Last week on Canadian "Keepin' It Real" Idol: We sold our souls - or at least threw in our sense of shame as an interest payment - to 19Evil, and threw our egos a party on the proceeds.
This week...we watch the hangovers.

Dread Lord Clive: Not to worry, we had the lab minions nip over and apply a few dabs of our new Clark 2000 Soul Shriveller. They won't feel a thing. And the truly magnificent part is that we only had to use one coat on the orange one, so the lip-gloss budget is still right on target...

Shoebox: Indeed, not since the Globe anointed him a Mulroney For Our Generation - y'know, the one with the wars, terror, tsunamis, "E-Talk Daily!" - has our Benedict looked quite this glossily thrilled with himself. One thing you do have to give re: the boy's toolish instincts, they're pretty low-maintenance.

Joe Dwarf: And lest we forget, Ben still sucks.

Shoebox: Anyhow, time to meet the people who "don't know who's singing" - and truly, truly, don't care - your judges.

Jake looking absurdly pleased with himself and his cue cards, do you think we really got to know anything meaningful about the contestants, last week? "I have no idea why they didn't take Zack's advice," is Jake's Cirque de Soleil-worthy display of omnidirectional butt-covering. Kids, seriously, don't try this at home - you might end up wearing those glasses too.

Joe Dwarf: Y'know, that advice would have been ever so much more helpful had it been administered before the poor kids are standing there, skewered by the spotlights and humiliated by the groveling process, speech in hand. Mayhap not the best time to toss out an unrehearsed 20 second acappella ditty, Jake? You knob. Jest sayin'.

Shoebox: Farley serenely oblivious in stripes, any words of advice now we're down to the crunch? Y'know, I never fail to be amazed by how many of these questions could be answered with "Don't suck." The show would be over so much faster and I could get off the computer and go placate my self-respect with Jane Eyre, or a Twinkie, or something.

Joe Dwarf: Might I suggest "Rock Star: INXS"? Seriously, it's several orders of magnitude better than what we're slugging through right now.

Shoebox: However, Farley insists on also obviousing "Be memorable". Farley, trust me, it's not like they're not already terrified you're going to stop them mid-performance and see who can recite pi to the most decimal places. We get any more self-consciously memorable around here, the next "world-wide Idol first" is going to be a judicial maiming.

Sass not quite drunk enough in denim, what happens now with the cannon fodder...er, the double-eliminees? "We're all proud of you, so get out there and make the best of it!" . Right. Nice shiny Employee of the Month plaque at Burger King, here we come.

Zack in a classic first-season enfant terrible tee-shirt that only hints at the bad flashbacks to come...six girls, two boys, comments? "Well, Benny,"...wait, isn't it Ben's job to keep up with the lame running gags?..."Unlike some, I don't have any trouble with lots of girls..." oh, great, whatever it was, Sass shared it with him..."but whomever gets in, they're in tough! Top 10's gonna be awesome!"

Dread Lord Clive: Ahhhhh...yes, the Force is strong with this one. Disdain and mockery his weapons are...so be it. Editing minions! Cue the montage!

Kicky Montage of Mass Humiliation over, we're reintroduced to our eight survivors. The rejects...well, Ben's sorry to see them go and all, not enough to proffer free passes to 'E-Talk Daily!', or anything. But they do at least avoid the temptation to slap a Coke logo over shots of Jenn collapsed in a sobbing heap in Julie's lap backstage while Danian test-fires the Uzi.

Joe Dwarf: I suspect they had all kinds of humiliating, suspenseful elimination crap planned before they got smacked upside the head with the reality of the backlash. I can't imagine how any person with sufficient IQ points to turn a doorknob thought that was a good idea.

Shoebox: Luke, which was harder, singing to Canada or talking to them? Talking, 'cause I'd just got finished singing and then I had to turn right round and talk, and...none of these kids really ever gave Zack's alternative a single thought, did they?

Devika, planning on changing anything? "Oh yes - I'm going to play the pipes!" Well...uh...[blinkblink]...thank you for a truly lovely mental image, dear.

