditto Elliott the underdog. He’s always had my vote, though I’m kinda surprised he’s still kicking around. Call it the pity vote. Despite that Stevie Wondery voice of his, he’s far more radio than TV. Growing his hair has helped, but he’s got a ways to go. I even discussed it with my oral hygienist and she agreed: the guy’s a dental surgeon’s wet dream. Now that he’s famous now, the dream’ll come true. (American Dental anyone?)

I’m betting on Rockin’ Chris and Pipes McPheever for the final two. Sure, her Sally Field “you really like me” smile is getting tired, and he’s as serious as a heart attack, but they’re young, hot and talented. No outrage, scandals, or secret criminal pasts. Just clean family fun.

And the talk round the water cooler? It won’t be about American Idol. All we’ll be left with is one burning question: when is Nip/Tuck coming back? Now that’s entertainment worth talking about!

2 comments:

Anonymous said…

they are getting better everyday.. what a writer. keep it up

10:29 PM

megan said…

I say off with Taylor. At first I was interested and amused but now I’m just irritated. I agree with Simon – drunk dad dancing at a wedding. It’s starting to be a bit cringey (sometimes I have to avert my eyes when he’s performing) and his voice seems to be getting more mediocre by the week. And although I think Paris has a great voice and the most potential (her Billy Holiday is top notch) she was starting to lame out a bit too. I’m sad to think that Elliott is the next to go but I think it’s true. At first I liked him because he was the underdog but now I just like him. Despite his dental challenges, he’s so likeable and he’s got a great voice.

To be honest, although I agree they’re all generally “good”, the reason I’m getting bored is because they’re all starting to kind of suck on a regular basis. Other than his Bryan Adams ballad, for all intents and purposes Chris sings the same song week after week in the exact same way. Kat is hot but picks the worst songs and has started doing the hard to stomach belt it out from the first to last note approach, a la Celine. Ugh.

So up with Elliott! But Lord knows I’ll watch it to the bitter, painful 3 hour end regardless of when he gets booted.

July 27, 2006   No Comments

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The Finale

Everybody’s talkin’ about the young Mr. Hicks. The Grey Goose. The Silver Fox. The harmonica-totin’ whiskey tenor who kicked some serious Idol butt last night! What more can I say? Soul patrol rocked the house down. Or is that a contradiction in terms? Whatever. He did. His new force-fed single aside, the guy’s the bomb. Some people I know thought he was mentally challenged. But for real. I say all part of his charm, people, all part of his charm.

I think American Idol is the new Miss America – it’s just all the talent competition. Or maybe it’s Oscar Night. But less boring. Think about it: in Hollywoood, at the Kodak Theatre. Broadcast to 200 million people world-wide. It has the glitz, the glamour, the cheesy host with the cheesier jokes. Last night’s show even had the statues – or were they statuettes? Swap the songs for speeches and waddaya get? The Academy Awards. Guest stars, skits ‘n sketches, even a red carpet – Oscars. Minus the death montage. I wish they’d do a where-are-they-now segment. That’s a death montage in itself. Kind of.

Since pretty much anybody who’s anybody watched the damn thing (and if you didn’t, shame on you!) let’s just recap some of the finer moments, shall we?

Who could forget the quick shot of David Hasselhoff in the audience? Crying. Yup. Real tears. Runnin’ down his face…

Who can understand why they bothered giving those who already had their 15 minutes (or 15 seconds) of fame another shot? That freakazoid dancing guy? He scared me. That weird Clay Aiken guy? He scared me too. Pick a better idol friend. That Mr “I-swear-I’m-straight” Aiken? He scared me the most.

And what’s with Meatloaf’s aversion to touching? Didja notice? The red hankie thing? I kept waiting for him to wave it or throw it or wipe his brow with it. Or something. But he used it to touch McPheever. He held her hand, whilst holding the hankie. Was he afraid of picking up some germ? From her? Other way around, dirty boy, other way around.

I loved Elliott, as always. And his mother. And his duet with Mary J. Sure he lost his newfound confidence real quick. But that’s part of his charm. God bless him.

And Paris. Held her own with Al Jarreau.

Toni Braxton. Toni, Toni, Toni. I think she and Paula got together and shared a little tipple or popped a little somethin’ before the show.

I thought Chris and his twin from Live were kinda funny – funny, strange, not funny haha.

Does anybody remember the husky-voiced, dead-eyed girl? She was one of the first to go. What on earth was her name? I felt kinda badly for her.

Mandisa, Mandisa, Mandisa. Red and white. Not great colours for couches.

