American Idol: The Mile High Club

Ah, here we are, folks! Tuesday’s penultimate episode showcasing the last round of preliminary auditions before Hollywood Week brings the American Idol hopefuls to the oxygen-deficient city of Denver. Seacrest kicks things off by accompanying his introduction to the show with a hearty fist-pump with the crowd, and off we go.

First, we are reminded that the Season Five auditions in Denver four years ago brought us the rollicking, radio-friendly vocal styling of Chris Daughtry, one of several non-winners the show has seen make a successful name for themselves. To wit, Seacrest’s voiceover informs us that since his stint on Idol Daughtry has released albums that have gone four times platinum (completely plausible) and has, in fact, had TWENTY number one hits around the world. Seriously? Twenty number one singles? I realize this statistic included the caveat “worldwide” in its description, but I couldn’t name five Daughtry songs if a knife were held to my throat, and I’m a fairly tuned-in gal concerning this type of thing. Well, hats off to Daughtry nonetheless, but I can’t help but feel the need to fact-check the Idol Powers That Be, if for anything but to put my own innate skepticism to rest.

On with the show! Upon arrival, the judges disembark a sleek black limo, true to form, while a tenuous joke concerning altitude confusion is brought to fruition thanks to Simon and Randy, both pretending not to know in which city they’ve just arrived. Returning guest panelist/resident stick figure Victoria “Posh Spice” Beckham, fabulously overdressed in a purple frock of her own design, slinks past the crowd, waving hello and unfortunately sparking an opportunity for the editors to highlight another snippet of humor courtesy of comedy dynamos Randy and Simon. This time, Randy muses how much he likes “V,” his apparent nickname for Posh, and how many people have likened him to a “darker” version of her Michelangelo-carved husband, David Beckham. Good lord. Simon’s eyes promptly roll back in his head (along with mine) as he quips with his signature British drawl, “Yes, yes, separated at birth.”

Mercifully, this overextended farce is finally dismissed and the auditions begin. Our first contestant, 28-year-old Mark Labriola from Aurora, Colorado, greets us with an overly synchronized outfit and an incessant, hyperbolic insistence that “at least once a day” people tell him he looks like Jack Black. Maybe it would be more obvious if Jack Black bought all his clothes at Hot Topic, but as is, I doubt Mark hears this comparison more than once or twice a month, tops. Mark says he doesn’t mind being equated with “the ugliest guy in Hollywood” because “he’s funny” and surely “gets girls.” Oh, yeah, Mark is also “stoked!” to be trying out for American Idol (cue one of many devil-horn hand gestures and their variants). Simon asks Mark to inform the judges of something interesting about himself, and Mark replies with the earth-shattering statement that he really likes cheese.

Upon hearing the metaphorical thud of this notion hitting the floor, he quickly segues into an account of his wildly chaotic childhood, drifting from city to city with Mom, making stops in Alaska and Maui along the way. This fascinates the judges, particularly Simon, whose interest crosses the line into a full-blown interrogation. We also learn Mark has a toddler son, Ian, and has lived in Colorado since Dad rescued him at age ten. That’s nice. So, is this guy gonna sing, or what? Mark finally gets around to belting out a truly lovely, melodic tenor, which shouldn’t take me by surprise, but kind of does because I completely fell for the initial douche edit he was given. Posh agrees with me and admits when he first walked in she got angry because so many jokesters waste the judges’ time with their clowning around, and she assumed he was a part of that group. So much for first impressions. Mark gets an admittedly deserved yes from each judge, and is next seen tearfully expressing his gratitude for the opportunity, Ian in tow, because prior to this he thought his dream was over. Sniff.

Now that The Mark Show has come to a long-overdue end (seriously, that took forever), Seacrest moves things along by reminding us what a big deal Idol auditions are, and how the following contestants are rightfully driven towards anxiety attacks and panic-ridden delusion (the latter, I suspect, was present from the beginning in most cases) due to the pressure of the lights, cameras and judging panel. Some, Seacrest says, choose to deal with it their own way (one guy is shown offering another a Xanax, several are seen praying), while others display a nervous tic — case in point Mario Galvan, a nicotine-addiction counselor with a very inconvenient, very discernible chuckle that erupts from his mouth about once or twice a sentence.

