AIs Top 13: WWSS?

(note: I wrote this after last night's Top 13 performance show, but am posting it now, a day later and after the elimination round.  Sorta late, kinda backwards, I know, but you know the ol' cliche...better late than...oh, forget it...)

Watching this week's episode, I can’t help but wonder these four words that have been whispered throughout the land these past 6 or so weeks since Season 10 of Idol was transfused with new blood: What Would Simon Say?

Would he approve the modernization of his archaic formula? Would he rejoice, ten years on, the 21st century sensibility of his 20th century-style relic? Would he applaud the new resident “mentor” Jimmy Iovine and his merry men of superstar producers who, rather than mentor these 13 novices, only aid and abet their grandiose rock star fantasies?

I know, I know. The Ghost of Idol Past recently told Piers Morgan that he knows season 10 is better off without him, but I still can't fathom that, even with his presence, we'd still suffer fools gladly.

So, bring on the themes. This week's was sorta Idol singing Idol...their own. Here’s my take on the party:

Lauren Alaina Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine" My grade: B-

Her "Anointed One" status an annoyance because she's coasted on bland, well-sung, generic recitals signifying nothing if not a self-confidence bordering on holier-than-thou narcissism and the overpraise from the judges. That she believes her Idol, Twain, was the first Country star to blend Country with Pop is only proof of the sad state of musical knowledge of today's ADD wannabes. And, that her Twain cover was yet another big, vacuous, flavorless performance that America will lap up is an affidavit of a big, vacuous, flavorless America.

Casey Abrams Joe Cocker's version of the Beatles "With A Little Help From My Friends" My grade: B-

At first glance one would construe that Abrams covering his Idol Joe Cocker’s greater version of the Beatles’ already-great “With A Little Help From My Friends” was, well, obvious – he, like Taylor Hicks a few seasons ago, is often compared to Cocker’s gruff, blue-eyed Soul. Too many foolishly compare Abrams with Hicks, though, as if their mutual admiration for Americana is easily mashable; Hicks mimicked the blues from the outside in, as a fan with no innate aesthete. Abrams, for all intended purposes, exudes it from the inside out. Or at least used to; two weeks running, he’s creeping into a caricature of himself. Leading into these performance rounds, he was one of my favorite performers. Could that sustain?

Ashton Jones Diana Ross' "When You Tell Me That You Love Me" My grade: C-

If Jones had any legs in this competition, she just amputated them. Going after Ross isn’t really a chancy move, despite her claque; Ross was never Billie Holiday to begin with (although she played her in the movies). But if you want to do Ross - a vocal stylist with a flair for the uber-dramatics without the big voice to propel them - then deeper the canon ye shall seek. “When You Tell Me That You Love Me” is an obscure enough, forgettable, dreadful, soulless 1991 ballad, decades post-Ross relevance (and, back in Season 4, it was the calamitous Idol charity single). What a colossal waste of a Top 13 spot that - by all musical rights - should have gone to Lauren or Kendra. As she counter-melodically chirped her way through the most simplistic of melodies, I couldn't help realize, for all her faults, she was perfect fodder for Rodney Jerkins - the master-producer is used to working with wannabe divas with thin, Lilliputian vocals. Just ask JLo, Brandy, Monica and Toni Braxton.

Paul McDonald Ryan Adams' "Come Pick Me Up" My grade: C+

Hopping over oneself like a rabbit with one hind leg doesn't bode well as a performance. Doing so while singing an ambiguous song by your Idol, Alt-Country cult hero Ryan Adams while sounding like Macy Gray after an all-nighter, doesn't even bode well as performance art. McDonald isn't the first Idol to cover Adams - a few seasons ago, eventual Top 2 (!!!) finalist Blake Lewis gave a weirdly listenable cover of “When Stars Go Blue” (but at the time I doubt Lewis knew who Adams was – he performed Tim McGraw’s cover on Season 6’s “Country Night” theme). But, heed this warning, Paul, as Lewis can attest: the Idol stage is littered with the ectoplasm of Idol dreams lost. He who lives by the quirk, dies by the quirk.

(Kudos to Randy, though, for name-checking Whiskeytown and Wilco - far superior Alt-Country heroes to Adams’ self-indulgent tendencies).

Pia Toscano Celine Dion's version of Eric Carmen's "All By Myself" My grade: B+

Over-singing, despite what these musical charlatans might think, has nothing to do with soul or inspiration. Merely desperation. Toscano is no slouch - she's strong-timbre'd and packs a wallop, despite having the personality of drywall. That wallop, however, tends to deflate into a shrill-like moan. An ancient Idol curse that seduces many and swallows whole is the decision to pick a song that is far too mammoth for a lesser range. Pia teeters on that edge. This is her second consecutive exaltation from the panel, who often mistake the big glory note as something supernatural - when it's merely anti-climactic. Her money shot is her striking, melisma-free alto - that smoky sonority that sends shivers. The good kind. Still, the female to beat this year.