Stephane. A changed man, my friends, since he (apparently) discovered Velveeta-Lovers' Anonymous. Honestly, the judges showed him the light and everything. By the time he was finished vid-bioing I was all set to send in a donation.

...Or, y'know, volunteer. Because about thirty seconds in - right around the same time he really opened up that newly focussed, cool and mature tone - the hormones kicked in chez Shoe like they haven't since before Tyler Hamilton performed on Motown night. Frankly Stephane could have spent the next minute just sitting there and...gahhh, he even makes perching on that stupid stool look sexy!...
OK, sorry, sorry. The critical faculties eventually gave up on me in disgust too. We are however mostly in agreement that he'd be a real asset to the Top 10...this year, next, whatever.

Joe Dwarf: I thought it was very good as well, although he pushed the oo-lah-lah right to the brink of over the top. I mean, dude doesn't even speak with a French accent, never mind hauling out a dialed-back version of Maurice Chevalier. But yeah, head and shoulders above his first performance.

Shoebox: Judges: Genuinely shocked and delighted...also way too amused by Farley's "tribute to the lactose-intolerant" joke, which overt temptation Stephane manfully resists. (I think Sass is pretty much stuck hoping Darryl listens to Simon & Garfunkel, this year.) Zack in fact tells him "you sang that like a man". which filled me with hope as I watched but as I type, the day after the results show, is just filling me with the urge to roll my eyes in despair.

Joe Dwarf: Actually, he said that Stephane "sang that like a mensch", which is Yiddish for "good shit". Rough translation, OK? Close enough for an ex-Catholic. I'd have also accepted "sang that like a munchkin". Dude is a tad vertically challenged to be angling for Tyler's manly heart-throb throne.

Shoebox: "I am the cheeze...yes, the cheeze stands alone." OK, Benedict, enough. I really don't think this is what the parents envisioned from their little generational hope, you standing on a neon stage wholeheartedly embracing your inner nerd.

Barrett: At This Moment - specifically, the close of "two years of his life on this Idol rollercoaster". Uh-huh. On the one hand, this sincere quest - since I'm still pretty sure Archie here doesn't go on any other kind - to show Canada that he's just choc-a-bloc with soulful rocker passion is admirable, really. Hey, he's got ambition, plus he doesn't point at me. I like that in a guy with dimples.

However...let's just sit down and sum up, shall we? Two years, one nice-but-thinnish voice, some decent rockabilly vibes, and the dimples. Let us not forget the beginning-to-be-disturbing obsession with the pink shirts. Face it, dude, you've reached your soulful rocker core and found...Josh Seller. Past time to go home and mow the lawn.

Joe Dwarf: Suffice to say that I don't have a whole lot of sympathy for someone who chooses to spend two years fame-whoring and bitches about it. Better than before but the voters seemed unwilling to forgive a bad first performance. Or perhaps like me, they'd just had a bellyful of "At This Moment". One suspects Barrett has shot his wad at this point - he's a good looking dude with local-level talent.

Shoebox: Judges: Sass and Zack are in similar "here's a cooky, now go home" modes, although Sass really wouldn't mind if he stuck around for some milk. Farley: "Three words - Jake. Loved. That." When they do eventually dramatically cut to Jake, he's chuckling happily. "Thought I might as well say something nice...what? I just did." I wish I knew whether to cheer him on or slap him...

Joe Dwarf: I vote for the slap. He's being one smug, self-satisfied asshat this season. So, nothing's changed, but still...

Shoebox: Devika: Is confident the judicial tongue-bath last time out gave her positive vibes to take into this performance. Yeah, I know Zack very publicly retracted said vibes...go on, you remind her. I dare you. Performance...Unbreak My Heart. 'Nuff said. I will say this is the first time I've ever heard the usual Idol-diva vocal without the vocal part, so much. What's left is a random collection of occasionally interesting but woefully underpowered tones and notes that - once again - are in no way connected with the clearly vibrant, creative woman singing them. Leaving me totally baffled. Ah well, probably you couldn't explain what Devika the singer's doing wrong without messing up a lot of what's right about Devika the person, anyway. Plus, Mom would be really ticked too.

