Last week: CI takes on an era containing Boy George, Vanilla Ice and Mr. T - frequently all at the same time - and loses.

This week...

MSN: *beep*

Me: What the...oh, no.

Melissa_4_Eva: Hi there! hehe

Me: Oh...hi. Nice to see you, er, diversifying...

Melissa_4_Eva: GRRRRLZ RULE!!!!!!!

Me: Check. Me, I'm still here in front of the computer, writing the recaps...y'know, deadline a-looming...loom loom loomity-loom...

Melissa_4_Eva: Wait! We have 2 ask yu sumthin. U no how last yr when they did big Band n we had this leik thing and u told us? And Kalan snaped his fingers? lol We wre leik SO TOTALLY inspired! So this yr wen we herd the theme we leik go and ask Grampa and he gave us sum CDs and we totally lstined to them ALL DAY!!! hehe.

Me: Well, that's just amazing. I'm really proud of you for being so open...

Melissa_4_Eva: Yea but only 1 prob...all the songs were leik, um...kinda stoopid. lol

Me: Uh-huh. Well, see, you have to realise that things were pretty depressing back then. Wars, pandemics, pantyhose shortages. It got so all the deep thinking types were busy pondering what difference it'd really make if we all just turned into cockroaches. So people were kind of anxious to forget all their cares and just have a good time...

Melissa_4_Eva: OK, yea like Pink, she nos how to totally PAR-TAY. hehe

Me:Ah...right., but seeing as how MTV hadn't been invented yet it was up to the songwriter to get creative, and the singer to fill in the personality. That's why it's such a perfect theme for Idol...

Melissa_4_Eva: Yea we no u said. but I mean there wuz this 1 tune bout leik Can U spare a Dime? And we were so leik, no offence, but whut does the guy think hez gonna do with a DIME?

Me: Feed his family for a week or so. And the other half he could put in the nickelodeon on Friday night.

Melissa_4_Eva:

Me: Primitive IPod.

Melissa_4_Eva: O...

Me: [sigh] Rex will be charming. And Melissa will look really really pretty.

Melissa_4_Eva: yay! lol

Ah well, folks, the expectations may be low but the Canadian Idol Orchestra showed up anyway, and from the sounds of it they're paying at least as much attention to Orrin Isaacs as they would to, say, Paul Schaeffer, so there's really not much reason to think we won't at least have a good...oh, crud.
We open on Benedict, inexplicably resplendent in white slacks and the kind of velvet smoking jacket most often worn by the pundits who sat around smoking pipes and opining that popular music was a blight on society. While I do appreciate the, uh, creativity, there, Benny-boy, I really don't think there's that much demand for an Idol Host Beanie Baby.

"The competition is heating up...and it becomes a harder job to keep your favourites around." Well, golly, Mr. Science, you think? Just once, I'd love to hear him say something like "The competition is heating up...before you can vote we've decided to throw in a skill-testing question. In advanced trigonometry. Oh, and they're all gonna perform under industrial tarps from here on in."

Anyway, enough with the rosy daydreams. Time to meet 'our very own Rat Pack'. Hmmmm...hugely self-satisfied, koo-koo accessories, glasses of mysterious 'pick-me-ups' being waved around onstage...yeah, y'know, there's not a single way to snark that comparison.

Costume party!...and, oh look, they got Jake to participate this year. Of course, this year it's increasingly obvious that if the question's phrased right they can get Jake to do a whole lot of things. "You're all wearing Disney suits next week, won't that be fun? No? Ah, well. Who will we get to fill that cranky attention-grabbing judge slot if Zack doesn't renew...hmmm..."

(...OK, infinitesimal pause while I appreciate to the full a sudden mental image of the Four Judicial Dwarfs. Jake as Doc, Zack as Grumpy, Sass as Sleepy, Farley as Happy...

Ahem. Right, now back to our regularly scheduled surrealism).

Anyway, Jake in the suit you last wore to the Godfather's wedding, what's more important on a Big Band night, style or substance? Well, Ben, people did have a lot of style back then...just like some of us here do today. And then, I swear, he pauses. Glances significantly at the other end of the desk. Basically holds up the whole entire show just in case the two people in Nunavut who haven't quite grasped the Zack-shirt gag yet want to send him fan mail...And oh, by the way, Ben, it's always about the substance. Yes indeed.

