The tension is unbearable.
Which, I fear, may describe the rest of the evening.
So in order not to commence this profound historical experience in a negative frame of mind, I have opened a bottle of rose from the Alto Adige.
For those who have never slept with an Italian or believed anything one has ever told them, the Alto Adige is the part of Northern Italy that isn’t very far from Austria.
Which is the country where Hitler was born.
The contestants appear. Syesha looks sophisticated. Little David looks like he has been styled by Carson Kressley’s first boyfriend.
It lasted a week.
Little David commences a cappella. His hair is pointing towards Mexico. “And So It Goes” is a song for someone who has seen a little in life.
Little David sings it like a seven-year-old who has been told to learn some Walt Whitman and recite it the next day.
The notes are there. The notability has gone online and booked a last-minute flight to Hawaii.
Now it’s Syesha.
Here’s the thing. I know she has sung this Alicia Keys song on Canadian television before. So Randy’s claims of inspiration for having chosen this are as genuine as his claim to have only a thirty-eight inch bust.
The chorus overwhelms her half way through. The performance sounded very much like the original. This is not a good thing.
Moreover, this was predicted by a certain Pond Resident just a couple of days ago.
David Cook appears. He has a sense of humor. So much so that he is able to let his eyes give away just how little he would like to be here.
He starts slowly and lyrically. And then it speeds up towards something a little more raspy.
I am so stunned I have to lie on my sofa in the fetal position. Which is like the fecal position, except lying down.
As I turn my head towards my surround sound I am just in time for the obligatory valedictory high note.
Big David doesn’t exactly hit all the notes Roberta did. Exactly.
However, his self-presentation puts the Stanislavsky Method to shame.
He has decided to be that plumber that everyone wants to shag on “Desperate Housewives”. And he plays it beautifully.
Little David returns with an attempt to sing something from the 21st Century.
This performance is a little like watching someone have sex after reading a handbook.
A handbook on car maintenance.
I cannot decide what is the greater tragedy- watching this poor, unguided youth fight his deep discomfort, or imagining his father’s wrath should the youth fail to win this increasingly discomforting competition.
Syesha chooses something from fifty years ago, Peggy Lee’s “Fever”. She sings well but instead of selling the song, she decides to sell sex.
Who does she think she is? Ashlee Simpson? Or perhaps Jessica Simpson?
Whichever, there was certainly no need for Jessica Rabbit.
Now for David Cook. And, er, something that has been accused of being Christian Rock.
Big David has switched songs at a late stage.
Ah, but he has his crucifix- the white Gibson.
He has a problem with length. How absurd to claim this is a singing competition when the commercials last five minutes and the singing lasts ninety seconds.
Cookus Interruptus. (Will someone please translate for Little David?)
Now for the filthy-footed producers’ choices.
Little David and Dan Fogelberg’s “Longer”.
I once spent two hours trapped in the deepest elevator shaft in London. This ninety seconds brought back the slight bilious aftertone of that experience. This was enough to make an asthmatic look forward to an attack.
His singing is breathier than a sixty-year-old hooker. His performance is as forgettable as the five minutes you spent with her. Which included four minutes looking for the right change.
Simon Cowell tells David he has done enough.
I have to agree. He has done enough to set music back at least forty years.
I blame the parents.
For once, I am glad of the commercial break, as the Lagrein Rose has felt neglected.
Syesha again. More sex. And many, many wayward sounds. Apparently the song is from “Happy Feet.”
Of course the producers want her to win.
Just as they want to give up their all worldly possessions and live the rest of their lives in a field just outside Ulan Bator.
Syesha will, unfortunately, have a use for her happy feet tomorrow.
The Rocksmith ends with Aerosmith.
He declares that he doesn’t want to miss a thing.
He is lying.
He would rather be in a Missouri bar swigging his whiskey and ginger with his married friends describing their latest swinger experience.
Rockers can miss notes and get away with it. Big David does and Big David does.
Big David is the winner because he can make you believe he is actually enjoying being up there.
He went to theater school, right?
I am sure the Results Show will be a cliffhanger.
Great movie, that. Like “Armageddon”.
The Pond thanks audreyjm529 for her graphic depiction of Idolatry.