Archive for the 'tami gosnell' Category

Trix are for kids.

I have the flu. Probably divine retribution for all my snarking. Because God only likes good people.

So we’ve got a barrage of interviews and news articles to round up here. Let’s begin with a nice big Entertainment Weekly piece on Chris Daughtry. EW describes how Daughtry, who was playing an afternoon set at a children’s hospital, cancelled a Q&A conference, calls a collection of photos from his Idol days “cheesy,” and just generally is sick and tired of being associated with the show that is single-handedly responsible for his fame:

When a hospital administrator introduces him as ”Chris from American Idol,” the tightly wound singer snaps. He turns discreetly to a member of his entourage and whispers, ”Are they even going to mention the album? Are they even going to talk about the band? It’s just Idol,” saying the last word with special disdain.

You know what’d be really cool? Like, if three weeks from now, the New York Post picks up on this story and runs its own piece, perhaps with a headline like “CHRIS DAUGHTRY: DON’T MENTION MY NAME AND ‘IDOL’ IN THE SAME SENTENCE.” Then Chris can spend the next few weeks issuing press releases and going on talk shows to explain how his statements were taken out of context and how he’s truly very grateful to Idol. I think that would be pretty cool.

Oh, and the audience at a typical DAUGHTRY!!1111!! show? Not quite the hardcore rawker set you might be imagining:

A sold-out midweek show at Los Angeles’ El Rey is filled with moms in bedazzled peasant shirts and clumps of kids sipping Shirley Temples. When the compact, muscular singer bounds on stage wearing his standard uniform — dark T-shirt, flared jeans, and wallet chain — the room erupts in shrieks. A woman screams repeatedly, ”You’re so hot, Chris!”

Bedazzled? HA! Sounds like the Soul Patrol and the Chrisaholics are probably members of the same PTA.

New Orleans is loving them some Taylor Hicks:

The Krewe of Endymion, one of Carnival’s best known groups, was set to make its annual march through the city streets today, with “American Idol” winner Taylor Hicks leading it. Hicks was given a standing ovation when he appeared at a Bourbon Street restaurant Friday, as elated diners waved their napkins to a brass band’s beat. “It’s amazing to me what a difference a year makes,” said the 30-year-old singer, who was expected to perform with Al Green and Journey at Endymion’s ball tonight.

Parade, schmarade! What I want to know is, did Randy Jackson play bass? Get your priorities straight, L.A. Times!

Katharine McPhee, last seen shilling for Gillette razors (hey, a gal’s gotta make a living), has some harsh words for shock jock (not potential Anna Nicole baby daddy) Howard Stern. And I have to say…I back her 100% on this. Apparently, Katharine was invited to appear on Stern’s show. Here’s her response:

Howard Stern is a pig. I would never do his show. Why would I do a show that degrades women the way Howard does? No thank you.

Good for you, Kat. Just promise me that no matter what direction your career takes or how successful you are, you’ll stick to your guns about this.

And finally, want to know some more about your new Top 24? Some local news outlets have published interviews with their home contestants. Get the scoop on Chicagoans Leslie Hunt and Gina Glocksen, as well as U of Arts student Nicole Tranquillo. Oh, and for those of you who (like me) mourn the premature exit of the sensational Tami Gosnell, you can check out some of her original music here.


American Idol: Top 24!

Yaaaaay! The chair. Who goes? Who stays? Who showboats their way down the Green Mile?

Roll credits. Is Taylor still there, or has he quietly been edged out by DAUGHTRY!!111? Nope, looks like he’s still there. But it’s only a matter of time.

We’ll do it the short way.

Your Top 24: Sanjaya Malakar, who sashays down the hallway. Obviously the kid has talent, but I wasn’t blown away by his final performance, and I think they’re putting him through as pure canon fodder. I hope I’m wrong about that, because he seems really sweet. Fabulous Melinda Doolittle, although her final performance displays a potential problem with nervous, goat-y vibrato. Her new shag haircut is adorable, though. Snoozy Brandon Rogers. Gina Glocksen, despite the fact that she never seemed to rise above her back-up singers during her final performance. Haley Scarnato, another travesty, since her final performance is woefully off-pitch. Phil Stacey, who despite not impressing me during his audition, impresses the hell out of me now. Chris Sligh, who is still just a gimmicky personality for me right now. Taylor managed to rise above his shtick with his gorgeous vocals; I’m not so sure Sligh can do the same. Stupid fucking Blake Lewis, who still looks like an Ecstasy addict. Potential Lisa Tucker 2.0 Jordin Sparks. Paul Kim, whose stupid claim to fame is that he shall be barefoot from here on out. They really are scraping the bottom of the barrell for gimmicks this year, aren’t they? Anyway. Blue-eyeshadowed Stephanie Edwards. Quirky Leslie Hunt and her smoky, unaffected, effortless vocals, and her awesome strawberry-blonde highlights. She could be an early favorite. Nick Pedro. Alaina “God forbid I go to COLLEGE and get a JOB” Alexander, in another tragedy, namely because her final performance was gaspier than a fish flopping on the countertop. Chris “You mean I’m NOT Justin Timberlake?” Richardson. Belter Lakeesha Jones displays more subtlety and nuance this time around. She could win me over yet, although she definitely needs to go bra-shopping. Nicole Tranquillo, who has a nice, if a little nondescript. Jared Cotter. Amy Krebs, who I kind of like, despite her blindingly white teeth.

