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But don't worry, I'll be back with a MASTER RECAP this weekend... hope you can hang out that long.
As it turns out, our first two Idol finalists are Matt (surprise surprise) and Jacob Butler. Who? Yeah I know, it's the guy who looks like Phil from Grinspoon. Huh? You know, the guy who sang the middle-of-the-road Austereo rock last night. Which? Oh YOU know, Rainbow Brite.
Not content to rest on the homemaker-esque laurels of last night's fashion disaster, Matt's wearing another tea towel inspired number around his neck.
I can only hope he wears something similar throughout the entire competition so that when he eventually wins, he can release a fashion label called "T" consisting purely of man sarongs made out of dishcloths sourced from Matt's mum's kitchen. Not to be outdone, Dicko is sporting a lilac check tablecloth that's even more dashing than Marcia's lilac throw rug from last night. Snaps to the D.
Audrey predicts that at some point in the competition, Jacob will attempt Augie March's One Crowded Hour. I concur. Marcia blesses Jacob, and thanks God that he's there.
"As if God's gonna care," shrieks Gloriana. Again, I concur.
On to our first chick-dol for the evening, and it's Sally Van Der Zwart. Bloody hell, did she actually get through, did she?
Sally is about seven feet tall and looks like the semi retarded offspring of Sophie Monk and a Bratz doll. Needless to say, there's something a bit odd about her. She's clearly one of those tall, thin girls who's not completely comfortable with being tall and thin (not surprising really, when it's possible half of the viewing population will confuse her with the mic stand). Also - Sally, Kelly Taylor from Beverly Hills 90210 called - she wants her hairdo back.
She's attempting a bit of Kelly Clarkson's Never Again, which basically means she gets to shriek like she's rock and roll without ever really actually BEING rock and roll. Surprisingly, it's actually ok. But you know, it's KELLY CLARKSON.
Kyle says he thought she was nervous. Then he says people are watching her box and think it's "this big". No wonder she's bloody nervous. Oh no hang on, he said people are watching her IN a box that's "this big". We still don't know what his point is. Marcia said she was good backstage. We can only assume this means that Sally was invited to join the big homoerotic love in that happened in Holden's dressing room after last night's show. Dicko says he has an issue with Idol contestants covering other Idols' songs. Especially when it's KELLY FUCKING CLARKSON. Holden, who is sporting a rather natty little vest, says "Ming ming ming ming." No really, he does. Then he says it was GREAT that she sang Kelly Clarkson, she SHOULD have sung Kelly Clarkson, and he HATES that song, and it was the song that almost killed Kelly Clarkson's career. So, all in all, he makes about as much sense as he ever does.
Moving along to Natalie "I've got a massive keyboard" Gauci.
She's gotten into the true spirit of ladies' night by putting on a sparkly black singlet straight from the 50% off rack at Table 8 Harbourtown and teamed it with a pair of just-a-bit-too-tight black satin pants. The overall effect is what you'd get if Gloria Estefan fell into an oil slick. She's also wearing a very complicated black beaded necklace that reminds me of what a smoker's lung might look like if it were strapped to one's chest.
She's singing some Christina Aguilera number, you know, that crap ballad she wrote about her dad. Natalie is boring, but has a nice voice, and she's pretty. Apart from the smoker's lung and the oil slick thing.
Marcia says Christina Aguilera has one of the finest voices in pop today. She fails to say anything about Natalie, because she's too busy trying to get the footy scores on her BRIGHT GREEN EARPIECE. Jesus, wardrobe - want to get a flesh coloured one next time? Dicko calls Holden "idiot boy". I'd love to leave it there, but have to mention that he goes on to say Natalie has turned "suburban" tonight, which is fairly accurate and so in the interests of journalistic integrity I feel I must report it. Holden says something about tones and light and shade and throws in a few more bits of "industry lingo" before screaming "SUPERB!" about 15 times and concluding with a resounding "YO!" Sigh. Will this be the new touchdown? Kyle says it wasn't smooth enough. Not sure if he's referring to the vocal delivery or Natalie's pants, which are so smooth it's possible if she sits on anything she'll slide right off. He also says she needs to change the nappy. I don't know what this means, but that's what I wrote down. Anyone got any ideas?
Next up is Cheray "Don't doubt me" Doughty.
Cheray wins the prize this evening for having the most appropriate name for ladies' night - you can just imagine a half-cut sheila, stilettoes in one hand, pack of Winnie Blues in the other, screaming it over the bar at the local. "OI CHERRRAYYYYYY! Get us anotha Breeza, would ya?"
Tonight Cheray has opted for some funk song, and I'll be buggered if I know what it is. All of us are too busy discussing how the scarf trend currently sweeping the top 24 may or may not be symbolic of the artistic nooses around their necks. It's all getting very deep and meaningful, but suddenly Gloriana's discussion of Foucault's sign, signifier and signified as relates to Idol neckwear is put to a stop when all of us realise Cheray is doing the "Mutto crouch".
This is followed by several minutes of squatting and thrusting that we quickly dub "The Metamucil Mamba". Does she need to go to the toilet? Is she doing an impersonation of Elaine from Seinfeld? Is she just trying to look sexy? Whatever she's doing, it's not attractive. Even Husny is shocked.
Dicko asks her where she pulled the rabbit from - so THAT'S what was shoved up there! That explains the dancing. He says it was "terrific, really terrific", and praises the performance for never getting "cheesy". Pardon? Cheray's thrust-and-warble put our family sized Capriciosa to shame! Holden says he wasn't sure how Cheray was going to reveal herself tonight, but then decides she's revealed herself as being Olivia Newton John. If only she'd revealed herself as Patrick McDermott instead, we could have solved that mystery once and for all. Then he calls her a "hot tomato". We assume he means "tamale", although in that atrocious red jacket she's wearing, maybe not. Marcia calls her Cherry and says she doesn't look like she sounds. For Cheray's sake, I'd bloody well hope not. Holden calls Kyle Voldemort, and Audrey the Harry Potter geek yells "HE'S NOT VOLDEMORT, HE'S WORMTAIL!" She swore all you geeks out there would know what that meant.
Whatevs, it's time for little Tarisai "Tiramisu" Vushe, who looks about five but is apparently actually 20.
I secretly hope it's some sort of voodoo curse on Natalie Gauci, so that when the Idolites all get back to the mansion her giant piano is chewed to pieces on the living room floor, surrounded only by scraps of fur and shattered mirrorball.
Anyway, Tiramisu does a pretty rockin version of River Deep, Mountain High, even though she screams almost the whole way through as she usually does.
Holden says, in order: "Mini Marcia!", "Wooooooo!", "Force of nature!" and "Cosima, Cosima, Cosima!" Who? Don't worry, even Cosima has forgotten who she is. Marcia gets out her Idol-meter from last night and says it was great Tarisai started at one. Holden double checks HIS Idol-meter and says no, she started at 11 and went to 33. Marcia makes a mental note to buy fresh batteries. Dicko continues his sound bite campaign by saying "big notes win votes", but then snaps back to reality by describing Tarisai's outfit as "affordable". It might be affordable, Dicko, but christ knows where you'd actually BUY it. Or WHY.
Next up is Jesse "Homewrecker" Curran, who's come to Tarisai's fancy dress party as "1996".
She's also decided to commit suicide on national television by attempting U2's One. I read with interest a blog article on the weekend nominating this song as the #3 worst song to try at karaoke. Here is an excerpt explaining why:
When you choose to sing Pearl Jam or Dave Matthews, you pretty much know beforehand that you’re going to have to do a flat-out impression of the lead singer. With One, though, you can’t really slip into full-on Bono impression without sounding like a crappy Mad TV sketch, nor can you sing the song in your own voice without sounding like an Idol reject who was bad but not in a unique or amusing way. You’ll be stuck in a perpetual state of partial-Bono impression that won’t sound like anything, will damage your vocal chords, and really begin to grate on people long before you come to the excruciating two minutes of "oooohhh ooohhhh!! haaaaaaaa!" at the end.