Farley bearing a strong resemblance to a fashion-forward Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, how does a live band add to the show? Sigh. TPTB, this little running State the Obvious With Flex segment is doing not a whole lot for anybody's delusions of adequacy re: overall Idol musical quality, here.
Everlastingly patient, however - after all, he does manage Gary Beals - Farley gamely plays along. "Yeah! You can't get that energy singing from a track!" Uh-huh. Tune in next week, when we have a riveting discussion about the importance of having an audience.

Sass who somehow took a wrong turn down memory lane and ended up in the Age of Aquarius wearing the décor from a cheap Chinese restaurant, what's unique about this era? Oh, the kids have to get their heads around songs that were written before they were born, get into the cultural milieu. She doesn't say where the actual unique part comes in there, but from the tilt to her head I'm guessing it goes something like "Last week, Rexy in a headband...this week in a suit..."

Zack in wide pinstripes and facial...something...I dunno, I don't recall mimes as part of the general Golden Age milieu, but apparently I was wrong...what are you expecting to see tonight? Aww, Ben, let's just forget about the gimmicks, the shirts, and just concentrate on the great Canadian music we're going to hear. Bad news, Werner, that's not Guy Lombardo back there. Also, I think you may be not so much disavowing your shirt fetish as channelling it to your face.

Standard Spot-the-Celebrity montage as Ben VO's all about how early jazz and swing musicians experimented with Broadway classics and hey presto, 'popular music'. Viewer alert: if you plan on watching this with a parental unit this would be a very bad time to start with the 'Yes, the long proud tradition that gave us Clay Aiken...' gags. The aftermath is all kinda fuzzy now, but somewhere in there I was forced to swear undying fealty to Edie Gorme.

Finally, time to meet the people the ESL writers have never actually met, because they were running behind deadline and TPTB locked them in a small room with the collected works of Leonard Maltin...

Rex 'makes us Dizzy with Gillespie' - OK, now they're just openly mocking us - and in brown pinstripes and (oh, brother) an oversize white fedora is also looking extremely authentic...assuming the Mafia to be based in Burlington NL. Which I'm pretty sure it isn't, really, so could you please put those screech bottles down now? Thank you.
Casey has 'Bette Davis eyes'...and since she looks way more like Anne Baxter I'm hoping this is the writers' clever way of confirming certain backstage rumours. Then again, that would require the writers to be invested in something other than Chee-tos at the time, so nevermind. Meanwhile...so all is forgiven in L'Oreal World, huh? Gotta give the girl her props - wearing a slinky black dress is an absolute art form. Which she's a long way from mastering, but that's not obvious just yet.

Shot of guy proudly waving NB flag in the audience. If Idol were capable of meta-irony...well, I'd still be howling, but at least it'd be in glee.

So I've spent an entire week anticipating Darryl 'Grandmaster of the Gramophone' Brunt - whoa boy, we got yet another Whole Weird Area entering stage right, Cap'n! - anyway, I was totally counting on Jacob's Capone-does-Vegas getup from last year, all shiny suspenders and cute poofy satin bowtie that would've single-handedly won him the title, and instead I get his dad's white dress shirt and tie untucked under a black v-neck sweater. If the Archie comics had slackers. Apparently his psyche read the press releases from last week and has run back into the closet, slammed the door and is now curled up in a ball in the corner, whimpering.
Josh is a 'tommy-gun of talent'...and since the white suit, beanpole frame and unexpectedly please-love-me? face strongly suggest he's being played by Anthony Perkins this night, I'm a trifle worried overall.

Suzi's the 'Black Magic Woman'...hey, no argument here. Actually from a Depression-era perspective the hair and tattoos (not to say the eyebrows) would've strongly suggested a space alien, sent to study this whole hoochie-cooching phenomenon, who got a bit too heavy into the research last night and stumbled out of her spaceship wearing the boots but missing the dress. May I be the first to suggest this as the cover concept for her next CD?