Future Trivial Pursuit questions: Tall Anna Kearns, who debuts a strange, puffy little pompadour. Poker-faced Bernard Williams. Eric “Justin” Davis, who apparently had the backstory to end all backstories (having spent five years in prison before becoming a Christian youth pastor). Tami Gosnell, in the first of many terrible injustices of the night. Jimmy “Little Ruben” McNeal and Errick Johnson. Gorgeous, ridiculously talented, Harvard-educated Thomas Lowe, in another injustice. Someone named Olivia Quibert-Hurst. Cute Tatianna McConnico. Monique Vieras. Jerome Chism. Joelle James, done in either by her unheard vocals or her strange Dolly Parton-meets-Rose Marie hairdo. Exotic-looking Princess Johnson. BUCKSTEIN!.

SHOWDOWN!: For the girls, it comes down to Marisa “Love me for my voice, not my body” Rhodes (her provocative photos have since been taken down) and Antonella Barba. They fake-wish each other good luck in the elevator, which is fucking hysterical. Marisa has the far superior voice, but inexplicably, Antonella makes the Top 24. Marisa kind of freaks out about it. For the boys, Tommy Daniels and his over-gelled fro take on Sundance Head Easy call, right? You’d think so, since Sundance didn’t do well in the first two rounds of Hollywood. But we don’t really know, since none of Tommy’s mad Hollywood skillz were never displayed. Then again, neither was Sundance’s final performance, which could have been either a masterpiece or an epic tragedy. Anyway, Sundance is through, leaving Tommy all the more available to flick off the cameras…and to make his future court dates.

So who are my picks so far? I haven’t given up on Sundance yet, although I’m not particularly loyal to him if he’s not up to par. Same goes for Leslie Hunt. I could also see myself warming up to Lakeesha and Melinda. But we shall see…

American Idol: Hollywood

Why is it that after every viewing of American Idol, I immediately get a craving for peanut butter? Is it because of that banana guy? Eh.

Hollywood, bitches!

I have to start off with this. What the hell did Taylor Hicks do to piss off the producers of this show so much? (Besides actually winning, I mean.) Katharine’s crotch shot of an album cover is all up in my face at the top of the Family Viewing Hour, DAUGHTRY!!1111! gets like eight hundred years of pimping as the Savior of Music, and Taylor? Just some crazy gray-haired dude who happened to wander onstage during the finale last year and get caught up in some confetti, I guess. Oh well. At least Taylor can probably count on the Soul Patrol to carry him through a long and solid (if not particularly glittery) musical career, instead of coasting solely on media hype, only to flame out spectacularly.

Round one. The girls start us off. Jory Steinberg somehow managed to both pack and wear the exact same outfit as Paula Abdul, which is creepy. Oh, and her singing isn’t really all that great — it’s affected, and there’s just no uniqueness to her voice at all. She gets cut, and sashays down the hallway, all “I thought it was good.” Well, I thought it sucked, as did the judges. Also? Girlfriend’s got one long face.

Stupid obnoxious Perla cootchie-cootchies her way through “Hips Don’t Lie,” which is apparently the only song she knows. (Cute skirt, though.) Simon puts her through, but tells her that she’s more personality than talent at this point. She’s understandably upset about this, and whines that she can’t stop being herself. No one asked her to stop being herself, but she needs to have the pipes to back it up. And she just doesn’t. Baylie Brown (whose website has been taken down, but if you Google her name, you’ll see the cached remnants that describe the supposed desperate-to-get-off-the-farm girl as a “seasoned professional”) speak-sings her way through a song, and gets through on…her blonde hair, I guess. Also going through: Gina Glocksen, Jamie Lynn “Kellie Pickler Who?” Ward, and Melinda Doolittle. Not so lucky: Army gal Rachel Jenkins, who gets cut after a lackluster performance; Ashlynn “Pour Some Sugar on Me” Carr, whose bitchface upon getting cut is priceless; rough-and-tumble Porcelana Patino, and daddy-doesn’t-love-me Sarah Burgess.

The men. Second-timer Bryan Miller sticks to his audition song, and it’s much nicer this time. Reagan Idol Jarrod Fowler sings Josh Groban boringly, and gets cut. Matt Sato and his beautiful eyebrows boyband their way through to the next round, as does Chris Sligh, who doesn’t get a whole lot of pimping this episode. Methinks TPTB have caught wind of the Soul Patrol-like gravy train that is the Sligh Phenomenon, and are going to do their damndest to stall his advancement at every turn (or at least they’ll step in once the possibility of his win starts to outweigh his entertainment value, because you know the last thing they want is another Taylor.) Also making the first cut: Brandon Rogers, Nick Pedro, Sean Michel, Phil Stacey, and stupid beatboxing Blake Lewis, who eventually WILL have to sing a song during this competition, unless the judges decided to allow him to beatbox his way through Diane Warren night. Sundance Head sings way too high up in his range, and displays none of the bluesiness or grit that made him my early favorite. He gets through on Paula’s generosity, apparently.