James Durbin Paul McCartney's "Maybe I’m Amazed" My grade: A-

The sound you might hear is me eating my hat. Throughout the audition and Hollywood rounds, Durbin's vocals were exercises in passionless discord, and as the judges went wild with unabashed hosannas, I shivered under my bed. After last week's rocking, albeit generic, metal-fest (sorry, Randy, you're wrong - Adam Lambert REALLY rocked the house with his triumphant Led Zeppelin cover two years ago), Durbin proved that when in control of his wild side, there's something deeper. Tonight's performance of McCartney's "Maybe I'm Amazed" showcased a resonance that was simultaneously rough and tender, sung like a clarion call. The performance of the night.

Haley Reinhart LeAnne Rimes' "Blue" My grade: C-

As sonically grating as it might be to those of us with lesser patience, yodeling is an art form. And despite what Haley thinks, discordantly sliding from chest register to a wonky falsetto and back does not a yodel make. Her “Blue”, in all its lifeless ennui, sounded more like the soundtrack to a reluctant summer outing of your overbearing aunt’s tea party, where, instead of suffering through your talentless cousin’s forced performance, you’d rather be sucking the diet coke off the patio furniture.

Jacob Lusk R. Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly" My grade: D

I’ve used this adage before, but it bears repeating ad nauseum as necessity – whose voice touches who is a personal issue, and Lusk obviously has a pew of devotees. “Pew” was meant as no pun, but pew - as in P.U. -  fits the mold. Even if you actually needed proof prior, this should be testament that god can’t exist. And if he/she does, this performance would inspire even the Almighty himself/herself to destroy humanity in retribution to gross grandiosity.

Thia Megia Charlie Chaplin's "Smile" My grade: B-

How do you solve a problem like Thia? That’s not meant to imply that this lovely, talented youngster is a Haley-like menace. Not at all. Also, I can’t blame her for not understanding the song “Smile” is not about, well, smiling or not having the foggiest notion of who Charlie Chaplin is/was (this would explain the total disconnect in her eyes) - not many 16 year old's would. Yet for weeks, her perfect-pitched instrument counteracted the lack of emotional depth. Tonight, we weren’t even that lucky. Whether it was her nerves, or sudden jolt of an altered self-confidence, her pitch wavered and withered, her demeanor compromised (she’s best when she's inert) and the ersatz arrangement morphed into a Jazz Lite recital. Her vulnerability was a revelation that, hey, she actually isn’t an android. But it also wasn’t pleasant to experience.

Stefano Langone Stevie Wonder's "Lately" My grade: B

Producer Polow Da Don converting Stevie Wonder’s gorgeous ballad, “Lately”, into a house anthem for Stefano? I so want to be on board. But saddling Langone with house beats seemed to confound him (and us), forcing him to play catch up and nearly exasperating his silken vocals. Nearly. But there’s no denying Langone’s golden pipes, earthy vibrancy or wide-eyed smile. And never underestimate the power of young girls and gay men - Langone is Season 10s all-around heartthrob (as my friend Charles stated, “I’d sign that ass! Then I’d give him a contract!”). He's here for awhile.

Karen Rodriguez Selena's "I Could Fall In Love" My grade: C

When you’re intimidated by Selena’s minuscule vocals, you’re in way over your pretty little head.

Scotty McCreery Garth Brooks' "The River" My grade: B

His faux-authenticity shouldn't be so vexing - at 17, he's no less trustworthy a legit than Taylor Swift, who made tween diary entries into million-selling downloads as a teen, and with less solidity than McCreery. Also, at 17, let’s be thankful his Idol isn’t the gruesome Rascal Flatts. I can sense his affinity for Garth Brooks, who, monetarily AND artistically single-handedly saved Country music back when it mattered – Brooks always stayed true to the inner peace of his neo-traditionalist values despite the easy target from the other side. McCreery might be young, but you sense that his innate joy is to merely sing the music he loves, and sing it as undemanding as his bumpkin heart can muster. And, lest you allow your allergies to Country music misguide your knowledge, this kid could easily be a megastar with all his heart. If only there were a touch more soul.

Naima Adedapo Rihanna's "Umbrella" My grade: B

When Rihanna’s infectious “Umbrella” was released back in 2007, the myriad of cover versions were immediate and abundant on YouTube. Many found - within the jangling of its singer and thumping time signature - an exuberant melody that beckoned acousticizing. After whateverhernamewas got booted just a week ago for bleating a different Rihanna hit, the song select alerted my concern for Naima. Was she going to scale it back and showcase her voice? Nope – instead, she infused it with a hip hop lapel and garnished with Dancehall-lite stylings, popping and locking in between choruses that would make former Fly Girl JLo proud. But here’s the conundrum – it was a mess, but it was a joyful mess. It was wacky, disconcerting, jovial, and, as merely an amateur, it sucked the wind out of Naima, deflating her vocals. But, instead of appearing a desperate attempt, it showcased Naima’s charm and grooves. Weird, huh? Will America get it? Hell if I know - I don't know if even I get it.