Clearly Jesse read the same article on the weekend, as she doesn't even try to do a Bono impression (Cheray sort of took care of that earlier anyway, what with all the quatting and crouching and meaningful stares). Instead, she looks deep within her soul and summons her inner nanna, pulling out a voice that sounds like a rickety octogenarian attempting O Come Let Us Adore Him at the Sunday service.
"Ewwwww noooo! That's AWFUl! I don't like it at all!" yells Gloriana after two lines, stuffing her head between two couch cushions to deafen the sound.
She's right, it truly is awful. It sounds like a cat mating with a broken beer bottle.
"People should be automatically removed from the competition for sitting on a stool," comments Audrey. I concur.
When Jesse's performance is over and the pain finally subsides, Kyle says he wanted her to blow him, but she was a bit too Julie Andrews. Hang on, I thought Jesse was blowing James Blundell now? Oh no wait, he wanted her to blow him AWAY. My mistake. Marcia says it was a bit too polite (you know, as opposed to the "parental advisory" version of One in which Bono sings "Have you come here to play motherfucking Jesus to the bitch-ass lepers in your head"). Jesse replies that she needed to do a polite song to make up for her "rudeness". Marcia assumes she's talking about blowing James Blundell while he's still married and says "Don't worry, today's news is yesterday's fish and chip wrappers."
"I meant the rudeness of my previous songs..." ventures Jesse.
Dicko gives the entire history of U2 and discusses their back catalogue for about 20 minutes before describing Jesse's performance as "a bit of a roadcrash". Perhaps not as BIG a roadcrash as Marcia's show stopping comment just then, but a roadcrash nonetheless. Holden says it was a beautiful, fresh, simple take on the song. Because One IS such a complicated song to begin with, isn't it?
Jesse cements her place in my least favourite Idol glory box by doing the "phone" hand symbol at the end. Bye Jesse.
Finally tonight is Lana "I'm Not Lara Croft" Krost, doing Fergie's Big Girls Don't Cry. Yes, Fergie. Let's hope she doesn't take the impression too far and attempt this:
Clearly Lana got the fancy dress memo too, as she's come as one of those dolls you put on the top of toilet rolls in the bathroom.
It's ok, YOU'RE INNOCENT, YOU'RE PURE, we get it. You don't have to actually DRESS like the driven snow.
Despite this dreadful outfit, she is really rather gorgeous, and has a very pretty voice to boot. But yawwwwn. Bring Husny back, I say.
Marcia says she looks like a picture, but neglects to say what of. I'm thinking maybe Miracle Whip. Dicko borders on creepy by saying "You're growing. You're growing REAL well."
"As long as he doesn't say HE'S growing," mutters Gloriana.
Then he slurs a sentence involving the terms "default position" and "slipping in", which is followed by Holden's comment that Lana is a pretty girl but she left him untouched. Suddenly it's my turn to stick my head in between the couch cushions.
And then it's all over for another night. Final comments, girls?
Gloriana: "Really disappointing on every level."
Audrey: "Disappointing atthe beginning, trailed off in the middle, and the less said about the end the better."
But more on all that later. Right now let's meet our judges - and don't they look spiffy tonight? Holden's gotten out his best bowl and had the hairdresser cut all the way round it, resulting in a look much like this:
Dicko's sporting a jumper/shirt combo in a colour best described as "tangerine fantasy" (also known as "what the?"). He's set off rather deliciously by Miss Marcia in a lilac throw rug, rounded out (rather literally) by big fat Kyle on the end.
Monkey Boy and Ken Doll are ever present to make sure there's still some sort of "youth" element in the hosting of the show - not that they need have bothered, because clearly Holden is hip and with it enough to connect with Idol's young viewing demographic.
"Idol five! Yo! Cool!" says Holden, showing off his knowledge of hip street lingo.
He then breaks the "awesome, awesome, awesome news" that Damien Leith's latest album has made it to #1. In completely unrelated news, every Channel 10 staff member this week received a brand new Damien Leith coaster.
"So, Damien - YO!" says Holden. That word never goes out of fashion, does it? Oh wait, it did? 15 years ago you say? Oh well.
Dicko says he's nervous about Holden being broadcast in high definition TV for the first time (It'll be like looking through the Hubble telescope at Uranus," he says). For the first time ever, I thank god I DON'T have a plasma.
Ok let's get this thing on the road - there are six boy-dols here that need whittling down to two. And who better to start than the winner of Australian Idol 2007, Matt "the hottness" Corby?
Hang on... is that a tea towel around his neck?
No, seriously. IS that a tea towel around his neck? Or is it some weird fashion from Afghanistan that I don't understand? Maybe his turban just unravelled itself on the way to the stage and he had to improvise at the last minute? Maybe he was doing the dishes at the Idol mansion when he realised he was late for the show and tried to run out the door, but slipped on a glob of Morning Fresh and accidentally got knotted up in the dishcloth, and didn't have time to undo it before he got the studio? SURELY. THERE HAS TO BE SOME RATIONAL EXPLANATION FOR THIS RIDICULOUS FASHION ABERRATION.
There's a quick flashback to Osama bin Dishcloth's first audition that we've all seen about a million times by now, so I get to do this:
And then it's straight into his performance of Stevie Wonder's I Wish. It's pretty good, if a little restrained. But honestly, who the hell is paying any attention to the performance - WHAT IS THAT BLOODY TEA TOWEL DOING THERE? Could this be the end for our Idol? Dropped like a hot spud because of a wardrobe malfunction?
Holden shows off his knowledge of music industry lingo by saying Matt's got good phrasing, pitch and falsetto. Then he says something about Matt being a kid from Cronulla and getting a present for Christmas. Is that what we can blame the tea towel on? Some dodgy present from Matt's nanna that he promised to wear on TV? HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY NAN, YOU'VE JUST RUINED YOUR GRANDSON'S CHANCE OF HAVING LOTS OF HOT GROUPIE SEX FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS. Marcia says she has no idea what everyone else was listening to, and skips her iPod forward to track 12 of Discotheque, Blame it on the Boogie. Kyle says Matt was undercooked, but gives him credit for covering up with the tea towel to keep the flies off.
Moving on to Junior "Superfluous apostrophe" To'o, one of the few people in the top 24 you've never heard of. Seriously, who is this guy? I've never seen him before in my life. I'm not even sure HE knows why he's there - he looks permanently confused, and talks as though he's concussed. It's not a great look, but somehow he sings like an angel. He does an exceedingly dull rendition of Pink's Dear Mr President, otherwise known as George Bush is Evil and War is Bad and You Thought I was Just a Pop Starlet but Now You Can See I'm Heaps Political and That.
Dicko wonders why all young men are obssessed with bush (zing!), and then asks Junior why he chose to do a protest song.
"Well, it's not so much political. It's called Mr President, but it could be about anyone, really," Junior says.
Yep, those are pretty wide reaching lyrics. Hardly political at all, when you think about it. Could be about anyone, really.
Marcia says Junior "delivered it incredibly", and flips to track 13, Let's Groove. Kyle says he's the meat in the sandwich. Richter scales everywhere register a minor tremor after the entire Idol watching population collectively shudders at the thought of Kyle's meat. Meanwhile, the silicon chip inside Holden's head gets switched to overload and he starts gabbling about sending Rove to bed and "overlicking" before concluding with a triumphant "Mmm yeah, yeah, YEAH!" Everyone waits for his head to open up and show the mass of sparking wires and smoking circuit boards that is no doubt inside, but sadly he seems to recover.