Melissa 'really is all that jazz'? Uh, no. Girl was basically born to be plastered all over 50's drugstore calendars...except the milkmaid getup in this case needs quite a bit more lacing, if you get my drift. I am however in total lurve with the hair thingee, even if it does appear to have been fashioned out of part of my aunt's 'decorator' wall clock. You ever check out some of the contraptions they had holding up the permanents back in the day?

Aaron is the 'big man with the big-band voice', since at that point everybody was pretty much wiped debating the true meaning of 'Gillespie'. As my colleague pointed out he's clearly going for the loveable goofy sidekick role in a shiny, slightly-ill-fitting suit and comic-strip-tiny fedora. At least I hope that's what he's going for. Knowing Aaron he's quite possibly out there imagining himself as just the suavest, baddest hombre this side of Johnny Rocco, and we're all officially doomed.

OK, guys and dolls, bums and broads, chicks and Charlies...uh, anyway...let's get this show on the road!

Suzi, Minnie the Moocher. Heh. I'm guessing The Bandmembers had a hand in picking this one out. Her period audience would understand this performance, all right. In fact they'd be Pogo-esquely whistling an' stomping their personal feets...primarily because they'd be a bunch of lowlifes in a wrong-side-of-the-tracks speakeasy.
The good news is, of course, that makes this about the finest Standards performance possible for a rocker chick. In the morning (or if you're recapping at home, after about the third replay) nobody is going to respect the bellowing, as opposed to belting, vocal, or the graceless stylings. But she gets away with all of it in the moment - even transcends those damn boots - because the sheer entertainment value, the instinct to give the audience everything it wants (including the fedora, nice touch) and suggest a few things it might want to imagine, is running more raw and vibrant here than in any of her rock performances to date. In fact, she might regret it in the end, 'cause it's gonna be awful tricky to get away with the AvrilLite poses from here on in.

-Hey, Suzi's suddenly got her hat back. Did they actually stop the show and retrieve it? Seems kinda petty. Maybe it's a family heirloom.

Anyway, Jake: Y'know, part of the substance is the swagger, and that's what you've got...well, that and a few other things we'll discuss after my wife's out of tow- heh, I mean, after the show.

Farley: Yeah, it's all about thinkin' outside the box, you showed us a new side of yourself, great job. I dunno, to me truly thinking outside the box would've involved My Funny Valentine.

Sass: Fabulous, just fabulous. Yeah, like calling to like across a sea of bad fashion choices, it's a beautiful thing. Later, maybe, they can get together and tell each other the stories of their tattoos.

Zack, simply: Good for you. Suzi grins back in perfect understanding. Suddenly I'm truly anticipating her next performance.

Benedict: I guess this was a tough one for you, huh? Suzi, still in character: "Oh, trying new things is always fun..." Benedict: [blinkblinkblink]...Man, I think she just regressed him all the way back to Season One.

Aaron....OK, so this night is sort of fraught for the big guy. On the one hand, he finally gets to quit with playing the parts and simply wallow in Walpole, reach down and show off exactly what makes him tick. On the other hand...what makes him tick is playing a part. And frankly thus far that's netted us exactly one memorable performance plus a faux-hawk.
So he bustles out in the suit, and the fedora, and the big booming vocal (albeit, oddly, not quite as booming as I was confidently expecting) and...yeah, he's in his element all right. Total command of the stage, not a snap nor a shuffle out of place. I can honestly say that I loved every minute of it. And...I suppose it's not bad, exactly, that I have this mental 'Blues Brothers crash Canadian Idol' skit running through my head all the time he's clearly performing a snappy leading-man number? Only not so much, y'know, the Blues Brothers? Maybe a Blues Brother muppet. Or possibly Naughty Number Nine from Schoolhouse Rock. At any rate, it truly breaks my heart to say it, but Josh is more fundamentally interesting just standing there twitching than Aaron is doing an entire soft-shoe routine.

Farley: Yeah, it's all about staying in your box, you showed us who you are, great job. Farley, man, could we go back to where you were thinking up cute rhymes for their names, now? You're makin' me nervous.

Sass: I'm really, truly impressed. Nobody suggests she get out there and do a little tap-dance on the subject complete with top hat and cane, but I'm guessing a)I'm not the only one thinking it and b)at least one of us is wearing a fedora.

Zack: Good news is, that was fantastic. Bad news is...that was fantastic. Yeah, pretty much.