Burt Bacharach and Dione Warwick. What more can I say. There was something for EVERYONE.

And finally…PRINCE!! Now the show’s really got cred. And no intro or nothin’. My take is that they weren’t sure whether or not he’d show up. They probably had the finalists prepare a little fare-thee-well duet just in case. Thank god he showed. ‘Cuz he was HOT.

As you can tell, I don’t have much to write about today. Idol. It was on. It was hokey. It was sappy. It was long. And I loved it. And my PVR worked so I could fast-forward the commercials. So I really loved it. The phonelines and computers were buzzing today, friends. Yes, everybody called it: Taylor all the way. It looks to me like the bandwagon is jam-packed. Too bad show’s over. For now.

So you think you can dance? It starts tonight….

5 comments:

Anonymous said…

Long live the death montage! And since when did venerable songwriter Burt become a casino gaming table? Bachrach, MOAM, not Baccarat.

5:44 PM

Anonymous said…

there’s no bandwagon sister! I don’t even watch the show and I called it during auditions. Called Fantasia too – but who didn’t? Oh yah – you!!! Also, I turned for a second during a Lost commercial (we were too anxious to wait for the PVR) what is up with his dancing? I had no idea when I picked him that he couldn’t dance. And by the way, why was I not told Prince was on???!!!!!

5:53 PM

Mother of all Mavens said…

bachrach, bacharach, so many spellings…I even checked. Whatev LA, you know who I mean… I never put Baccarat!!!

6:09 PM

Anonymous said…

Wow, I look forward to everyday to read your BLOGS, keeep it up

9:06 PM

Anonymous said…

Clay Aiken is a frieky bitch. And that hair! Yea those two freiks was crazy, mang… the dancing one and the Clay Aiken wanna be. I felt my skin crawl with the Clay Aiken wanna be! He made me very nervous. Anyways… if we are really talking about the show having cred, etc… I would not have it ride so much on the fact that Prince was there, even though he is an enigma and perhaps the most ‘Popular’ of the bunch. He is an original in the sense that he morphed other people’s style into his own unique style, to make his own unique style… but he owes way too much to Clinton and Sly.

I think that the real cred belongs to Burt Bacharach, actually. And I wish more younger folks truly understood the importance of this songwriter. He does not write music for lounge singers and for people of a much older and conservative generation. His music and lyrics are timeless. Just put on some of his classic music song by Dion and close your eyes. His shit is as important as the Beatles, Dylan & Stevie… easily. His art transcends time and genre. He is just great, end of story! But it gets lost on the younger folks who just don’t get it. And I am not a younger folk but I do get it. It’s a shame.

Later.

May 25, 2006   No Comments

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Idol Shaves Chris

I didn’t make up the title. E news did. But I thought it was funny, so I nabbed it. Whatever. Did you see his face? Did you? Shock and awe, people. Shock and awe.

Unless you’re living in another galaxy, you’ll know I mean Chris. American Idol Chris. Who else?

Poor guy. I don’t know who was most surprised – the judges, Kitty, or the Bald One himself. Total devastation. Now that is good tv. With nary a dry eye, we said bye bye to Mr Daughtry, the rock ‘n roller who was waaaay too alterna rock for AI in the first place. And yet, we liked him, we really liked him. A lot. Rod, Queen, Andrea B., Mr Mottola – everyone, as they say, had it goin’ on for Chris. Baz Manilow maybe not so much, but our Chrissy was still favourite-to-the-stars, no doubt about it. Even the on-line gambling sites were backing the Bald Eagle. Now, however, the eagle has landed, on his ass, and all bets are off.

I’m secretly pleased. You see, as good as Chris is – I mean, was – he was getting kinda tired. The knee-stomping vibrato was starting to grate. I wanted something new and different from him. He needed to mix it up a little, maybe have some fun with facial hair and reshape the ‘burns. Or ditch the fob watch chain. Or even try some lifts (he’s a bit of a pune I think). But it’s all too little, too late, mate. And now we’re stuck with McPuke.

Yep, another week to suffer from McPheever. Sure she’s talented. And easy on the eyes. And the camera clearly loves her. And, let’s face it, she’s bringing in the male viewers. But what does any of that mean when she wears a belly-baring, belted, combo on national television?! Maybe the stylists should be voted off the show. Between Kat’s linebacker looks and Paris’ stewardess chic, we’re not looking at any new trends here. But back to Katherine. Outfits aside, the woman’s become a train wreck. Last week she’s kneeling on the floor, this week she’s a one-woman dance-off, something’s gotta give. She’s actually getting worse with each performance. She better pick one helluva torch with which to light up the stage next week or else she’ll end up with the rest of the sisters: gone. Or…

…we’ll end up with an Elliott – Taylor finale! Grey-haired-guy and Bad-teeth-guy, duking it outfor the title. What could be better?