Next up is trumpeter Carl "In the navy" Risely, who clearly got Andrew G's memo about costuming for the evening:
Just for something different, tonight Carl is doing a Michael Buble number called Home. Which, ironically, is probably where Carl will be heading in 24 hours time.
"I want to go hoooommmme...." he croons.
"Let me go hoooooommmmmmme....."
Clearly someone at Channel 10 is listening, as the screen suddenly goes black for about 30 seconds, and we miss what was probably Carl's obligatory tumpet solo.
"It's so bad the network pulled the performance!" texts Raoul triumphantly.
Whatever. We're all thoroughly bored with this guy now. Unless he does something amazing (like turn an every day kitchen item into a fashion accessory, for example) he'll be back on deck eating his peas with his gravy any day now.
Marcia says the song summed up her life, because apparently she's always at home. Except when she's not, and then she wants to be. Then she flips to page 232 of the Little Book of Idol Cliches and reads out "believe in yourself". Kyle tells Carl he's a beautiful looking man, but if he were toast he'd push him down again. And possibly even if he WEREN'T toast. Which he isn't. Then he tells him to go hard. So it's a pretty clear message from Kyle, then. Carl tells Kyle he'll certainly go hard, just for him, and says "Remember when I kissed your hand backstage?"
Somewhere, Cheray is starting to doubt her femininity.
Holden continues the homoerotic feedback festival by telling Carl there wasn't enough air around it, it wasn't warm enough and it got thin. So, just to recap - Kyle wants it harder, and Holden wants it hotter and thicker. Just making sure we're all on the same page here.
Dicko channels Simon Cowell and makes a few navy related puns about men overboard and 21 gun salutes. I'm not entirely sure what he said actually, I was distracted by his Fanta collar.
Right, it's gotten decidedly nancy pants around here, let's butch things up a bit with Daniel "Werewolf Q. Greaseman Le Scarf" Mifsud.
OK, maybe "butch" was a bit much to ask for. Especially From Mr Mifsud, who has a penchant for big hair, tight tops and ladies' scarves. Tonight he's singing Diesel's Tip of My Tongue. I have no idea how he did because I was too busy singing along myself and couldn't hear him, so let's just say he did the entire thing falsetto, scatted at the end and replaced the chorus with an interpretive dance number.
Holden says it was underwhelming (what, even the interpretive dance?), and that he wants to see more Daniel. Maybe the two of them could get together with Kyle and Carl and make a real night of it. Clearly upset at missing out on the Idol action, Dicko exclaims "I REALLY like you!" and then holds up the back of his chemistry textbook where he's written DICKO 4 D.M 4 EVA over and over again to prove it. Then he says he wanted to see more big moments. "Ooh, bigger AND harder!" shrieks Kyle in excitement. Marcia tells Daniel not to show too much talent at once, in case he runs out altogether and has to mime for the rest of the series.
"If you start at 11 then where are you going to go?" she asks.
"12!" yells Holden, quite logically.
"The meter only goes to 11, doofus!" snaps Marcia.
Annoyed, Marcia puts her Idol meter back in her handbag, secretly wishing she had one that went up to 12. Then Kyle starts an open debate on the topic: "Scarves - The importance of the tassle in gender identification." It is generally agreed upon that tassles make a scarf, and its wearer, a bit girly. Kyle secretly wishes he'd called it a mass debate instead.
Adbreak time, and McDonald's has finally launched the name of its new NameIt Burger, which from now until the end of time will be... THE BACKYARD BURGER. Which, I dunno, kinda makes me think of this:
Back to the studio, and it's time for Husny "Maybe it's Maybelline" Thalib. I'm still not sure how Husny has managed to get this far, given that he can't actually sing and looks quite deranged. As unique as he is, I've managed to come up with the exact equation for creating Husny, should any of you young boffins out there wish to make your own version for domestic use.
Husny has decided on Lenny Kravitz for this evening's performance, but sadly he's chosen one of the few Lenny Kravtiz songs that wasn't a hit - If You Can't Say No. Ironically, I'd imagine most people wouldn't have trouble saying no to Husny in this particular outfit.
It's a train wreck of the highest order - he doesn't even sing for most of it, as he's arranged for the backing vocals to take care of most of all the pesky vocal stuff. What he's there for is the physical stuff, and WOO-HA! Check him out! He's thrusting his groin all over the place and winding up and down like a pole dancer with motion sickness. It's FABULOUS! Husny for PM! Now that Matt "Former favourite" Corby has taken to wearing pieces of haberdashery on national television, I'm right behind Husny. At least his stupid accessories SUIT him.
Kyle kicks off the constructive criticism by saying he hated it, it was the lamest, worst, most try hard rubbish he's ever heard, it was a pile of dribble that he couldn't even watch.
"I just didn't like it," he says, as everyone else yells back "NO SHIT."
Holden says he loved it, apart from the bit where Husny winked at the camera. Then he says he finds Husny strangely attractive. So maybe if he'd winked at Holden instead, he could have joined the post-show orgy that's slowly gathering momentum. Dicko reminds Husny the show is Australian Idol, not the Search for the Next Pussycat Doll. Pity that, cos Husny would have been a shoo-in, especially with his drunk poledancer skills. Marcia says she would have dug what Husny did if she didn't know the song. We all marvel once again at the unfailing irrelevance of her comments.
Finally it's time for Jacob "I swear I'm not Phil from Grinspoon, I don't even like ice in my drink" Butler, who's opted for middle-of-the-road anthem Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.
Jacob's clearly got an endless supply of quirky ties and vests, as it's all we've seen him wear since his first audition. Maybe his luggage got lost en route to Sydney and he's had to share a wardrobe with Andrew G. At any rate, he looks a bit uncomfortable tonight - shaking his head and blinking continuously - possibly because (as Audrey points out) he's too fat for his skinny jeans. Or are they Andrew G's skinny jeans? Never mind, if it helps him reach the high notes then good for him.
Dicko likens him to a dog chasing a car. That's nice.
"Are you aware of what we think of you?" Marcia asks, menacingly.
I wait on the edge of my seat for her to stand up, push the table over and yell "WE THINK YOU'RE A TALENTLESS BOOB WHO NEEDS TO FIND A NEW OBSSESSION, RAARRRRR!!!" but instead she says "We think the world of you." Oh. Right. I should have known it would be something like that.
Kyle says he needs a kick in the arse. Everyone in Australia wholeheartedly agrees, before we realise he's actually talking about Jacob, not himself. Holden says he chose a hard song ("It needs to be HARDER!" pants Kyle) and craps on about sliding up to the notes in the chordal lift with the melodic setback to the arrangement. Yo!
"Become the arrogant prick we know you are," Holden instructs.
"But I'm trying my hardest..." murmurs Kyle, before realising Holden was actually talking to Jacob.
And as the camera pulls back on the first proper Idol episode for 2007, and the credits begin to roll, we say goodnight and good luck to our happy bunch of six boys, who no doubt will be... HANG ON, IS JACOB BUTLER WEARING PINK SNEAKERS? That's worse than a tea towel, surely?
Right, now that's out of the way, let's get through all these other losers. And tonight there's 63 of them being whittled down to 24.
But the charade continues, particularly in the judging room where the four musketeers are pretending to argue over the finalists in a totally spontaneous, non set-up shot. The producers have clearly tried to inject as much portent as possible into the judging process this episode, as they've dressed the quartet in black, removed all the lightbulbs from the room and backlit the door so that every time someone walks through it looks like the second coming. Or a horror movie.
And so it begins. First to get the boot is some guy who looks like a caterpillar. Sorry fuzzy, it was never going to work. Then - shock horror - it's goodbye to Cleo, the girl who was "too beautiful for Idol". Turns out they were right.
