I guess it’s not a proud admission. I am an avid viewer of those pervasive televised song and dance competitions. Sure, I turn a wry eye when Jennifer Lopez calls every contestant, “baby,” and when Randy Jackson comments in his unique but uninteresting ways-- dog this dog that, dude yo etc.
Steven Tyler wrote and sang, "Dream on," Then he became frivolous.I can't figure that out. Money and success seem to suck some dry. As an amateur singing judge, he's doing ok. He's no bastard and he loves the word, "beautiful."As long as he doesn't say awesome...
I never much cared for Simon Cowell. I could never picture him reading a good book or pondering an existential conundrum. Still, I miss him for that instant commiseration-- boy, that sucked. Now, I have to consider if my ears deceive me. Now, I have to access some message board where the screenamed nation may or may not share my sense that Paul Mcdonald has a distinctive voice, sure, but that a distinctive voice isn’t necessarily a good thing, or that Pia Toscano lacks “soul.” I demand soul in my singers, dammit.
Yesterday, I felt a little suffering because of the show. An aspiring success by the name Haley sang a song I’d never heard. After she finished and waited for the trio of judges to gush or just gush a little they started saying how she did justice to this “Adele Song.” They proceeded to say how hard that was because this “Adele” song was number 1 on the charts and essentially sweeping the nation. And, here I am a true fogey- “Never heard of this Adele. Young fella, who is this Adele, I used to know. Where is Casey Kasem?”
Unlike Simon Cowell (or my assumptions about him)I consider myself someone who certainly ponders existential conundrums so once again I’m making unproud admissions:Monday night at 8 P.M I can be found on the floor, watching “Dancing with the Stars”. Tuesday nights I can be found, on the floor, watching the results show.
I am not a fan of dance so I really shouldn’t be watching that shit. Don’t get me wrong, I think dance is a wonderful thing. In sunnier times, I think I am capable of many things but dance is not one of them. I could impressively do the modern uncoreagraphed moves. I forced myself to do them at some nightclub or another in my less set in my way days. Now, I don’t even bother to ever move my body in dancey ways.
“Dancing with the stars,” doesn’t deal with dance floor dances but deals with dance dance. I went to an acting school once and dance was a prerequisite. The teacher would say move your left foot and my right food would wiggle. The teacher would order me to move my right foot and my left food would jiggle. He would tell me to move both feet and I would decompress. It’s as if I had a disease.
I couldn’t tolerate being the class spazz so I feigned multiple bouts of the flu. Nevertheless, I am convinced that dancers have it made. Dancers move and move and move. Dancers live to music and rhythm. They are beautifully fit. I wish I was a dancer. Still, I don’t much enjoy watching dancing. I can’t pretend to know the difference between a lousy Paso Dobles and a stellar one or if a Samba delivered by Florence Henderson is as bad as Bruno says. Bruno really marches to his own drummer and I wish more were like him. That was such an aside.
With American Idol I feel confident of my opinions. Listening to singers sings already sung songs feels easy and entirely too much fun. I would never have guessed this to be the case. I saw some star search and Gong Shows but none of that led me to envision a future where such talent contests would take over such chunks of our collective consciousnesses.
There I am though, on the floor, eyeing the well produced spectacles. I must say that Tom Bergeron, Carrie Anne Inabba, and Len Goodman have a respectable and most pleasant quality to them. For the longest time I thought Carrie Anne Inabba’s name was Carrie Anne and Arbor. Week after week I marveled at such an inexplicable name. I googled one day and that got solved. I found that amusing.
Then, there are the hostesses: Samantha Harris had arms like an old sailor.Yet, she showed them off weekly. I miss those Popeye arms.
Now, we have Brooke Burke and it will be more shocking than Catherine Zeta Jones if she has bi-polar. My god, she's so unipolar seeming.
Now, I’m finding Kendra Wilkinson’s inferiority complex interesting to watch. She assumed, last week, that Ms. Inabba thinks she is “trash,”. I had assumed that Kendra friggin Wilkinson was simple and blissful and her transparent insecurities and struggles don’t fascinate but they do increase my viewing pleasure. I guess living in a Mansion with tons of loose ladies and a very old man messes with your head.
I was sure Kirstie Alley would be a large ball of Hollywoody pathos but she’s coming off as vaguely artificial and yet intermittently endearing. She’s a scientologist. They seem to have the secret to success. I should join, I suppose.
Ralph Machio has been blessed/cursed by the appearance of youngster though he is nearing 50 according to Wikipedia. It’s nice when someone defies age but the fact that he has the arms and voice of an 18 year old is unsettling.
This seasons football player is jovial and easy to like. They all are-- these dancing athletes. Then, I read about how many concussions they get and how they’re brains turn to mush and they get Alzheimers at 40 or they are driven to suicide by these brains gone bad. I should supply a link. Isn’t it wild how a brain can turn on you?
Then, there is a Wrestler who is a great representative for wrestlers. Any assumptions that a pro wrestler is more or less a useless bonehead is dashed by the filmed segments and canny dance moves of Mr. Chris Jericho. So what if he flails about in a studied leotard for a living? So what if he pretends to pin other men in other leotards to earn his fortune? He never gets real concussions and his presence doesn’t fill me with foreboding.He seems like a nice guy and I hope Len Goodman gives him a 10 someday soon.
No one else is coming to mind. Murky memories of some Disney star unfamiliar to myself doing the Cha Cha Cha invade my head. Yes, Yes, Mark Ballast and Maxim Chernikofsky(who I find sexy and yet would never admit it) deserve a mention in this monstrous post. There is just not enough time in a day.
The American Idol results show is on TONIGHT. Who will stay and who will go? Will America pick the right one or make the drastic mistake of voting out a marketable singer?
Libyan rebels stay glued?Just so you know, I’ve never voted. Okay, that’s a lie. I voted for Fantasia once. She had soul. If she was a scientologist I bet she’d be doing better