The poor guy seems both helpless and oblivious to this malady, but his floor length green trench coat and choice to sing “Jailhouse Rock” are inarguably his own damn fault. Simon, always ready to delight in the misfortune of others, seizes the opportunity and begins imitating the giggle immediately, shamelessly mocking Mario right to his face, and the only person in the room unaware of the joke is Mario himself. All this on top of his complete lack of vocal skill makes for a mighty awkward situation. Kara can’t make eye contact with anything but the desk and keeps her head down the whole time, Posh purses her lips in muted disgust like Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, and Randy is frozen with curious horror. Mario is politely given the most succinct resounding no possible, and, to everyone’s amazement, marches out with evident indignation. He must have thought his impending stardom was deserved because of his role as Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde in a local Broadway revue two years earlier. Must have.

The focus shifts next to the picturesque, geographical glory of Colorado itself as we see bubbling brooks, majestic mountain peaks and physically fit residents taking advantage of the beautiful terrain and clean air; the latter of which, as Seacrest points out, remained intact until Idol showed up. A montage of musically deficient rejects cursing and flipping off the camera with rage (thus tarnishing the formerly immaculate air – the allegory’s a stretch if you ask me) ensues, but Seacrest insists that, in spite of all the negative energy, a beaming ray of hope in the form of Kimberly Kerbow will soon appear. Sure enough, 24-year-old Kimberly and her 5-year-old daughter, Amelia, are subsequently depicted walking along a creek hand in hand, enjoying the delight of each other’s company and restoring natural, pristine order to Colorado. We don’t know much about Kimberly yet, but after several successive takes of Amelia trying to say “My Mom is the next American Idol” in the most Little Miss Perfect way possible, my stomach sinks as I predict an array of beauty pageants in her future.

As for Kimberly, the fact she is wearing a wig is so blatantly obvious to me when she walks into the audition, I can’t believe it isn’t the first thing out of someone’s mouth, especially Simon’s. The wig isn’t costume-y at all; she clearly wants people to think it’s her real hair. If it were real hair, it would be perfectly okay hair, but it is SO. NOT. REAL. What makes this situation even more interesting is the fact that the song she chooses to sing (Ingrid Michaelson’s “The Way I Am”) includes the lyrics “I’ll buy you Rogaine/When you start losing all your hair.” Really?! What on Earth is that about? Her voice is perfectly pleasant, she’s perfectly cute and has Golden Ticket written all over her, but I cannot focus past this wig and suspiciously included hair loss-related lyrics. The whole thing is quite bizarre. Finally, after the judges predictably send her through and she skips out the door, Simon casually mentions, “You know, I think she was wearing a wig.” Both Kara and Posh wholeheartedly agree and I begin to restore faith in my sanity. Randy is clueless, as usual, and hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. His observational skills are clearly up there with his vocabulary.

The first day in Denver is apparently a sound success, as a litany of Hollywood-bound contestants are shown bursting out of the audition room with glee, amongst the screams of their friends and family. Seacrest wonders aloud if this means the initial confidence shown in the crowd is warranted after all.

Next, we meet Danelle Hayes, a karaoke host and singer-songwriter from Seattle. She is not outwardly confident like the others; in fact, her emotional instability is noticeable from the start as she describes the “tough path” she has chosen in life to pursue music professionally, especially with a three-year-old son (I see a pattern here) to care for. Danelle can barely hold it together in the audition, and Simon asks her why she is crying. Her answer is a very concise, albeit cryptic, “It’s just been quite a ride.” She briefly describes having to sing at numerous bars, casinos and corporate parties, and hating it. Her song choice is Melissa Etheridge’s “I’m the Only One,” a song that should be sung either incredibly or not at all, and she seriously nails it. The judges are all nodding and smiling in approval, and I decide I want to be Danelle’s friend. Kara likes that she “wears her heart on her sleeve,” and Simon notes that Danelle seems “almost broken” and might have shown up for this opportunity just in time – “before getting caught in corporate hell,” he says, which, to my understanding, is exactly what American Idol is. Ha.

It is this point in the episode that Seacrest notes it isn’t just the contestants’ voices the judges are taking into account. With the return of Posh, in particular, it’s also important to “dress to impress.” In lieu of that revelation, we, of course, next see an Idol hopeful wearing a hot dog suit. That means it’s time for the ridiculous costume montage, and Posh condescendingly complimenting numerous castoffs on their personal style.