Next on the chopping block is little Tiramisu, Holden's favourite dessert. We get a quick flashback of her first audition, in which she sang I Have Nothing, which means I get to do this:
Tiramisu gets out her bible and shows us all how awesome it is before blathering on about God and Jesus and the holy spirit, all of which causes Kyle to spit and froth and shake - he ALMOST reveals his true form but fortunately they cut to her solo performance of Stuck On You and he snaps out of it. Despite her tendency to YELL EVERYTHING, she gets through to the final 24. She trips out the door chattering about passion and soul and joy. Marcia has found a kindred spirit. The rest of us have just found a very sugary dessert.
Next up is Daniel, aka Werewolf Le Scarf, or as Audrey has tagged him, "Greaseman". They quickly flash back to his first audition where he apparently sang about butterflies and moonbeams and fairies. Does anyone else remember that? I don't remember that. It's horrific. What man sings about moonbeams, for fuck's sake? Anyway Scarfey is the first Idol hopeful to break out the "Singing is my life" quote this episode. This phrase is a useful one for all Idol hopefuls, as it can be used to answer almost any question from the judges.
HOLDEN: How much do you want this?
IDOLITE: I want it so bad. Singing is my life.
DICKO: What will you do if you don't get through in this competition?
IDOLITE: I couldn't do anything else. Singing is my life.
KYLE: What word describes your life, up to this point?
IDOLITE: Singing. Singing is my life.
Anyway, apparently Holden is "tickled pink" by Mr Wolf, and he gets through to the next round. I hope he packed enough scarves in his suitcase to see him through!
A few more randoms that no one's ever seen or heard of before get the arse, Jordan Paris says "I love us!" for about the 300 millionth time, and then Jess and Holly are called into the judging room together. They're both female, blonde, and from Mildura, so clearly it was too hard for the judges to tell them apart. We're treated to a short clip of Jess' solo performance, in which she sings a song about kissing a guy in places she'd better not name. After her audition song about making men's pants bulge with her cleavage, she's not exactly setting herself up as the girl next door. Well actually, who knows WHAT the girls are like next door in Mildura. She could be the town virgin for all I know.
By contrast, Holly sounds like a broken Sarah Blasko (who, it has to be said, sounds a bit broken already) and absolutely MURDERS The Beatles' Blackbird. If this song were a short film, the plot would be that Tina Turner meets Sarah Blasko in a dark alleyway and beats her over the head with a broken guitar, before screaming at Paul McCartney who is watching, terrified, from his apartment window. If there were any blackbirds in the vicinity they would have been scared to buggery by the first note and flown away to hang out with Daniel Le Werewolf and his fairies and moonbeams.
Anyway, both Mildurites get through. Yay for them. Yawn.
On to Mustard, the shearer with the red dreads, who apparently is best friends with Jordan Paris now. Probably because his hair matches Jordan's suit. Dicko gives us a typical arsehole build up that makes it look like Mustard's gotten through.
DICKO: "You've improved more than anyone in this competition mate..."
DICKO: "And we REALLY REALLY like what you're doing..."
DICKO: "And we think you're REALLY talented..."
DICKO: "And we'd LOVE to have you on the show..."
DICKO: "But we can't, sorry."
MUSTARD: "Right. Back to the shearing shed I guess."
OH DICKO, YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD. Marcia has a cry. Or does she? She actually looks like she's permanently crying, but I think she might have just stuck a diamante on her cheek. Cunning, Marcia, cunning.
Then there's our little crazy-kooky-Regina-Spektor-Lisa-Mitchell-I'm-so-quirky-cos-I-have-a-stupid-haircut-and-clothes-I-bought-at-the-market girl Breanna. Breanna says she wants to share her quirkiness with Australia, and wants Idol to "embrace something different". Ahhh Breanna. Don't you understand? We don't WANT something different. Unless you're Bobby Flynn, and then we do. But otherwise, we want divas and pop boys, and all you quirky ballet-flat wearing weirdos can find a record deal together on whatever planet will have you. Anyway she gets in. Surprise. Time for a Kyle quote:
Then there's Dylan, the young Mick Jagger meets Arctic Monkeys lookalike, doing his solo performance of The Cure's Lovecats. And it's kinda cute. But I have the constant urge to give him some Ritalin, which I don't think is quite the reaction one's Idol is supposed to inspire in one. Dicko tells him he's a good comedy act, but asks him what type of musical act he wants to be, upon which Dylan hangs his head and promptly goes to sleep for about 10 minutes. Suddenly, someone off stage pokes him with a cane and he bolts upright and stammers "I dunno!" All of which means it's no surprise at all when the judges tell him it's all over now, baby blue. (See, a Bob Dylan reference in the bit about Dylan! How good am I? Just making sure you're awake)
ADBREAK TIME, and Jessica Mauboy is telling everyone how Rexona for Women helps her to stay dry in the spotlight. Ha! What spotlight? She'd be lucky to bathe in the dim glow of a dashboard light at this point in her career. Don't need no deodorant for that - ask any cabbie.
Moving right along, and Carl the sexy trumpeter is the next to go through, shortly followed by his ex girlfriend Cheray. Pardon? Yes, his ex girlfriend. That should be fun when it comes to living in the Idol house.
Finally it's Jordan Paris' time to shine (although he has managed to get into almost every third shot this episode, so it's not like he hasn't gotten his fair share of airtime).
"I LOVE US!" he yells again, as the rest of Australia yells back "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!"
"I feel like God walking through here," he says as he glides through the holy glowing door in his white evangelical suit and matching bandana. Seriously, what is with the bandanas?
But actually, I think I love Jordan. If he were cheese, he'd be a brie. In fact, IS he a cheese?
Holden asks him how he reckons he did.
"I'm in, I can feel it!" says Jordan.
"I love us! I seriously love us!"
Ok. I'm not in love with him anymore. Too much bandana plus catchphrase equals annoying. Holden feels the same way, and breaks the bad news that Mr Orange will not be joining the Idol train in 07. Back to NIDA with you, boy.
Sadly we then say goodbye to Anthony - the weirdo who turned up to his audition in a wheelchair with a bandaged head. He's been gadding about in Sydney in a fur stole singing songs from Jesus Christ Superstar, and turns up to the judging panel dressed as Booger from Revenge of the Nerds. See Breanna - THIS is quirky. Unfortunately for Anthony it's not the kind of quirky the judges actually like, and he's pushed off quick smart.
Shannon Noll Chad, "Thank God I'm a country boy". Holden gets out his big book of Idol judge catchphrases and says "Do you think Australia is ready for a country Australian Idol?" Um, remember this, Holden:
No, neither do we. SO THE ANSWER IS OBVIOUSLY NO. Anyway, they let him in. Or they kick him out. I can't remember because I don't care.
Then there's Jasmine, the Miserable Cow from the Northern Territory, whose apparent dislike of Daniel Johns led her to have a tanty on Sunday night, and whose apparent lack of any talent whatsoever led her to do a terrible solo performance of Lean On Me in which she leaned too hard on every note and squashed them. She says Idol has been an "experience to the max".
She follows up this insightful comment with an eloquent: "Youse guys, youse are important people and youse know what youse are talkin' about." That might be true, but no one knows what YOU'RE talking about, love. Dicko tells her when they first met they had something special going on, but now they've fallen out of love with her and it's over, she's dumped, stop calling, it looks desperate. Oh and can he have his black T shirt back now please kthanx. The Coldplay rip off emotional piano music starts playing as she breaks down in tears, apologising for... well, being a miserable cow, I guess... but as soon as she leaves the room she turns into A WOMAN SCORNED.
She then bursts into a stream of expletives that would make Eazy-E blush, and we leave her at the bottom of a dingy stairwell somewhere on the Fox studios backlot, along with her career. One day, her children will be so proud.
