For those who are already excited about Tuesday’s finale of this year’s interminable American Idol, there is more controversy over which to wet the very edges of your mouth.
The official plan was to have Big and Little David sing their own choice, a favorite reprise, and the no doubt melodious and versatile winner of the Idol Songwriting Contest.
Suddenly, the favorite reprise has gone the way of Jason Castro’s attention after 3pm. (11am at weekends.)
It has been replaced by a choice made by that sprightly doyen of contemporary musical taste, one hundred and seventy-five-year-old Clive Davis.
Of course, conspiracists will wonder which side this decision will favor.
Will Mr. Davis have a more encyclopedic knowledge of corpse-warm ballads to offer David Archuleta?
Or will he find one remaining rocker sinew in his temple to dredge up some almost-forgotten classic for David Cook to re-unicycle?
Honestly, this matters less than whether picking one’s nose will one day become illegal.
American Idol is as much a singing competition as the Nobel Prize is an attempt to find the world’s finest expectorator.
This was brought home to us all only on Sunday.
Anyone who found themselves emerging from unconsciousness to be slapped by the Academy of Country Music’s Award Show will have seen the extraordinary Kellie Pickler.
Extraordinary because she sings live like the hirsute woman in my gym who wears an iPod wetter than a British Wednesday and shouts along to the Presbyterian Punk on her Shuffle.
Kellie has a little personality. Kellie talks as if she should be able to sing country music. Kellie has the finest producers, who ensure that what appears to be produced by her voice can be appropriately retouched for human reproduction.
The singing? Oh, we have the technology.
And so we are left with two Davids who, combined, have so far exhibited as much character as an extra in a long shot on a daytime soap.
Of course, it is clear which one of the two is the more contemporary, the more amusing, the more intelligent, the better balanced mentally and, indeed, the better singer.
Equally clearly, the producers want a result that will satisfy the most nervous of Kazakh bankers.
Neither Taylor Hicks nor Jordin Sparks sold a million.
The Chosen David must.
That is why many are suggesting that the inclusion of Mr. Davis’s song choice is an attempt to bias the show in favor of Little David.
Little David’s song choices have been as appropriate as Paula Abdul sipping a banana smoothie. Without a straw.
So I was not at all surprised to hear that Mr. Davis has chosen for David one of the greatest songs from his Arista days, “Summerlove Sensation” by the Bay City Rollers.
Perhaps you will not be altogether familiar with this band. They hailed from Scotland and wore little tartan scarves that hung from their jeans.
I am told there has been some talk of Little David adopting this fashion quirk, as a means to break more hearts and make more dollars.
Here are some of the lyrics of this marvelous song choice:
“Come on and run in the sun, having fun with the one that you really love.
Walk in the sand, hand in hand with the boy that you met on vacation…”
Unquestionably, as Randy Jackson would say, in the Archuleta Wheelhouse. Although, Archuleta Senior was heard to be concerned that this song came from the same part of the world as Nigel Lythgoe, the Arch(uleta)-Nemesis.
Mr. Davis’s choice for David Cook is a sly one. Although Mr. Davis was associated with such hard rock acts as Air Supply and Kenny G, he has extended his imagination to remind himself that Lou Reed was once an Arista act.
David Cook will therefore be offering us “Perfect Day.” (Yes, the song where Lou tells his lover that “you made me forget myself.”)
David’s re-invention will start slowly and build to a rocking crescendo, end with a high note, a modest bow and a look of faux-fear towards the judges.
I, for one, am ready for a perfect night.
The Pond thanks pingu1963 for his exclusive shot from rehearsals.