Jake: You're a song-and-dance man, and you've proven it. Wow, I think I can actually hear the faint strains of Taps in the background. Although you really have to wonder how much of a liability a musical-theatre star would be as Idol, after all. I mean, faking enthusiasm is a valuable skill, in the trade.

Ben: Sass likes it! She really likes it!...At which Aaron starts rubbing one plump jowl up Ben's sleeve. Oh, please, please, O all-powerful gods of taste and/or possible slander suits, prevent me from typing what I'm thinking right now. There isn't enough bleach in the whole ruddy SuperCentre.

Melissa...De-Lovely. And is she ever. The Life magazine article on the up-and-coming starlet featuring photos of her hugging cute farm animals practically writes itself. About mid-way through I was kind of wishing she'd quit putting her hand to her stomach on 'de-lectable', because it wasn't helping in a few different ways. (Shoemom, with real surprise: "She's only seventeen?")
However we quibble. If she's not exactly up to slyly driving her man wild with subtle possibilities just yet she at least delivers one hell of an inspiring pep talk, especially in that warm, expressive, ultra-flexible tone of hers. She's a camp counsellor taking on a universe wherein millions of movie dollars were devoted to Esther Williams shoving Red Skelton into the pool just so - can't fault her instincts in any way shape or form. Can, actually, be mildly intrigued by a seventeen-year-old who knows her musical self intimately enough to skip the perkily obvious, resist the melodrama, and choose the perfect Big Band song. I hereby declare myself on the O'Neil bandwagon, and not only because Josh is due to be eliminated in the next ten seconds or so anyway. For one thing, would she not make, like, the ne plus ultra bookend with Kalan? No, seriously, forget the movie, they could make a killing just selling the little china bookend figurines.

Sass: You're the best singer left on this show..."Yeah!" Uh, time for Shoemom's annual Young Whippersnappers' Banquet speech, folks. "Did you hear where her voice went from high to low like that, without even trying? Made it sound so good? That's exactly how they used to do it. None of this screamy stuff they do today, they have to get attention somehow because they can't sing. Bleah."

Zack: You're a classic in any generation, and a serious threat to win this thing. Translation: Sell-out, me? Yo, you checked out K. Clarkson's bank account lately?

Jake: Is still obsessing about the Canada didn't-get-it thing. Man, being self-righteous must be fun, because it never quite occurs to any judge who tries this shtick that any minute now Canada is going to take them at their word. I think next time we should have Toya or Kaleb come on with a ceremonial roll of duct-tape, myself.

Farley: You embraced it...you look great...you did it all with such ease. OK, I'm not disagreeing, but let's not get carried away, here. If she looks that comfortable on Classic Rock night, then we can start with the uber-gushes.

Benedict: If I could just become a fan for the moment...[total Andy Hardy mode]...pantpantpantdrooldroolpant uh wanna go get a soda or something?[/Andy Hardy mode]

Josh, When I Fall in Love. Well, whaddaya know, Eurofreaky dude appears to be completely invested in providing us with some classic-style crooning. Really smart move, all told, in a week when you have to figure the voting sharks were circling. Or maybe they're just attracted to the hair goop so he had no choice but to dial back, I really have no idea.
Whatever the cause, I am totally with the program. Especially the part where he turns out to have truly gorgeous green eyes and knows how to use them in a fashion that makes Kalan look like, well, a teenager...Hmm? No, seriously. I dunno if he's just channelling his desperation re: the theme or what, but he's got kind of a Gatsby-esque thing going on as he sings, rakish suavity masking the world of fascinating possible frailties in the vocals. (Although you can tell even that much straight crooning was a real sacrifice because every three seconds or so he winces like "Morrison, man, I'm sorry!") Not - as Shoemom did not fail to suggest - that you'd want to explore many or all of said possibilities in any great detail...but, I mean, they're there. The last time Idol felt this adult it involved six instruments and an entire Lightfoot trilogy.

Zack: That was...breathtaking. This is the happiest I've ever been on this show. Even greater than the bobblehead Mulroney? Dude. Josh thanks him sincerely.

