OK. American Idol last night? Not so good. Even the best were not so good, which means that the not so good were pretty darn lousy, and that, my friends, is being kind.
Last night was "Latin" night, which somehow translated into All-Gloria Estefan all-the-time night. Which would have been ok, if Gloria Estefan was singing. Which she wasn't, so it wasn't.
I was interested to see how Latin music was really confounding these performers. None of them ever seemed comfortable with the mixed rhythmic meters and so were never really in the groove of the song. It was like being on downhill skis for the first time and employing the "snowplow or die" method. Last night, there was a lot of vocal snowplowing going on.
I'll say it again -- John, the red headed moppet (AKA Elmo) simply must go. It becomes a bigger and bigger mockery the longer he stays. The nicest compliment he got last night was from Gloria Estefan: "Your performance would have made your grandmother proud. Good Job." This is what the moppet has been reduced to: Grandma Idol.
As sharp as the moppet preferred his song, Jasmine (I-don't-wear-that-flower-no-mo) from Hawaii was flat. Please, people: pitch Yin and Yang is not a pleasant experience. It makes some of us violent. Stop.
George Huff resorted to the sixth grade hop up and down fast-dance while he sang. I was later corrected by a much more knowlegeable expert *coughCOPScough* on middle school dance rituals and was told it was the "pee-pee dance." Truer words were never spoken. Pee-pee dancing indeed. Was it Latin pee-pee dancing? That remains to be seen.
Diana DeGarmo was ok (dare I say it the best of the evening, though that thought is a bit frightening), LaToya was also ok, as was Fantasia. Nobody was outstanding, although it was interesting to hear Fantasia attempt to summon up the spectre of Jennifer as if she were great Caesar's ghost. Strategy? Probably. Will it work? Knowing America...who knows. We'll find out tonight.
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