Right, to speed this up a little bit here:
And then it's delightful Matt Corby, the winner of Australian Idol 2007. They show a flashback to his first audition in which he sang Superstition, which means I get to do this:
It occurs to me that Matt looks rather like a young Jake Gyllenhaal. It also occurs to me that Matt might be classified as "barely legal". I start to feel a little bit dirty. But not as dirty as I feel after Kyle comes out with this:
Well! I was GOING to say. I mean, who would have been the odd one out in that equation? Oh dear, now I'm thinking about experiencing a young Matt Corby. Or possibly a young Jake Gyllenhaal. Or both at the same time... Anyway yada yada yada, Matt's through. Of course he's through, he's going to win the bloody thing.
Let's cut to the chase again here:
And then it's down to the final two places. First up: the chicks.
In the blue corner is Cyndi, the young mum who no one would remember at all if it weren't for the fact that she is a young mum. In the red corner is Rosie Ribbons, the former UK idol with a name so ridiculous it's only outshone by Sally Van Der Zwart's. And DING! DING! IT'S ON!
Cyndi gets in early by saying something boring about her son, following it up with a double uppercut of dullness with a solo rendition of Sarah McLachlan's Angel. It's a splendid start to the match! But Rosie ducks and weaves and comes back fighting with her version of Stand By Me. Who can be more cliched and dull? It's a fight to the death, but in the end Marcia does some tricky maths ("There are 24 spots, and there's 22 people out there, and there's only one female spot left, and there's two of you...") which ends up knocking them both unconscious with boredom. Rosie is declared the winner by default.
Round two: The men. And it's Dave, the swimming teacher slash singer vs James "I look heaps like Wil Anderson, eh?". Clearly this is James' round - he's young, he's got the look (despite it being the look of an utter nobhead 'comedian' that everyone hates) and he's charismatic. As opposed to Dave, who is a dad and looks a bit like a stalker.
Dave gets the first punch in with a rather awesome acoustic guitar version of Radiohead's Karma Police, scoring extra damage points for choosing a slightly offbeat song. But what's that? A red vinyl shirt?
It's the perfect weak point for James to exploit, and he does, coming back strong with his acoustic guitar version of some song I've never heard of before. Double points for offbeat-ness! Holden asks them why they want to win, and BAM, James pulls out the "Singing is my life!" quote. Punch drunk and teetering on the spot, Dave can only manage a lame "I think we both desire the result equally", which sounds like a Youtube announcement from Kevin07. Clearly James has won this match - but as he pulls back his fist to deliver the knockout punch, the judges deliver the verdict: Dave has snared the final spot. What the bloody hell? Did they just say the psycho swimming teacher in the red vinyl shirt has taken the final spot in the top 24? And Jordan Paris didn't make it? Ok, just checking.
Well there you have it kids, we have our final 24. Sunday night sees our first group of six battle it out: Carl the bugle boy, Jack Sparrow, Jacob "I've been on X Factor" Butler, Werewolf Le Scarf, some dude called Junior I can't remember and your Australian Idol for 2007, Matt Corby.
Hang on - did they just say they'll be screening Idol EVERY night next week? Oh. Dear. God. I'm rooted.
I might as well mention at this point that Jordan has his own website on which he claims to "live life like a musical". To steal a joke from Audrey: Unless he either a) regularly sings the praises of Jellicles whilst licking himself and strutting, b) likes to sing about goatherds while climbing mountains in a nun's habit or c) gets about on rollerskates thinking he's a train, he is NOT living his life like any sort of musical I know. On the other hand, I did have to sit through the steaming pile of self-indulgence that was Everything's F**ked the other day, so if Jordan either likes TV, pizza and beer, knows how to use email or has Hepatitis C, he might be telling the truth after all. Would explain his skin colour at the very least.
Holden addresses the troops in the hotel lobby to inform them that the judges have overbooked the Idol aeroplane, and 40 of them need to transfer to another flight - to Losersville. Anyone slightly overweight or less than attractive is immediately shoved into "the bottom 40" and made to "sing for survival" in front of the judges.
Some dude called Atilio has an irony bypass and attemps a bit of You'll Never Walk Alone before walking alone, off the stage. Good one mate. Next time why don't you try a few bars of I'm Not as Good as I Sounded in My First Audition and really blow them away? Bye, Atilio.
Carl, the boogie woogie bugle boy from Company HOTT, tries a bit more Michael Buble (hmm, I'm starting to get bored now) and scrapes through by virtue of wearing a nice suit and doing some charismatic finger clicking. Oh, and being hot.
He does better than John of Adelaide, who gets rejected for something like the 35th time in Australian Idol history, and storms off crying "You spend all your life fighting for it, and this is how it goes. THIS IS MY LIFE!" Really? Being rejected once a year by some faded former pop stars and one fat radio host is your life? Forget singing mate, write a sitcom.
Off to an adbreak, and oh look, just for something different - it’s that bloody Pascall sweets commercial with the annoying mum and her strange Holden-like offspring. How amusing. Haven’t seen that ad about, ooh, A BAZILLION TIMES ALREADY.
And we’re back, and I reckon it’s about time for a quote, this time from a dim looking blonde who obviously got a two-for-one special on that irony bypass with Atilio:
Poor thing, I hope her brain copes with the extra neuron power required for that sort of thing (ie: thought).
Next up to audition is Daniel, aka the werewolf in a scarf, who takes us all back to the 90s with a bit of Badloves action. Which song? Come on, they only HAD one song. Green Limousine, obviously. He gets through.
The 90s theme continues with Marnie, who unfortunately thinks that doing 4 Non Blondes’ What’s Going On is going to get her anywhere. She thinks wrong.
Then there’s Sarah, who looks scarily like an Olsen twin (but without the crack addict eye makeup), doing Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. The song, I mean, not OUR boogie woogie bugle boy, Carl. Not yet, anyway.
She’s followed by someone called Sally Van Der Zwart. Poor girl – she’ll never get her name in lights, what with all this concern over global warming. Can you imagine the cost of all those energy saver bulbs?
Andrew does a bit of Panic at the Disco, and panics. Next time try a song with even MORE lyrics per bar, mate, it’ll be much easier. Bye.
Mark, who apparently is an "expert" by virtue of having been in some crap band for a long time, starts off brilliantly by coughing into the microphone, and then follows it up with some screaming that is supposed to be a rendition of Evie. For some reason, everyone is impressed.
Time for another quote. Dicko?
OK, I know that’s not the greatest quote ever, but the guy he barked it at looked an awful lot like Wil Anderson, so it made me happy.
Yawn. Anyone else bored this episode? Yep, me too. Maybe I’ll have a sweetie, I’ve got this overwhelming urge for a Pascall marshmallow... Whoops, hang on, Holden and Kyle are having a fight! What the?
HOLDEN: "You work in a radio station, you enormous tool!"
KYLE: "You have your own weird old man opinion, I have mine."
DICKO: "Shut the fuck up."
No idea what that was about, but it was excellent. Right, let’s slide back into boringsville again with Shamara, who kills the judges loudly with Killing Me Softly. She takes approximately three hours to get to the good bit of the chorus, by which time they’ve already canned her.
"I have a beautiful voice and my nerves get the better of me every time," she wails.
Aw, that’s a pity then, isn’t it? Maybe you should consider a career in Bad Timing.
There’s quick shot of Jordan Paris punching the camera (perhaps he saw his own reflection?) and then we move onto Husny, everyone’s favourite eyeliner-wearing Jack Sparrow impersonator from Melbourne, who dispels all those gay rumours by singing Madonna. Good work, Husny! Next week you should try some Dorothy Garland or something.
Goody gumdrops, it’s time for another adbreak, and this time we’re treated to that fabulous envelope-pushing masterpiece that is the current Lynx deodorant campaign. Spray yourself with Lynx, and turn every woman within a five metre radius into a hamster-faced, gyrating porn star slut. What a GROUNDBREAKING concept. And so funny too! Makes me want to go out and buy my boyfriend a Nando’s chicken dinner.