Round two. Group-hunting proves difficult for Matt Sato. Matthew BUCKSTEIN! joins a harmony-less trio, while for-now pimpees Chris Sligh, Rudy Cardenas, Tom Lowe and Blake Lewis , who still looks like he should be popping E at a rave, immediately hook up and later deliver a kick-ass performance (made all the more kickass, admittedly, by the beatboxing, although I still want to see him get off the crutch).

Perla can’t harmonize (and looks and dances like she’s being Tasered), and she’s out. Baylie totally blanks out on her words, and she’s gone. And God doesn’t like her, according to Amanda Coluccio. Sundance Head doesn’t do so hot, but lives to see another day. It also seems as though Sean “Fidel bin Jesus” Michel didn’t make it.

Final cut. Through to Hollywood are Melinda, Blake, Sligh, Gina, Tom, BUCKSTEIN!, and Sundance, as well as Sanjaya Malakar, Marisa Rhodes, Haley Scarnato, Leslie Hunt, Tommy Daniels, Jordin Sparks, Tami Gosnell, Anna Kearns and Paul Kim. Not making it are Shyamali Malakar (who, sobbing, is consoled by her equally devastated brother), Jamie Lynn, and Bryan Miller.

American Idol Auditions 8: Best of the Rest

Oh, thank God. It’s over.

Some vaguely Napoleon Dynamite-ish music plays through the intro, we segue to the credits (hee, Taylor Spaz…and to be honest, they didn’t exactly find the most flattering footage of Carrie Underwood, either), THIS is American Idol.

So who’s the best? Tami Gosnell looks (and kinda walks) like Edwin McCain, and her lip ring is all kinds of unfortunate, but her tough, gritty version of “Whipping Post” is tinged with enough unexpected sweetness as to make her one of the best singers I’ve seen come through these auditions. She’s passed through to Hollywood. There is a mysterious “Amy” who makes the Top 24; speculation is now that this could actually be Tami. Hmm… (ETA: It’s not her. She doesn’t even survive the first cut.)

Paul Kim (Top 24! Top 24!) is motivated by William Hung; that is, that he feels Hung has done a disservice to Asians by stereotyping them all as terrible singers. Well, yes…and no, at the same time. I’m not quite sure where I come out on these motivations. Anyway, Paul is a poolboy (Does he wear a thong? Does he have a boyfriend named Chuck? Do you get these references or do you think I’m just insane?) Anway, he sings well, far better than you’d think from listening to his MySpace, anyway, and he goes through.

Heather Rennie, Ashley Cleland, and Ebony (I missed her last name, but I couldn’t swear she actually had one) are roller-skating waitresses who enter together but audition separately. Heather, who resembles a prettier Melissa McGhee, turns in some boring Rascal Flatts. Ashley gives us “Angel,” and it’s better than Heather. She’s promptly told by Paula that sometimes, when it comes to make up, less is definitely more. (And Paula’s absolutely right; Ashley is a natural beauty, like a Jenny McCarthy without the hard egde, and there’s really no need for her to slather it on.) Ebony does justice to Whitney Houston, and looks rather uncomfortable when Simon tells her that she’s in a league of her own, compared to the other two. I’m not feeling any uniqueness from her, though. Ebony and Ashley get the golden ticket, while Heather goes back to trying not to spill milkshakes and baskets of French fries.

Lakeesha Jones, rumored Top 24 contender, is…well, she’s loud. Not a lot of nuance to her voice, but the judges must have liked her for something.

The…rest: Christa Fazzino, dressed like Jackie O meets Pirates of the Caribbean and singing just as badly…Edward Sanchez, knowing full well he can’t carry a tune, but wanting to get his chance with Paula anyway…William “Wes” Samaland wearing a marigold-yellow satin shirt that makes him doughy and girlish (and does the singing really even matter after that?)…Alexander Nazario falshittoing his way through some song I don’t recognize.

And with that, we conclude with a montage of season six auditioners. Like a little trip down memory lane. Because yes, the auditions have been going on that long.

February 2019
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What the kids are sayin’

"I hate them all. The judges, TPTB, the blatant manipulation, the songs, the contestants, everything. I'm a die-hard Cook fan, but for the love of god, at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself up there! Please? Syesha was awesome but she ruined it by being completely shameless and disgusting. Yes, being on American Idol is exactly like the civil rights movement, except for the part where you're fighting to make the world a better place."

"All I can say after the disgusting display tonight of favoritism towards the mediocrity that is David A. - good luck trying to market and make money off of that kid, American Idol. (Not to mention good luck dealing with his father.) All the teeny boppers may buy up his American Idol coronation single, but they will quickly forget about him before the album comes out. And I shudder to think of a David A. album - song after song of unrelenting sameness and heavy breathing. Why they are pimping him for the win is beyond me."

"This show was simply a hot buttered mess tonight. And Jason "needs to be arrested for what he did to I Shot the Sheriff. But I hope he stays. He amuses me. "