Joe Dwarf: That was ... disjointed. Somehow she felt she had to change and push herself into something she isn't, and it felt to me like she cracked under the pressure. You could see her eyes darting back and forth, she wasn't feeling it, she looked worried and unrehearsed. Stumbling over the lyric threw her for a loop, too. It sounded better second time around but the performance was uncomfortable for her and so also for the audience.

Shoebox: Judges: Three decently graceful pirouettes around "not happening" - I can just imagine what having to look into that face is doing to them - and..."Two words: Amber. Fleury." [sigh] Zack, I truly do appreciate you railing against the dark night of soul-suckage and all, but you think you could keep the smug cruelty to a minimum? You know how it backfires on you. And the way this season is shaping, when it does Jake will be in the background waving a little flag while Sass hums The Maple Leaf Forever.

Vince: Living a dream, or so he says. Yeah, well, I don't recall it ever being my dream to watch a tracksuited, soul-patched wad of Mozzarella wheeze at me in Italian, so we're about even, boyo. Seriously, we probably need to give the general female demographic some credit for imagination, here...unless of course it's all related to him personally, which going by those audience pans I wouldn't rule out.
That said, Vince can at least sing better, or at least far more subtly, than your standard Idol Teen Dream. He has a nice classic tone, has confidence, doesn't force anything - I doubt he could if he wanted to. But, c'mon, that also describes most of his soon-to-be brethren on the back end of the Vegas Strip.

Joe Dwarf: If he had any sort of performance skills, I might buy it - but standing there with the classic deer in the headlights look and doing the white boy shuffle doth not a global superstar make. I suppose you might label what he does all about the tone, if by tone you mean stage-whispering half the lyrics and wheezing through each air intake. I think someone should have just tossed him his ventalin, already. I'll grant that it was better than last time. I think I'd have given him more props for pandering to his ethnic community if he'd sung that whole thing while tossing a pizza crust rather than singing in Italian. He'd have at least gotten degree of difficulty points.

Shoebox: Judges: Again, lose the wheezing, although they seem a lot more confident than I am that it's a bad habit and not a cherished trademark. Zack, surprisingly, thinks he's this close to Top 10 material; I'm guessing the missing 10% has to do with the same severe reservations I have re: the current Idol market for crooners that you can't tell if they're actually 21 or just having a really severe mid-life crisis triggered off by the emphysema diagnosis.

Aaron: Awwww. I like the big guy. I really do. And not just because I'm uneasily convinced that if enough people don't believe in Aaron he'll up and throw himself into traffic, kind of like Tinkerbell with more heft and a convenient overpass.

Dude is very, very good at what he does. He has a big, flexible voice that allows him pretty much any vocal effect he wants, from soft to soaring; it's exciting to listen to. He's an instinctive showman; the audience happily follows wherever he leads. Aaron is, in fact, the perfect musical-theatre star.

Unfortunately, the role he has in mind is Rough-Hewn Rocker, and the song he's chosen is Drift Away, all of which pretty much requires that your main performance goal not be "getting the audience to clap along." So he's basically up there whaling away at his lifelong dream and getting further and further away with each chorus. This is gonna be one exhausting season for both of us, I think.

Joe Dwarf: Aaron reminds me of one of those guys who tours around evangelical churches doing "rock" shows. Yes, he's skilled, yes, he's talented but he is not in any way, shape, or form getting lost in the rock and roll. Lost in the love of the lord, maybe, or the love of the performance. But rocker? Not buying it, big guy.

Shoebox: Judges: Three enjoyed the vocal and are not overtly upset by the theatricality, having already seen the guy in blue spandex and all. Zack, on the other hand, got burned by that same Spandex Guy last year and this one isn't buying anything but the real real deal. Fine, Werner, when Aaron finally collapses over the judges' table with you beneath him, don't come crying to me.

Dianelys: "Unchain My Heart... Cause I've Got Customers Waiting and You Only Paid For an Hour." Generally lots of fun...aside from intermittent worries as to why she's wearing a wall hanging for a skirt. Also a couple moments near the end spent wondering if the hairspray's about to give out, or maybe she's visualising herself as a spinning top, which I don't recall as a classic salsa move...Ahhh, what the hell, at bottom she has a true musical soul, and you can't snark on that. Well, OK, you can, you just can't use any of the Charo jokes I was carefully hoarding. Which isn't any dead loss, believe me.