Still, it's better than that one for Tim Tams where some stupid woman turns down a free wardrobe full of designer clothes and some hot genie sex for a $3 packet of biscuits. Christ, we women are easily pleased, aren't we?
We’re back, and down to 77 young people whose dreams are more than likely about to be dashed. Bring it on! There haven’t been nearly enough tears this episode.
Holden divides them all into mixed groups of four, and gives them a choice of three crap songs to learn straight from the MIX FM "best of the 70s, 80s, 90s and today" playlist: Boyz 2 Men’s End of the Road, ABBA’s Knowing Me Knowing You and Silverchair’s Straight Lines.
Clearly anyone with half a brain would choose Boyz 2 Men, which allows for easy harmonisation and gives everyone a chance to get their Aguilera on in the chorus. For some reason however, most groups seem to pick Silverchair, which turns out to be an instant disaster for just about everyone. Particularly Jasmine, the pride of the Northern Territory, who chucks a major dummy spit on the grounds that she doesn’t like the person who wrote the lyrics.
She and her group give Holden a quick demo in their hotel room. Time for a quote? I thought so.
And he just came from the toilets in the lobby.
Jasmine continues her anti-Daniel Johns rant. Holden is unimpressed.
I’m not exactly sure who she’d be taking the title from there, but it seems to have the desired effect on Jasmine, who decides to quit the competition. She does this by going to each of her team mate’s rooms at 3am and announcing "Youse are on yer own, I’m going home." They all struggle to care, except for Arctic Monkey boy Dylan, who begs her to reconsider.
"Nup, it’s a stupid song, stupid range, stupid everything, I’m going home," she yawns.
"FUCK OFF THEN, YOU MISERABLE COW!" Australia yells, but clearly Holden recognises the superb bit of train-wreck TV this episode will be lacking if Jasmine doesn’t turn up to the next audition, and so tries to talk her into staying.
"Today is about courage and guts," he says, and I wait on the edge of my seat for him to add the obvious next part of the sentence: "And you’ve obviously got PLENTY of those." Sadly, he doesn’t. Sadder still, Jasmine gets over herself and drags her miserable cow arse to the auditions. (Hey, I'm only saying what Holden said I’d say).
Her group is first up. Predictably enough, they are shit. Kyle stops them and says he couldn't stand listening to one more second. Holden says they are crap. Dicko accuses the Arctic Monkey of not giving a shit, and
Shannon Noll Chad of being so wooden that he "puts the tree into country". Zing! Then they all get through to the next round.
Given that this episode has so far been a 1990s extravaganza, I shall borrow a phrase from the period: "Exsqueeze me? Baking powder?"
Dylan goes and has a lie down under a table, while Jasmine continues her whingeing.
COMMUNITY HEALTH WARNING: If YOU feel you have been inappropriately touched by Jasmine’s music, call our free support line on 1800-MISERABLE-COW.
The crappy group auditions continue, with Silverchair proving to be a nightmare for everyone. Every year there’s at least one Idolite who forgets the lyrics on stage and tries to make up for it with charm, by substituting the words with "I’ve forgotten the lyrics, la la la, Ohhh yesss I’ve forgotten the words..." Note to Idol hopefuls 2008: THIS DOES NOT WORK.
Dicko sticks his pen in his ear, Holden goes AWOL and Kyle gets on stage and stands there with a depressed look on his face. All in all, it's going well.
Hot trumpeter Carl's group has spent all night coming up with crappy choreography but has forgotten to actually learn the song, and does a very half-arsed version of Knowing Me, Knowing You.
"It’s the best I can doooo," sings Carl.
"Hey, you had that operation too?" yells Atilio from offstage.
After all of this mind-boggling talent comes Werewolf Le Scarf and his group, who have sensibly chosen the only song with a singable melody, End of the Road. The judges look on wistfully as the kids pull out a top notch performance (ie: top notch means they remembered the lyrics and sang in tune. Wouldn't have thought that was beyond the grasp of most singers, but there you go.)
So there you have it. Some were good, most were shit, and so passes another audition day at Idol HQ.
Stay tuned for the next update of Monday night's episode, in which hopefully we'll get to up our Stevie, Whitney and Jeff counts.
Oh, and we get to see someone screaming "I hate you mark Holden!"
Should be a cracker.
What a great start to the show! Let's move on to even better things in Darren (or is it Damien? I can't quite read my writing because I was shaking with fear at the time). Darren sings George Michael's Faith just like Jonothan Davis from Korn would, if Jonothan Davis were trying to do an impression of what Marilyn Manson would sound like if he ever joined Yothu Yindi. Needless to say, it isn't the most awesome combination ever. Kyle, aka Captain Obvious, brands him "different".
But not quite as different as Elizabeth, aka "Wildcat", who's up next. Dressed like a librarian whose idea of a hot night in involves a box of lite Tim Tams and the latest Harry Potter book, she's about as far from "wildcat" as you can get. She hands out a few CDs to the judges, explaining that she wrote the songs, but not the music. That is, she wrote the lyrics, but her teacher from TAFE did the music. That is to say, her teacher adapted some Elton John songs for her, and she put her new lyrics to them. So really, she's basically just gone and rewritten some Elton John songs. Then she tells everyone she's sorry she had to leave her house at home, cos it got water damaged and she had no insurance. What house? The cardboard house she wore on her head to sing Give Me A Home Among the Gum Trees at the local RSL's karaoke competition a month ago. Then she announces she's got 90 cats at her house (presumably not the water damaged cardboard one) before launching into a medley of Leader of the Pack, Boogie Wonderland and Heartbreak Hotel.
What. The. Fuck? Let's let Kyle handle this one:
Too right. Time for Cody, the serial flasher, who has managed to bare his arse on several seasons of Idol already - and he's clearly not stopping now!
"That reminds me, I must post that letter," says Dicko as Cody bends over to give us a bit of Air on a G String.
Moving along and...no, it can't be! We haven't even had the first adbreak yet! But it is! IT IS!!!
Some scrawny redneck has cracked out the Hallelujah, yee-haw! Excellent stuff. Let's move on to Tarisai, a rather cute looking black chick that Holden immediately dubs "Tiramisu".
"Oh, look at the lovely way she just greeted us!" he marvels.
Yes Holden, she can speak English you know. And HOW - she even belts out a bit of I Have Nothing to prove it. You know what that means...
She's certainly got a voice, there's just... a little too much of it. She's really just yelling, let's face it. The judges lose their tiny minds over little Tiramisu but I just want her to have a cup of tea and a nice lie down. Needless to say she gets through to Sydney. Great, there's even more Whitney ahead of us.
Then there's country boy Alexander with a charming song about a girl and her "honky tonk badonka-donk". Somehow, Marcia doesn't find this as offensive as Jess from Mildura's song about making men's pants bulge with her cleavage. Clearly it's all about the rhyme - if only Jess had sung about how "their pantsy-wants start to bulgey-wulge", Marcia probably would have called her "grrl" and said "That's what I'm talkin' BOUT" and stuff. Oh well, live and learn. Holden?
Right on. Then there's Daniel (or is it Donkey from Shrek?) who almost gives his mobile number out on national television before embarrassing himself in front of the judges with an awful rendition of something horrific. I think we can safely say that even if he HAD given his number out on national TV, it might not have rung for a long time. Kyle?
Ouch. Next up is Adam, who looks like a tomato in a viking wig. He describes his voice with one word: "love". The rest of Australia describes it with another word: "crap". He sings Farnham's You're The Voice and proves conclusively that he isn't.