Casey James of Fort Worth, Texas, isn’t worried about wardrobe, says Seacrest, he’s just happy to be there. “There” meaning both the audition and planet Earth, evidently, as we learn about Casey’s near-fatal motorcycle accident six years earlier. The doctors had told him he would never play guitar again, and we are treated to shots of surgery scars, and Casey pensively looking out the window. Determined to beat his grim odds, here’s Casey now, trying out for the world’s most popular karaoke contest with his trusty six-string by his side.

Next, there is an odd cut straight to Casey warbling for the judges, sans an introduction or obligatory small talk. Kara looks googly-eyed and Simon looks bored, validating his demeanor by telling Casey this is a bad audition, citing lack of charisma and effort as the main problem. Randy chimes in with a no-thought-required “Yeah!” and Posh is curious what pony-tailed Casey looks like with his hair down. Kara, eager to jump on this bandwagon, asks him to unbutton his shirt. Randy, half-jokingly, says he should just take it off (!), and Simon is on the verge of multiple homicides. The ladies marvel at Casey’s aesthetic appeal, but even Kara admits he needs serious work on his personality. Kara and Posh love this guy with a vengeance, thus Randy says yes purely out of fear, and Simon is silently reminding himself this is his last season dealing with this crap.

We are next introduced to Tori Kelly, an overly tanned, bright-eyed 16-year-old with Carrie Bradshaw hair and a gaggle of fans in her wake. She is from Canyon Lake, California, and is the epitome of every girl I hated in high school. She brings one of her groupies in to the audition, a young girl about seven or eight named Hope. Hope has brought with her some drawings she made of the judges, which are a bona fide hit. Randy’s is deemed the most successful, and Simon says it is more like a photograph. Randy holds the drawing up to his face to emulate the likeness. I should point out that the drawings are the normal, stick-figured, crudely-shaped kind of kid art that parents put on the refrigerator, and nothing more; therefore, the whole ordeal is either endearing or completely revolting. Hope is now sitting on Posh’s lap, and continues to do so throughout Tori’s audition. I’m now definitely leaning more toward revolting. Tori sings “Gravity” by John Mayer, and if she didn’t already leave such a bad taste in my mouth, I’d commend her for choosing a song originally sung by a man. She sounds exactly like I thought she would, and all the judges buy this dog and pony show except for Simon, who calls her both annoying and a human orange (I miss you already!). Tori, her minion, and the Golden Ticket couldn’t exit fast enough for me, as the curtains close on the “best day yet” in this year’s audition process.

Day two in Denver is upon us, as Seacrest notes the unwavering confidence in the remaining crowd, particularly apparent in University of Colorado – Boulder football player Austin Paul. He mugs for the camera left and right, demonstrating his athletic prowess in both the weight room and on the field, and informs us that making it to the Hollywood Round is #42 on his bucket list. I’m already displaying a sour expression and feeling queasy, and it doesn’t take long for the judges to catch up once he starts belting out another John Mayer tune, “Bigger Than My Body,” complete with unwieldy falsetto. You couldn’t write this guy. He’s awful, I’m delighted, and Posh says he makes her feel itchy. ‘Nuff said.

Seacrest warns us that if we thought Austin was grossly arrogant, we’d better prepare ourselves for Kenny Everett, 24, the self-proclaimed “world’s best singer, for those of you who don’t know me,” which is everyone outside his immediate family, I’m guessing. He proceeds to dance like Carlton from Fresh Prince to seemingly justify the aforementioned statement, and I fasten my proverbial seatbelt. Kenny says he’s the male Mary J. Blige, and his singing is actually a public service because it brings his local community together. Oh, boy. Kenny begins “singing” a token Mary J. song, and I would categorize the performance as a kind of melodic shouting – it wasn’t as horrible as I’d feared, but definitely strange, and Kenny’s delusion is no façade. The judges are slack-jawed, and truly irritated when Kenny protests their unanimous ruling to get him the hell out of there by starting to sing another song and saying things like, “You gotta be kidding me” and “I can’t believe this!” His incredulity and obliviousness lead him to a closing statement of “How can four people tell you you can’t sing when you know you’re a good singer? Something’s gotta be up with that!” Indeed, Kenny, indeed.

