Sunday, November 05, 2006

Oz Idol wrap up: 8th semi final - "Audience Choice"

Hi, I’m redcap. You might remember me from such posts as The Fake Arse Incident and The Crapcream Sundae. You’ll usually find me over at the half-hearted hack, but since PetStarr has gone a-gallivanting, the Good Doctor and I are taking care of the place for a few weeks. As she jumped on the plane, PetStarr tossed us the keys to the Canyon, leaving us looking at each other in sheer panic. "Holy hell!" we said. "What if we leave the gas on and burn the place down? What if it gets infested with zombie guinea pigs and it’s All Our Fault?" So far, nothing’s gone awry, but then she did only leave on Friday…

So before something bad happens while I’m here on my own, let’s get the Idol wrap-up out of the way, hey?

This week we have yet another World First – the Idols are singing songs chosen by the audience. Wacko! I’m excited, aren’t you? I reckon the judges just couldn’t think of another theme.

Marcia: What about rock?
Holden: Dunnit.
Marcia: Pop?
Holden: Dunnit.
Marcia: Swing?
Holden: Dunnit.
Marcia: Ooh, I know, let’s let them sing their own songs! I’ll bet Klancie will do something just great.
Kyle: Marcia, have you been stoned for the past eight weeks? We’ve already done all of those, you dozy cow. And Klancie had the arse ages ago!
Marcia: Oh. What about letting them choose from the Marcia Hines Songbook?

And so Audience Choice was born. Either that, or someone heard Jess singing "I Will Always Love You" in the shower of the Idol mansion and they knew extreme action was warranted before things got out of hand.

Marcia has made yet another odd choice of outfit and is wearing Kermit green. It looks like the top half of a safari suit made entirely from peas. How retro of her. And is that a lump of kryptonite hanging around her neck? As usual, Holden is channeling Henry Ford (any colour so long as it’s black) and Kyle is wearing a sneer. Marcia says something vague about passion and is horrified when someone suggests it might be code for sexual tension between her and either Holden or Kyle. Holden and Kyle are happy to admit that the sexual tension is between them. In that case, can you two just get a room and get it over and done with? Please?

First up, we have Little Jess. She’s had a song chosen for her by a bogan named Alexandra who looks like she needs a hamburger. And chips. Alexandra is wearing pale pink boof and I wouldn’t mind betting that there are either skinny jeans or leggings under it. Come on, people, bubblegum jeans were crap even in the '80s. I know, because I was there.

But Alexandra has chosen a loooovely song for Jess: Butterfly by Mariah Carey. Oh, good. I love Mariah Carey. Or at least I would love Mariah Carey if she were singing Butterfly while being fed through a mulcher in a salute to the Cohen Brothers.

Someone who obviously wants the Organ Grinder's Monkey to look a tad silly on national telly has told him that scrawny Alexandra has contributed an item of clothing to Jess’s wardrobe tonight. “No,” she says. The OGM looks confused, uncomfortable and stupid by turns. A tumbleweed rolls by and they cut to Jess.

Who is wearing a sequin-topped white sheet. And stockings. How novel! I haven’t seen stockings in ages. Of course, the song is dull, dull and dull. But what else would you expect, since it’s a Mariah Carey? Yawn. Predictably, the audience goes mad and her family claps enthusiastically. Yawwwn. I can tell I'm going to need a hell of a lot of caffeine to get through this show.

Holden bangs on a bit about the song being terribly difficult and says the audience got it right choosing that one for her. Marcia says she’s not going to criticise any more and is just going to enjoy the ride. Uh, Marcia, when was the last time you criticsed anyone anyway? And don't you mean "trip", not ride? Kyle says something but no-one cares what it is.

Next up, we have a lumpy bogan in with a goatee who’s chosen something for the equally lumpy Mr Murphy. He’s picked a Robbie Williams song just because Holden doesn’t like people singing Robbie. Great reasoning, mate.

The Murph is wearing a shirt that might be either Tencel or Hypercolour, depending on the angle. Whatever it is, he's looking more and more like Demis Roussos. He’s also wearing a piano. Wasn’t it piano night a couple of weeks back? Is it just an instrument free-for-all now? Obviously he loses interest in it though, because he wanders off and starts lurching around the stage like the undead. And oh Christ, he's wearing Cuban-heeled boots. Does this mean the Murph is a shortarse? Then he makes things even worse by raising his arm and showing us a sweatpit. He's only been out there for 90 seconds – how can he have a sweat stain already?

I can take the song or leave it. It’s fine when Robbie sings it, but that’s just because he’s cute and has bad-boy tats. Sorry, Murph, it’s a great big yawndown from me.