Then the producers decide it's about time we had someone with a modicum of talent, so they give us Rosie Ribbons. Yes, her name is Rosie Ribbons. She's cute, blonde, 23 and apparently came sixth in UK Idol. SO SHE'S A LOSER. Just getting that straight. She sings something about butterflies, it's pretty, Marcia says she "has game", no one knows what she means, we all move on.
Then there's Benjamin, who Holden automatically dubs "Benji Mac". Tiramisu gives him a sad wave and a knowing nod from the corner. Benji is 16 and sounds like he's just run three blocks for the bus and is being forced to sing for his fare. He'll probably be a big hit with the little girls.
Next up we meet Jason, who describes himself as being "from the ghetto", which, in Jason's world, is the suburb of Canterbury. Never mind, he's singing a SEXAY song, and Marcia is not happy.
"Let me lick you up and down, til you say stop," woos Jason.
"Let me play with your body baby, make you real hot."
Jason climbs up on the judging table but Marcia's moral outrage is at maximum power, and she engages her Marcial Kombat power move - tipping the table over and breaking all the mugs, as well as Jason's sense of self esteem.
Don't mess with Marcia, dude.
Moving along, and next we have Daniel, who looks like a werewolf in a scarf. Apparently I'm the only one to think so though, as all the judges positively wet themselves over "his look". He lists one of his musical idols as Stevie Wonder. That counts as one.
Daniel cracks out a bit of Jimi and does Little Wing, which sends Marcia into raptures (because, you know, she's the only black musician on the panel and therefore practically IS Jimi Hendrix). He sounds pretty sexy. Marcia says he brough Jimi into the 21st century. Yeah, cos we'd all forgotten about Hendrix until now. Thank god for Daniel. Anyway, he gets through. Yay.
Next up is Lyell Adonis. Yes, that's his real name. And no, it's not a mistake - the boy is HOTT. But what's this? Oh for fuck's sake, seriously?
If you guessed Hallelujah, you get a lollipop. Honestly, what is with that goddamn song? Even Jon Anchovy's done it.
Anyway, Adonis is ace, we love him, he's through.
Then there's a series of blokes dressed as women, including a guy who called himself "Cher-ific" ("Hor-ific" might have been closer to the truth) who does what else but Turn Back Time. Honestly, Husny the Jack Sparrow lookalike from Melbourne looks more like Cher than this guy.
And from a bloke in drag pretending to straddle a cannon and sing to sailors, where else can we go but to an actual navy recruit - Carl, the trumpeter. And ladies, he can blow my trumpet any time. HELLO Carl. Apparently his last audience was in Iraq, but given that Marcia's currently got a hankering for flipping over furniture he might find this a bit tougher. He sings a bit of Michael Buble. He is hot. The judges say something. He is still hot. He gets through to Sydney. He is hot.
I'm just going to take a quick break here to say ARE WE GOING TO BE FORCED TO ENDURE THAT FUCKING PASCALL SWEETIES AD EVERY 15 MINUTES UNTIL THE END OF THE SERIES, BECAUSE IF WE DO I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO SOMETHING DRASTIC. It's the one where the mum is singing in the kitchen and her precocious child judges her efforts, Holden style. Every time I hear that fucking woman singing "Meeee-eee-eeeee!" I know how the judges feel. Anyway, she's not a (shoulder) patch on the chick in this Pascall's ad:
Moving along, and some mong has decided to sing Mariah Carey's Hero for about the 500 millionth time this series (and we're only at episode four!), prompting Holden to hara-kiri himself. Hooray! Oh, he was just pretending. Never mind.
Then it's time to say hello to a familiar face, with the return of Angela "dog rough"!
And this time she's brought her sister along. They do a duet of Lean On Me and actually, they're not even that bad. Really. Have I lost my mind? Let's see what Dicko thinks of the situtation:
It's quite likely they're the latter, as neither of them will stop singing except to comment on what a ridiculous name "Dicko" is, or to collapse in laughter. Somewhere, Angela's nanna is missing her medication. Any final words, Dicko?
Speaking of familiar faces, Cindy the BLOODY BORING AS ALL GET OUT "mother of two" is back again for her third go. She's been traipsing around the country getting rejected in various cities. Doesn't she have kids to look after or something? She sings Black Velvet. I wish I knew how she went, but I was so bored I fell asleep about the point she got to the "little boy's smile". Holden proclaims her "dull", claiming the Captain Obvious title from Kyle.
I only properly wake up at the next adbreak, in which I am subjected to a full screen photograph of a pile of cat's vomit daubed with avocado... Oh no wait, sorry, it's the $9.90 chicken caesar salad at Cafe Crappo. Whatever it is, it's shocked me right awake, as we hoon on into the final segment.
There's Jareth, who valiantly tries a bit of Mika's Grace Kelly and almost explodes (nice try dickhead, why don't you give The Darkness a go next year?), and Junior who is hot to trot, even if he is singing Thirsty Merc. Shudder. There's also Marty, who is 20. And hot.
Ok, is Sydney where all hot boys go to grow up or something? Shouldn't there be some law about even distribution of hotness throughout the country? I may put that to Kevin '07.
Anyway it's finally time for our last auditionee for 2007! Hurrah! Meet 16 year old Matt, who looks like a cross between Dean Geyer and Hamish Blake. Which, as we know, equals HOTT and CUTE! Matt brings the "grrr" and "awww" factors together in a way science previously never thought possible. And guess what song he does?
Yes. Oh yes he does.
But it's not all tragic - he plays it on his guitar, and he's a pretty hot guitarist for 16. Oh Matt, oh yeah.
Clearly Matt's already won this whole thing so there's probably no point in coming back for the next episode...but I shall anyway! Onward and upward, and thank GOD for Sydney!
Ah, the Simpsonizer. You have GOT to try this thing. I especially like how Kyle turned out a bit like George Michael. THE SIMPSONIZER NEVER LIES.
So, it's back to Melbourne to meet our first contestant, Andrew. I didn't have time to Simponize him, but if I did he'd probably turn out a bit like Ralph Wiggum, aged 32. He sings Amazing Grace. It is not amazing.
"I've been singing ever since I was three," he says. What IS amazing is that no one has ever asked him to stop.
Apparently Andrew's been serenading passers by on the street recently, and all of them have told him how wonderful he sounds.
"Where's this?" asks Dicko.
"In the street," says Andrew.
"What, the street outside that deaf school?"
Nice, Dicko, nice.
Moving right along and YES! OH YES! WOO HOO!
I don't know who he was or whether he got through to Sydney, but he sang Superstition and that puts Stevie ahead of Jeff and Whitney by one. PLACE YOUR BETS NOW!
Steven's up next with a bit of You Give Love a Bad Name. He's rather creatively decided to Give the Chorus a Bad Word, which he screams out rather loudly. Needless to say, Marcia is unimpressed.
Then there's the obligatory beatboxing duos, Zeb and Joseph and Tej and Esan. They're both crap, but the judges pretend to be highly entertained by their gurgling and spitting. Guys - didn't you get the memo? This year is guitar year. Beatboxing year was 2005.
It seems this year is also electric keyboard year (I know, try to remain calm, it surely can't last), with every third contestant whipping out their Korg faster than uncle Alfonso at cousin Connie's wedding reception. Jared (who looks rather like a mutated version of Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice) is the next contestant to oblige, and gives us a bit of what he likes to call his "rapsicles". This turns out to be a bit of wailing over some tragic piano playing, and has nothing whatsoever to do with rap, or icicles.