A girl whose screech surely kills cats (according to Simon) and a gargling scat master are among those who flash by the screen in a quick summation of day two’s disappointing lack of talent. Just in time, in swoops Nicci Nix, a resident of Florence, Italy, who flew 14 hours to make the audition and has a speaking voice like Minnie Mouse. Thankfully, her singing voice is a couple of octaves lower, as evidenced in her rendition of some poppy tune I’ve never heard with lots of “ooohs” and such. She’s cute as a button, but I’m a bit taken aback at just how much love the judges are giving her. Posh says she has beautiful skin and looks great, which may be true but ultimately means nothing if you can’t sing, but Simon is definitely intrigued, saying “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?” and all four send her to Hollywood without hesitation. Randy and Kara break out the “thousand percent yes” and “million percent yes” superlatives to fully express their enthusiasm. Barf.

As the sun begins to set on the Denver tryouts, the judges endure another stampede of disappointing auditions. Country-pop contestant Haeley Vaughn is trying to stay positive in the midst of all the negativity, and we’re given a background of her “miracle child” premature birth, the untimely death of her father and her mother’s premonition that Haeley would be a contestant on American Idol since the show’s inception. She is African-American and aware of her unique marketability concerning her genre choice, which lies more toward Carrie Underwood’s side of the spectrum, instead of, say, Beyonce’s. The judges love this, and she successfully manages to sell them her image right out of the gate. Her singing does not blow me away, per se, but she clearly has an innate knack for the business and has a certain je ne sais quoi I predict will take her at least into the top 24.

I wish I could say Haeley was the final contestant in season nine’s preliminary auditions, because I know we’re all dying to get to Hollywood already (where Ellen is waiting for us!), but unfortunately the Idol producers are aware of their audience and feel the need to end on a ludicrous note involving a male Bikini Girl (a Bikini Boy, I suppose) singing “Achy Breaky Heart” to whom I’m not giving the time of day. If you’re really that curious, I’m sure it’s on YouTube.

Finally, to wrap up the auditions on Wednesday night, we loyal viewers are treated to an exhibition of leftovers not shown in previous episodes. Seacrest begins this half-assed spectacle by spouting the hackneyed inspirational phrase “The longest of journeys starts with the smallest of steps.”  This is apparently to serve as some kind of feeble transition to what everyone remembers most about Season Nine thus far, in spite of all the “huge talent” we’ve seen: General Larry Platt and the now-legendary, often-imitated “Pants on the Ground.” I normally have a cavernously low tolerance for this kind of nonsense, but this still cracks me up and my co-workers and I haven’t yet tired of inserting our own renditions during opportune moments.

Seacrest deems this a suitable time to remind us what a crucial part song choice plays in the success of an audition. Returning Denver contestant Jessica Furney tried out last season with a Janis Joplin song, and apparently didn’t make the cut despite, from what I could hear, a perfectly decent voice. Today she’s back, looking good and ready to blow ‘em away with the meticulously chosen song “Footprints in the Sand,” co-written by none other than Simon Cowell. Jessica assures the judges she’s not trying to suck up, and Simon tries to hit a nerve by tartly saying, “Well, it’s a beautiful song, so good luck.” She sounds fantastic to me, and the judges agree, Randy adding that this year her audition is a “definite improvement.”

Seacrest moves things along by stating the obvious, again, this time with the gem, “The road to Hollywood is paved with attention-seekers,” thus making it “vital to stand out” during your audition. That’s some sound advice there, Seacrest. One apparent attention-seeker aching to stand out is theater student Amanda Shectman. We first meet Amanda as she demonstrates both her spot-on Britney impression, and the completely unnecessary talent of talking with her mouth closed. Her self-stated extensive theater background stifles her ability to “connect” with the judges during her performance, as noted by both Posh and Kara. Simon tells Amanda she is “such an actress” and she starts to freak out a little bit, raising her voice while desperately trying to convince the judges she can “get into” expressing herself more convincingly through song. They end up sending her through anyway, after Simon is finished making fun of her with an excruciatingly drawn-out answer complete with clichéd “dramatic actor” hand gestures. Amanda lives up to her already notorious reputation by giving a tearful, acceptance speech-like illustration of gratitude to the camera.