(insert annoying randyspeak barking here)

Bring on the underdogs!

8 comments:

Anonymous said…

Libby Gelman eat your heart out! This is classic bitchy queen stuff. You ARE every woman!

12:37 PM

Anonymous said…

I never did like that Chris, dude! The vibrabor thingy in his voice was ng – no good. It was always there and it vibrated at too frequent of a rate. I have to say that America on the whole has surprised me in that they have not voted Elliot off yet. I thought for sure he was going down the drain early on, simply because of his funny looks. America is so obsessed with looks that I thought that he was a goner for sure. Interesting!

1:14 PM

Anonymous said…

You don’t have to post this critique but I do think that you use the word Combo too much. As a writer you should try to mix it up. Examples are ‘Combo Platter’ and ‘belly-baring, belted, combo’, etc, etc. Also what is with ‘Y’ll’. I thought that only if you live in Virginia or south and east of the Mississippi do folks use Y’ll. What does Y’ll mean… all of us?

May 11, 2006   No Comments

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I Want My PVR

Yesterday was Wednesday, which can only mean one thing: Today, there is one less contender for the title of American Idol.

This week’s result show promised to be a goodie – someone would get the boot and we’d be down to the top 5. TOP 5! That’s huge! I know the results show isn’t nearly as exciting as its Tuesday night cousin but still, it’s the one with the definitive ending. Only one small problem. I missed it.

Instead of tuning in, I channel surfed, wandered into my kitchen, did a sudoku – anything but watch the show live. I had every reason to be cocky. I had PVR. I could watch it anytime. Commercial-free. Right?

WRONG!

I was betrayed. My trusty PVR (that’s Personal Video Recorder for those who are still in the dark ages) cheated on me. Left me high and dry. I admit, I tried to change it. Instead of sticking with the ever- faithful “record on this channel any day any time” I decided to play around and customize the times. And I got screwed. And not just out of any old show – out of American Idol.

I know I shouldn’t complain. Getting a life aside, I should be thankful it wasn’t Monday night’s 24/Prison Break combo platter. In the golden olden days I would’ve positively lost it had my PVR skipped Arrested Development. Maybe we shouldn’t go there, actually. It did (miss it) and I did (lose it).

I blame my husband. I blame him for a lot of things, but in this case it really was his fault. Every week we PVR Idol. We PVR everything, but it’s especially good for reality shows, where the commercials come fast and furious. For some reason AI always ends a minute or two after the PVR has stopped recording. So this week, at my man’s suggestion, I set it to end 5 minutes later. We thought we were pretty damn clever. And I checked it. Twice. And the rest is history.

I ranted. I raved. I ran upstairs to check on-line. NOTHING WAS POSTED. Eventually, Newsweek.com came through and I found out what everybody else already knew: America voted (Canada isn’t allowed) and The Pickler was history. Finally! Sure, I felt for her. The whole daddy’s-in-prison-but-I’ve-got-my-grandpa thing tugged at my heart strings too, I’m not a rock. But this is prime time TV, not a telethon. So ta-ta, Kelly, it’s trailer- time. (and I don’t mean those cheesy faux-mercials)

Today, I’m much calmer and my PVR has been reprogrammed to avoid any future mishaps. Sure, I missed the show. But I also missed the whining lines and insipid swan song of The Pickler…..Thank you, PVR!

3 comments:

Anonymous said…

Oh. My. God.

The same thing happened to me, except it was The Sopranos, which is the only show more preciously PVRed for me than American Idol! Death to Rogers, I say, unless they iron out this wrinkle soon!

And what IS Paris doing in the bottom two anyway?

12:53 PM

pritza said…

The time change killed our PVR it went haywire. We reset everything – made sure all was kosher and then, as luck would have it, the PVR was possessed. Satan himself fucked with our Sopranos as well!We were so upset that we checked our other preprogrammed gamut of goodies only to find that the Beast took issue with our overzealous viewing. We have since reprogrammed but how’s a lady to feel secure?

peff said…

That’s why I just go the good old fashioned route–digital satellite television, which gets me about 400 odd channels. Even though there’s often nothing I want to watch, at least I feel secure when I sit down in front of the telly in the anticipation that something MUST be on. And when there isn’t, there’s always the infinite reruns of Location, Location, Location (UK real estate searching reality tv show), which I’m obsessed with as I do love my property porn.

April 27, 2006   No Comments

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