Jake: I thought I was watching an old-time matinee idol...[mental violins swell on the soundtrack] you've got your hair off your face, you're a handsome guy, you've got the great eyes, and do not even get me started on the singing - just totally captured the moment. Heh, yes, well, we'll just be giving you two a little alone time now, shall we?...Seriously, in a lot of cultures I think they're officially engaged. Josh breaks out into good-natured laughter, which is pretty much his safest bet.

Farley: Yeah, thought I was watching an old telethon, there. Shoot, apparently PBS only decides to get funky just when I change the channel. I always figured Dixie there couldn't be that excited over Dionne Warwick alone.

Sass: You're a contemporary Idol. Translation: Back off, Goldie.

Benedict...oh, lordy, look, they're mirror images! I'm sorry, I know Josh says something really nice and heartfelt in here, but I can't possibly concentrate. It's like in that Star Trek episode, Ben's been split into his cheezy self and his creepy self. Zany. Outfit that looks like Charlie Chaplin auditioning to play Sam Spade. Black-and-white film. Sass, who's married, then Jake. Who looks like he's coping by fantasising Josh in Zany's place. Any further questions? Keep 'em to yourself.

Rex, Feeling Good. And the crowd goes positively delirious with, uh, Gillespie. Shoesis, fondly-I-swear (she's also got Jason's CD): "I like him. He's so dumb."
Yeah, like a fox...OK, a raccoon. Would you believe a chipmunk with attitude? Anyway, forget the crumby crooning gig, kids, the bustling ain't his bag; our Rexy is shooting for nothing less than Cool, this night. And achieves it...almost. In the moment, he is totally da man, effortlessly fusing rock to Rat Pack - small-town kid out to take on the world and damn anybody who tries to stop him. It's classic, it's fresh, it's fantastic...in the moment.
But once again, he just can't give it that damn-I'm-good stamp that would last beyond it. Primarily because - as becomes painfully obvious as quickly as the [product-placed] recap - he just ain't that good. And every replay, he gets a little worse. When he's not sharp, he's flat; the key is all over the place, the phrasing woefully amateurish. The Chairman would chuckle indulgently at Rex's spunk, sure, but eventually, he'd start bothering him big-time.
So I turn to Shoemom, expecting a veritable cacophony of winces, and instead...defensively..."Well, it's better than that Bubbly guy's version, anyway..." Yeah, yeah, but about the 'screaming'? Dead silence. Why 19Evil is content to have the b'y flail around the stage in lieu of whisking him off to their top-secret lab for heinous experiments on his freakishly potent appeal genes is beyond me.

Jake: This is where rock came from, so you made that Rex-sings-a-rock-song, so...probably the best singing you've done so far. Eeek. Look, dead-honest plea to the Rexinators: As you love the guy, let him finish second. Seriously. The career you save and all that.

Farley: You have fun, we're all gonna have fun, the audience is gonna have fun. Except Michael Buble, of course, who's out back talking to the hit squad as we speak.

Sass: This is gush night, you're blowing me away. Had no idea you had that much range. Awww, Sassy, you are so totally not gonna respect yourself when you watch it in the morning.

Zack, who has either watched the rehearsals very closely or is completely delirious, or quite possibly both: You like my suit? I like your suit! What the hell, let's just pull an Amazing Race! Everybody stays!

Benedict: Where'd the song idea come from? Oh, apparently Rex was watching Letterman the night Buble was on. Right, and next week, the classic-rock tune he heard blaring on the pizza-delivery guy's car stereo. Y'know, in all seriousness, if this kid put half as much thought into song selection as he does into being from Newfoundland, he'd be twice again as special as his kinfolk keep insisting.

Casey...I Could Write a Book. Erm...I hate to give any more ammunition to the Corpsey jokes than strictly necessary...but yeah, that was pretty much the Big Band Performance of the Living Dead, right there.
Her instinctively nice phrasing creates the outlines of something sorta possibly sultry, all right enough...but where the full rich decades of world-weary wisdom and humour should be there's a kid who's being forced to analyze the titular book in English class.
And apparently blew off studying for the symbolism test to visit the cute new formal boutique at the mall. Memo to her fanbase: this is what annoys the rest of us so much, that not only doesn't she bother to pick songs that she can connect to she doesn't even try. And I've gotta believe it's out of sheer cluelessness, because nerves don't cancel out real showmanship that completely, and lack of confidence would be manifesting itself in desperate over-the-top campiness, not half-hearted is-it-recess-yet? swaying. Look, kiddo, you're seventeen, not seven, and you're here on the strength of a Sam Cooke tune. OK, plus crazed delusional Maritimers, but still. If Suzi can get it right in those boots, a little upscale vamping can't be that much of a challenge.
Then the voice gives way on one setpiece note, then another, and the grade-point average just goes all to hell anyway. After that you can pretty much sit back and watch the plans to spend the rest of the night sobbing petulantly into her pink cell phone chase themselves across her face.