We haven't had a Dicko quote yet, have we? How about this one:
He's followed by Natalie who, fortunately, doesn't look a thing like Michael Keaton but does seem to own the ugliest vinyl jacket in Australia. This wouldn't really be a problem, except that she happens to be wearing it. She also happens to own the biggest electric keyboard in Australia, and once the semi trailer carrying it has dropped it off in the audition room and it has been winched into place, she starts doing an Alicia Keys impression on it. Apparently it's an original song. Apparently this is also the performance that has been touted on the ads all week as having taken the judges' collective breath away. Unfortunately not away for long enough to hospitalise Kyle for the rest of the series, but enough to make Dicko pull out the "I think you can win this competition" line for the first time this year. He follows it up by saying she's the "total package". Oh no. Kiss of death for Natalie, buh-bye!
Next up is Karla, who's rocked up to the audition with her mum. Oh sorry, I meant performance coach and media adviser. As she comes out of the audition room speechless with excitement, mum is there to put the words into her mouth.
"I just feel...wow, I feel..."
("Say it's my dream, it's my dream...")
"Oh it's my dream, and it's just, wow, it's..."
("Say it's overwhelming...")
"It's so overwhelming, and...um..."
("Say my mum is my inspiration...go on, say mum is my inspiration...say it like we practised...LIKE WE PRACTISED!!")
Good onya Karla. Life's so much easier when someone else comes up with your opinions for you. Kyle would know - up until last week he'd been borrowing Dicko's for a whole year!
Next up is Donna. Donna says she's 30. Donna is clearly full of shit.
Sporting a red suede fedora, a low cut top that reveals her sunspots, and a tragic figure hugging outfit, this ain't mutton dressed as lamb, this is mutton dressed as Donna from Melbourne. And that's far worse.
"I fooled youse all, I'm actually 44!" she yells triumphantly as she walks out of the audition room. Given that the roughest estimate of her age came in at about 57, we're not quite sure how she actually fooled anyone, but she seems to be happy and that's the important thing. And we won't ever be seeing her on television again, which is even MORE important.
Then there's Julie, who starts off well by announcing she's sent her demo CD to every major label and radio station in Australia and been rejected by all of them. Oh goody, can't wait to hear your stuff, Jules. On her entry form she's listed her occupation as "music person", which I think we can all assume means "unemployed but REALLY wants to work in a CD shop". She does a truly awful version of Always on My Mind with a bit of interpretative dance thrown in, and ends on a high note that could cut glass.
Time for a Dicko quote:
Brilliantly summed up. But Kyle's not to be outdone:
Sadly, Jules doesn't get through, although I look forward to seeing her in next year's off-Broadway production of Vinegar Tits - The Musical.
Then there's Greggy (yes, that's his real name) who looks like Lou Diamond Phillips' gay halfbreed cousin. Kyle describes him as "boring and weird". Elegantly put. Although he doesn't look quite as weird as Andrew G, who we cut to sitting in front of a ferris wheel in a hoodie that looks like it's been thrown up on by a muppet on a Smarties binge. The technicolour yawn has never been so smartly displayed.
Moving on to Jack, who's dressed like he's on his way to an 1800s American colonial funeral on the goldfields, and who sings "a poppy rocky original" with lyrics about running, or guns, or something. Maybe he's singing about how he lost his time machine and can't get back to the Wild West where he belongs. Whatever, Kyle says he likes his look, and he gets a trip to Sydney.
Then there's Jack II, who bored everyone in 2006 by being a bit pudgy and singing a crap song. This year he's lost weight and buffed up, but he's still singing the same crap song. Pity about that. Marcia tells him he needs to consider the melody and rhythm of the song he's singing. He asks her to write that down so he can take it back to his singing teacher. A word of advice, Jack: If your singing teacher needs to be TOLD to teach you about melody and rhythm, it's time to get a new one.
By this time I'm getting a bit antsy - only one Superstition, not a skerrick of Whitney and hardly any gold Dicko quotes. What's going on here? Is Melbourne sucking everyone's will to live? I mean, more than usual?
Speaking of the will to live, here's Anthony, who looks like he's full of it. The will to live, I mean. He's got a bandaged head, a leg in a cast and he's getting around in a wheelchair - the result of an "altercation with a bouncy castle". Um, excuse me? You fought a bouncy castle and you LOST? Anyway he's surprisingly good and he looks a bit like a sexy young Cary Elwes. Until he takes off his head bandage, after which he looks a bit like Adam Gilchrist.
He gets through - can't wait to see how he's going to cope with the choreographed dance routines in Sydney. It'll be WHEELY interesting to see how he copes with that. Har har.
Then there's Matthew, who looks like a cross between an extra from the Addams Family and one of the members of Kings of Leon. I don't know what he sang, I was too busy cowering behind the couch.
Next up is Siki Daha. After approximately seven and a half hours of Holden paying out his name in various ways ("Sicky? Ah-HA! Mickey? Sicky? Gahhh! Argh!! Dicki?") he rips out a lovely bit of Norah Jones and puts everyone in their place. He's bringin' siki back. Daha.
Finally we leave the cesspool of broken dreams that is Melbourne and move on to Mildura, where approximately four people have turned up to audition (hey, there's fruit to pick! Leave them alone). One of these is Jesse, who launches into an extremely creepy song about cleavage, and rubbing up against people in a crowd "to feel the bulges in their pants start to rise".
Insert uncomfortable silence here.
Insert Marcia's moral outrage here.
Whoever told Jesse this song was a good idea - GOOD FOR YOU! It really set her apart from the crowd as the one creepy, perverted country girl I'm sure she wants to be nationally recognised as for the rest of her life.
Clearly turned on by all this talk of bulging pants and cleavage, Dicko tells her she's got "one of the best voices we've heard all week" and sends her packing to Sydney. Make sure you pack your wonderba, Jesse.
Obviously she's the sole person in Mildura with any musical talent, so we piss off to Tasmania to meet Dwayne, who turns out to be the sole person in Tasmania with any musical talent. Good onya Dwayne! He plays the guitar and sings some sort of ballad. Holden gets emotional. Marcia says it was "one of the best voices I've heard in years". So screw you, Damien Leith, you didn't deserve to win.
Back to Melbourne (sigh, I know, it's almost over, don't worry) and there's a guy dressed as a tree singing a protest song. No one protests when Kyle attacks him with a chainsaw. Then there's a guy dressed as spiderman who's obviously ripped his Spidey suit in an unfortunate place as they've had to blur out his crotch. Maybe he was exposing a bit too much of his fifth leg? Or had he leaked a bit of his webbing fluid? Maybe he's been hanging out with Jesse from Mildura and her cleavage a bit too much. Whatever it is, he doesn't get through.
Then there's Husny, who looks like a cross between Prince, Captain Jack Sparrow and Robert Smith. Appealing, no? But actually he sounds ok. Well, better than the tree, anyway. Holden labels him "borderline goonie" and lets him through to Sydney, saying it will be fascinating to watch him crash and burn. Well, there's confidence for you.
Finally we have Jacob, a scruffy young lad who will obviously fill out the Chris Murphy "sweat-and-yell" role for this year. He announces he'll be singing Oasis' Don't Look Back in Anger.
"FUCK OFF!" I and my Idol sidecar Raoul Duke yell in unison.
He doesn't sing so much as yell, and despite having a guitar hung around his neck he doesn't so much play it as tap it listlessly with his fingers.
"What, a guitar, you say? Oh no no no, this here's me old tap box. Me grand daddy gave it to me when I was just seven years old. Funny - everyone thinks it's a guitar! I dunno what those strings are for, I've never used them...."
Obviously blinded by lack of sleep, Dicko tells him he's just what the judges are looking for. Somehow, Screamy-Taps McScruff gets through to Sydney.
In the absence of any more gold Dicko quotes, have one from another random crying contestant:
She may not be, but Melbourne certainly has been this year, and one with a crap punchline at that. The entire city may as well be a knock knock joke as told by a three year old after that tragic effort. Even Adelaide wasn't that bad.
Tune in again soon, when the BC brings you Monday's episode 4 wrap up - I think there's another Whitney on the way!