Next, we are treated to two time-filling segments, the first of which discusses how many Idol hopefuls bring instruments, even though playing them isn’t allowed during the audition. One contestant, dreadlocked Crystal Bowersox, actually carries her guitar into the room, explaining its function as a “comfort blanket” of sorts. After this, a variety of clips devoted to the art of the “fake-out” wastes even more time. The “fake-out” is when a Hollywood-bound contestant exits the audition room to greet their family and pretends they didn’t make it, only to pull the Golden Ticket out of their underwear (for example) as a surprise, ergo, faking everyone out. Let’s move on, please.

It turns out, a great deal of people try out for American Idol more than once; the vast majority are obvious gluttons for punishment, while a select few are truly worthy of another shot. Lacey Brown made the top 50 last year, losing her spot to tattooed kook Megan Joy. She’s back in front of the judges again, singing “Over the Rainbow,” and singing it beautifully. She’s completely adorable, and the judges are clearly glad to see her again. I’m making a mental note to root for her come Hollywood Week.

Unfortunately, most don’t know when they’ve overstayed their welcome and the embodiment of this notion lies within Stephanie Fisher, here for her SEVENTH time. She’s dressed like a “Lucky Star”-era Madonna and idolizes Posh, whose presence makes her nervous. The panel patronizes her to the highest degree, offering to have Posh face the other direction when her first song bombs and they let her sing another. She’s even worse the second time, and off she goes to prepare her act for next year.

After glimpsing a trio of youngsters we’ll get to know further in Hollywood, Seacrest notes that many contestants are possessed with athletic proficiency. This brings us to “Blondezilla,” a.k.a. Adrian, a 6’8” swimmer who sings “Can’t Help Falling in Love” in a voice no one would imagine escaping from such a behemoth. Kara says it’s like he has a small schoolboy trapped inside of him. “Either that or you ate one,” retorts Simon. Ha! In short, it isn’t pretty. On his way out, Adrian reminds both the judges and Seacrest that they have his number if something comes up. Wow.

Gargantuan personal trainer Michael Lynche has a daughter on the way and also sings a classic love song. “Unchained Melody” is something that either sounds poetic or embarrassing, and luckily for Michael the judges are enchanted. Guest panelist Kristin Chenoweth (LOVE her) says he’s got her vote; as far as I’m concerned, a thumbs-up from her is enough on its own. We’ll see Michael in Hollywood.

No episode of Idol is complete without a sob story, so the first of tonight’s THREE installments comes by way of Didi Benami, whose best friend Rebecca died four years ago. Didi’s audition is clearly serving purpose as an emotional tribute to Rebecca, and she chooses to sing the Beatles classic “Hey Jude.” She has impressive range, and her background story elicits genuine pathos instead of my usual skeptical misanthropy. Kara notes Didi’s clear desperation to make it through to Hollywood, and Randy points out her distinct sound. I surprised myself by enjoying Didi’s performance, and I’m looking forward to hearing more from her.

Aaron Kelly, 16, pontificates on his rough childhood before singing Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb,” a daring choice for a teenage boy. Upon hearing his voice, I’m positive he’s the kid who always gets the lead in the school musical, and can now impress his friends with a Golden Ticket to Hollywood.

Finally, Seacrest tells us that of all the cities Idol visited this year, not one mastered Southern hospitality like Dallas. With that, we meet Texan Hope Johnson, third and final sob story and one of eight kids who grew up in poverty. Hope solidifies this sentiment by adding that as a child she didn’t realize most people ate dinner on a regular basis. She’s now a 19-year-old waitress and bartender, and sings country-pop hit “I Hope You Dance” for the judges, who all lap it up. Randy tells her she needs to work on “closing her phrases,” demonstrating the most musical insight I’ve ever heard from this man during his history in the public eye. She’s lovely, and I predict an extended Idol journey beyond Hollywood.

With that, Hollywood Week and the emergence of permanent judge Ellen Degeneres is officially the next step in this year’s search for the ninth American Idol. Judging by the previews, Ellen fits into her new role quite nicely, and I’m ecstatic for the claptrap of auditions to be behind us. Westward, ho!

For another opinion about these episodes, check out Last Stop On The Road To Hollywood by Inisia Lewis.

Season 9, Episodes 7 & 8: Auditions: Denver & The Road to Hollywood (Originally aired February 2 & 3, 2010)

For more on American Idol, click here.

Photographs courtesy of Fox Broadcasting Company and IMDbPro.