Farley: Is basically one giant glowing white can't-say-it shrug. I think he's been reading the forums.

Sass: Not your genre. Right. Thus far we've eliminated country, soul, pop, and now jazz/swing. And I'm not holding out a lot of hope for classic rock, either.

Zack, in a dead monotone: One spectacular line...you...look great, really....you're representing, um, Your Community really well...uh...it is what it is. Oh, man. In case you were wondering if anybody at BMG/19Evil actually wants Casey to win this thing? No. Forget memos, I think they may have forced him and Zany to share a dressing room.

Jake: Took your happy pills today, buddy? Roman, I want to slap him so bad. Especially since he then turns around and totally does the exact same routine, except of course he gets to skip the part about avoiding mail containing live sea urchins. Meanwhile Casey is looking on at all this with an expression like 'Stupid judges anyway! You just like Suzi because she has all those tattoos!"

Benedict: Pshaw, nobody listens to them, they listen to you! Yeah, and when she landed in the Bottom Three next night I'm sure she remembered that particular nugget vividly, O Host Who Needs Some New Lines Pronto.

Darryl...What a Wonderful World?Ohhhhh, no. No, no, no no no. My entire music-appreciation faculty is just refusing to accept this song coming from a kid who looks like he still hasn't figured out whether it's even a beautiful day in the neighbourhood.
Actually, that wouldn't have been so bad...the vocal is clear and sweet and would probably have won him American Juniors no problem, although he might have been in tough against that one little guy doing Moon River...but noooo, our arts major here has ambitions. Up 'til now he's been content to let the song suggest the innuendo and sit back and reap the rewards...but somehow he's now gotten it into his darling little jug-eared head that this song is his Big Moment. His own personal Somewhere (Over the Rainbow), as it were. And is accordingly head-bobbing and jazz-handing and blinking coyly at the camera to the point where he couldn't care less about such details as, say, keeping the tempo straight or anything. Darryl, kid, seriously, have you looked in the mirror lately? There are entire police task forces built around the wrongness of this concept. Shoemom and -sis have like this entire banquet of objections to pick from at will. "Ewww! Louis Armstrong!" "Ewwww! He sounds like a girl!" "Ewwww! He has an eybrow piercing and he sounds like a girl and he's covering Louis Armstrong!!"

So eventually, it's time to face the judges. To set the tone for the following you need to envision Darryl scrunching his adorable wittle face and biting his lips and just generally cringing lower and lower in what I can no longer comfortably think of as pure childish misery, so for both our sakes am just gonna move right along now...

Sass: Pee-Wee Herman and Jerry Lewis singing Louis Armstrong. Yeah, make him spend all night figuring out the critique, that's the ticket to preventing the nervous breakdown. At least until he gets to a Net connexion.

Zack: Y'know, all those fifties shows where Avalon or Anka is singing and the girls are screaming and you can't tell what they actually sound like? That's what they sound like. Which mean's it's probably a good thing they were screaming, all told. anyway, he then opines that Darryl and Casey are on a different show tonight.

Jake: That was about the cheeziest thing I've ever seen. Including that one night where Tyler sang My Girl? Dude.

Farley: Yeah, didn't do it for me at all. Darryl wells up. I become so, so unbelievably glad he's gonna be able to work it all out off-camera shortly.

[product-placed sandwich shop with annoying smug pitchman] recap. Everybody not named Casey was brilliant - although frankly we've decided Darryl's maybe a bit too high-maintenance - but only Casey's voice actually cracked, got that? Because if this doesn't work, Nackamickle, you're about to find out where some of those missing tactical nukes went. Clap clap clapclapclapclap!