Joe Dwarf: Hey, I wanted to hear those Charo jokes! Her dancing reminds me of that girl at the wedding who has a few too many Caesars and decides she's every bit as hot as [insert trampy pop star of their youth here]. It's distracting as hell. The singing is great, though.

Shoebox: Above all, of course, you can't crown Dianelys Canadian Idol. She knows it, the judges know it, the chirrun know it. Far better to cut her loose here and let her become the darling of the downtown club scene.

Judges: "I'm on the next flight to Havana, baby!" Oh please, Flex, your fantasy life left two minutes ago and isn't back yet. While he's mopping up the literal drool, and Sass is...something, the other male judges are offering symbolic business cards. "The one true musician we have on this show"...heh. OK, kids, you can put away your Fleury-shaped voodoo dolls, Zack's snapped out of it.

Dread Lord Clive: Yes, cursed be your Canadian idealism! You leave me no choice. Scheduling minions! Bring me forth the list of theme nights! I desire to make a few adjustments...

Luke: Amazed. Is still petulant, as only severely ordinary kids can be when they're trapped in that peculiarly adolescent Coolness Vortex: The harder they try to come off all special and - for instance - rockstar-y, the more they actually sound like they're practising same in the bedroom mirror. While singing along with the CD over and over again just to make sure they've captured every last shred of, like, meaning, and stuff. ...Either that, or he's just a truly evil little scheming famewhore who's decided to add Jacob to his repertoire for insurance; given the eye-boinking and lip-licking, I can't totally count it out. At any rate, none of it - especially not the big ol' broken glory note right at the climax - is exuding anything heartfelt beyond "This kid is in way, way over his head."

Joe Dwarf: That performance had everything, didn't it? The Chest-Thump of Sincerity, the Closed Eyes of Longing, the Reach Out and Yank of the Non-Starting Lawnmower. That was painfully bad, and I prayed to the dark god Tsathoggua that we would be spared this overly-entitled, underly-talented, obnoxious famewhore for the season.

Tsathoggua: You're welcome. His lips shall make a fine decoration for my mantle, although I wonder about maintaining the gloss.

Joe Dwarf: Revlon "Virgin Cherry #2" twice daily ought to do.

Tsathoggua: Perhaps I'll just stick to the classics, and decorate with liver.

Shoebox: Judges: Point out the this-is-not-a-Full House-episode thing as tactfully as they can - even Zack, who really does become a whole different character around children. Luke, recognizing same, goes into full-bore Self-Righteous Snit Mode. Farley administers a verbal spanking. Luke stomps off, the better to a)be consoled by all the girls wo now think he's, like, totally all that, and/or b) maximise the time remaining to study Rex in detail.

Josh: OK, it's official; the less I see of the Eurofreak act the less I'm buying into it. Especially since Josh has apparently concluded that the only problem with it last time was the song choice...so we get the same act, same weirded-out vocal, same combover...only attached to progressively less interesting songs. Oh, and the total lack of humour, that's new.

Joe Dwarf: Word, as the kids used to say. It was more of the same, but with more screech and less cred. But it will still beat watching any of our first four princesses each week.

Shoebox: Which means that I really don't have any grounds for not believing that if he hits the bottom three often enough I'll be watching him perform Stand By Me in Dockers and a big grin. Judgement reserved for the moment, however, because I'm reluctant to relinquish hope for some real outlandish (not to say adult) fun in the Top 10...more self-satisfied "uniqueness", not so much.

Judges: Come to our arms, O beamish boy! (Sorry, just seemed appropriate.) Sass calls him on the Jeff Buckley Experience, he calls Sass some endearment or other, and my hopes revive a little further. Jake and Farley both go so far as to pull out the "We need you in the Top 10" clause, and the voters happily oblige.

So there you have it, Canada: your Top 10. Next up: Canadian Hits, aka (I suspect) Celine Ahoy.

Joe Dwarf: I'll be hiding the sharp objects in preparation for the recap. See y'all next week.