Holden tells him he’s number four (um, I know what number ones and numbers twos are, but what’s a number four - does it have something to do with sweat?) and asks him what he wants to be. Captain Murphy Obvious says he’d like to win. Kyle hints at poor old Murph having been off his trolley during the week and unable to sing, but Holden points out that Kyle has also been a bit the worse for wear. Does this mean the Murph and Kyle got trashed and slept in a dumpster together after the ARIAs? Nice work, boys. And is Holden jealous because there was no room in the bin for him?

Next we have a boy with a faux mo, an Ed Harry shirt and some crappy vinyl wrist bands. He’s chosen a song for Dean “Stending on a Piss of Bleck Plestick” Geyer. Pretty Boy Dean is wearing another khaki shirt from his army surplus wardrobe and his eyebrows are so disheveled that I think he and Jess Mauboy should go on a cute little eyebrow waxing date together. And great, it’s another boring as batshit song. Well done, audience - I’m struggling to stay awake after these three bits of crap. Obviously Dean is having trouble staying awake too, since he sings most of the song with his eyes shut.

Holden’s bored, Marica tries to be encouraging and calls him “boyfriend” and even Kyle’s too uninspired to come up with anything cutting. Everyone is just bored. Is it over yet?

But next we have my favourite little leprachaun, Damien Leith. The Irishman is cute in the way only boys with heads like robbers’ dogs and lovely accents can be. He wanders on stage in a cream jacket and stubble and kicks off Roy Orbison’s Crying. And it’s perfect. He sounds like an angel and everything is great until he shows us a set of very red and irritated tonsils. Euww. Get the boy a box of Strepsils before he coughs up a lung.

All the old ladies in the audience are in raptures and so is Holden. It’s touchdown time, as it should be. Marcia nearly passes out from sheer joy, though it could be the stage lights reflecting off the lump of kryptonite around her neck and blinding her.

Right, they’re all done, so it must be time for CSI, yeah? What the? Two songs each? Since when did that happen? That's not fair - you guys are breaking the rules!

Up jumps a weird little guy with an orange pyjama shirt and an adam’s apple that could take out someone's eye. He’s chosen Karma by Alicia Keyes for Jess to sing. No-one hears anything he has to say because they are all deafened by his shirt. Kyle states the bleeding obvious by saying it’s the ugliest shirt he’s ever seen. Kyle, wooby, you’re seriously off-form tonight. What’s the matter? Did you break your bitch bone while you were sleeping in that dumpster? And what’s with your hair? It looks just a little too Something About Mary.

Everyone must be suffering from ARIA hangovers, even the wardrobe bitch. Or perhaps the guy in the pyjama shirt was also allowed to choose Jess’s outfit. Whatever the case, she looks like she’s wearing a drop-waisted garbage bag. Or perhaps it’s just a longer version of the army surplus shirt Pretty Boy Dean was wearing. Whatever the case, the collar is trying to eat her head. Yes, yes, her voice sounds fine. Just fine, but the song is boooooring. What is it about tonight? Why is everyone but the Irishman so bloody dull?

Holden really wants to give her a touchdown, but even he realises it would be stupid to do it. He says something about knowing about the sound of one hand clapping and we all believe it. Remember, Holden, it’s supposed to be 99, change hands. There's that sexual tension again.

Next we’ve got another lumpy bogan who’s chosen a song for the Murph. I’m beginning to see a pattern here. Chris is getting the lumpy bogan vote, which explains his success so far. This one’s name is Michelle and she’s wearing a hideous print shirt which is obviously an homage to all the hideous print shirts the Murph has worn so far. But wait – if you whacked a beard and some long hair on her, she’d actually BE the Murph! Is this some sort of horrible cloning experiment gone wrong? Or are people having plastic surgery to make them look like their Idols?

Whatever the case, she’s picked a Crowded House song for Chris to rock up and it’s not a bad choice. Yes, he’s still got that nasty whiplash thing happening, which his chiropractor can’t be pleased about, but it sounds pretty good. I still would have liked a bit less soft-cockedness about it, but I guess you can’t have everything. The Murph has been trying hard to be the resident Rock Chick since Amanda got the arse. He’s had some teeny weeny little shoes to fill and they're pinching his toes, but he does try hard. He even finishes up with a little mosh girl kick that the guy from Wolfmother would be proud of.

Holden says it’s the best version of Mean to Me he’s ever heard. Hearing this, Neil Finn rings a hitman and says, “Yeah, that long-haired prick in the black body-shirt. Get the bastard.”

Whoever was working Marcia’s remote controls today has lost interest and gone to make some two-minute noodles, because she says, “You’re so comfortable with the guitar” twice in less than 30 seconds.

Kyle, on the other hand, seems to have popped a handful of Beroccas and washed them down with some hair of the dog, because he has a go at the G Man and the Organ Grinder’s Monkey, calling them Dumb and Dumber. I would have thought taking the piss out them was like a bit like shooting fish in a barrel, but baby steps, Kyle, baby steps.

It’s Pretty Boy’s turn again and a little chick with no chin has picked some Nickelback for him to sing. Wow, that s takes guts, love. No-one ever admits to liking Nickelback, especially on national TV.

Pretty Boy’s got out yet another khaki shirt. Is he sponsored by an army surplus store, for God’s sake? Bloke looks up from his book and says, “Mmff, looks like he’s pulled out his Afrikaans lion-hunting shirt.” Hmm, not a bad call. It even seems to have some extra pockets for bullets and biltong.

But guess what? You’ll never guess! It’s another boring-arse song. His voice is… nice. It’s not fantastic, it’s not bad. It’s just... Triple M. At one point he takes the mic off the stand and I start hoping he’ll turn another mid-air somersault, but it doesn’t happen. C’mon, man – not even a little starjump?

Someone in the audience gives Holden a sharp jab in the ribs to wake him up. He is cut off in mid-snore and quickly says he was expecting some jock rock. He wanted Dean to rock his jocks? What? He throws a glass of water over Marcia to wake her up and she suggests Dean will have to pull a rabbit out of his hat if he wants to win. Dean makes a Mutto note on the back of his hand that says, "Wear hat next week", while someone puts an electric cattle prod on Kyle. The shock of being woken up so suddenly makes him channel Dr Phil and he wants to know whether Pretty Boy has anything on his mind. "Tell me about your fazzer. Did he beat you? What about your muzzer?" Dr Kyle asks.

The ad break is, sadly, a little more entertaining than the last few songs. There’s a revolting ad for permanent hair removal which involves a bar of soap and some pubic hair ("give permanent hair removal a crack!") and that bloody Mentos ad with the nipples.

After the break, the Organ Grinder’s Monkey says they decided to let the audience choose the songs because they couldn’t be arsed any more. Ha! Knew it!

The Irishman has the last song of the evening and, joy of joys, he’s going to sing Hallelujah. No, he doesn’t look like Leonard Cohen, or KD Lang, or even Rufus Wainright, but he does look just a little like Shrek. I’m a big Leonard Cohen fan, so I’m expecting to like this one. He leans over his guitar and looks soulful and sweet and it’s good, but still a little disappointing. I’m expecting the falsetto to kick in much earlier, but doesn’t give it to us until the last few bars. Oh, what the hell. The others have all been so bloody humdrum that no-one cares.

And Holden is so ecstatic that someone has done something half decent that he gives the Irishman a second touchdown. Yeah, it was good, but two touchdowns in one night? Or was it to make up for the one you didn’t give him last week for Message to My Girl, you stingey git?

Finally the show's over, thank Ford. I’m guessing that Pretty Boy Geyer and Jess the Dress are going to be in trouble this week. But then Idol isn’t really about singing at all, so I guess Damien will get the arse.

Right, Raoul, your turn.


  1. Redcap, I am going to channel Mark Holden and say that you are BANG ON.
    Not bang bang on, but BANG bang on.

    And bugger, I got bored and wandered away before Halellujah...a Jeff Buckley fave..

  2. now you've got me thinking - a "marcia hines song night " might be interesting !!!! *cough splutter cough*

  3. Wow! This imitation PetStarr might not be as top-notch as the price of Savings meat pies, but she sure is fast at putting up her rundown! Wowee!

    I don't watch the show personally, but if next week features Neil Finn's hitman ripping out Mark Holden's synapses then I might just have to have a gander...

    Tally ho, Temporary Imitation PetStarr Lassie!

  4. I think I could still be said to be the frozen Savings pie to PetStarr's gourmet steak and mushroom ;)

    It was always going to be a tough act to follow, I'm afraid. There's also the small issue of me being a musical 'tard. Hang about til next week, though - I'm sure Raoul Duke will do better :)

  5. Good work, Redcap! I agree with everything you said. Last night's ep was incredibly boring and a complete letdown, except for Damien of course.

  6. xWell, that's all I know. The Murph got the arse. Who woulda thunk it? Told yes I was a music 'tard.

  7. Fantastic! I can see I've left the ranch in good hands. Raoul, you've got a lot to live up to, boyo. Righto, back to my bagel...