Idol Chatter: Boys Against Girls

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Egads! Three nights of "American Idol" this week! As usual, Express' Arion Berger has her eyes glued to the tube and delivers the following report before tonight's action. Check in Friday for an update.

I'M READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP, MR. COWELL. Are we in Hollywood yet? Are we? Oy. Only this show treats the word "Hollywood" like some universal shorthand for glamour, sex and the mysterious magic of performance. When it's just 24 hormonal famewhores, 10 of whom are just hoping to meet Kat McPhee.

Anyway, Ryan ushers out "the weirdest audition season ever" — well, whose fault is that? — and introduces "the guys," each of whom either does a stupid dance, the point-and-shoot or the rollarms. Those dudes won't get my vote, I've decided. Chris Sligh throws devil horns, so yay, Fro Patrol!

But first! Ryan queries the judges about phantom issues: 1) Randy, you've got criticism this season for being tough. Ha! 2) Paula, does this mean you'll have to be even nicer? Oh, haha! 3) Simon, does the success of so many characters, uh, contestants from this show put pressure on this year's batch because of how "valid" the show has become in the "industry?" Ahahahahaha! I'm dying here. This is better than "The O.C."!

But first first! A flashback to everyone's stupid auditions, with more finger guns. This is a waste of time, with one exception: Chris Sligh, pictured here, in the elevator Sataning growlfully, "I made it."

» SING, ALREADY: Rudy Cardenas has serial killer eyes and kind of a naive way of talking, which is not unappealing. He admits that Hollywood week is crazy, wonders why Simon hates him. Because you're boring? Comes out in jeans, a leisure suit jacket and target T-shirt. He sings "Free Ride" and it's ... not good. He does some kind of sketchy dancing and smiles at the audience all complicity.

Brandon Rodgers is all humble about his moment in the spotlight. He's wearing a dark gray shirt with military shoulder tabs and it's half untucked — what is that, guys? — and jeans. He sings "Rock With You" all flirty to make up for the fact that he's incontrovertibly a backup singer and has no sense of dynamics.

Sundance Head had a great audition. Which we all need to get over, because he has been sucking monkey phlegm ever since. He is wearing a Dad jacket and what they call slacks and singing "Knights in White Satin," grinning like a fool between each line, and it's all so horrible and embarrassing.

Paul Kim insists "the barefoot thing has always been [his] thing." Ew. Personally, I like to rock the "hygiene thing." That's my "thing." And what about the underwear thing? Has Paul been wearing that same pair of Underoos since we was seven? He sings the hateful "Careless Whisper" in a very low, breathless voice with a falsetto of DOOM. Paula says, "You didn't find your center." To say the damn least.

In snippy solidarity, Ryan comes out without shoes and announces he just got a pedicure. This is where the Elfin Prince of Lies mutates from the mediator between would-be contestants and the miseries launched at them — us, the judges — and becomes a wholly owned subsidiary of Fox TV. In the weeks to come, you will see him alternately: hold his head up and stand his ground the way he wants to; snap childishly at Daddy Simon the way he's been pushed to; prance and caper like the performing monkey they want him to be (and which he, let's face it, to some extent is). Stay tuned, suckers.

Chris Richardson, the broke-down, mutant Justin Timberlake had a not-very-good audition. But soft — he sings, "I Don't Want to Be" all countried out but charismatic, rocking all kinds of dopey boy-band moves. And it's fantastic.

Nick Pedro is a boring nobody who bowed out of the competition last year and roared back to be totally forgettable in ’07. He sings that boring breathy "I will be your man" song and actually sounds OK, but I don't care to the point of negative caring. Simon thinks the chicks will dig him, but I don't live in that world, so I don't know what he means.

My boy Blake Lewis mounts the stool of seriousness in a … v-neck sweater vest, I am sorry to say. But here's the thing: He sings Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know." And I hate to give Chris Daughtry, now just Daughtry, credit, but ups to him for starting this, for dragging the show ever so slightly into the modern world. Just the melody and chord changes and lyrical archness sound revolutionary amid all the calling to say I love you, as evidenced in high relief when Paula notes, "You picked an odd song" like Keane is Stockhausen now.

Sanjaya Malakar blah blah sister blah sister. His voice sounds great but he doesn't have much presence. He sings "She Knocks Me Off My Feet," which wouldn't be too hard, as he weighs about 89 pounds. Ryan swoops in to save him from the disappointed judges.

Chris Sligh thinks his strengths are strategy and song choice. Too right, my brutha. He sings "Typical" by Mute Math, one of those stealth Christian indie-pop bands. He sounds good, but Simon needs to knock his Hair Bear down a few pegs by saying he feels he's at "some weird student gig." Yeah, a Bob Jones University student.

Anyway, Sligh deploys a carefully prepared missile consisting of the words "Teletubbies" (look it up!) and "Il Divo," which, although overwrought and slow-moving, has the power to momentarily stun Simon into insensibility. He recovers in time to engage in some homophobic banter with Ryan, so that's all right.

Jared Cotter was fired from his waiter's job for auditioning, whereupon he went to Hollywood and got all nasal up in his nasal singing Brian McKnight.

A.J. Tabaldo explains that this was his fifth time trying out. That is just sad. He's a soft-spoken dude in a polo shirt with a popped collar, which is even sadder. After he sings … something, Randy asks if he was having a good time, so that's enough of that. (The female equivalent is Paula telling a bad singer she's a beautiful girl, because in Paula's world, that's all that matters.)

What if Stevie Wonder had never been born? Would there be no AI? Just wondering.

Phil Stacey, whose "thing" is that he missed his baby's birth to audition, makes Elliott Yamin look like Viggo Mortensen. He "Could Not Ask for More," except maybe some hair or smaller ears or a decent jawline. Insert your own joke here.

Wednesday night, less femmes.

» GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS: The evening opens with a tedious recap of the guys' night in white satin. Chris Sligh and Blake Lewis whipped it out. Chris Richardson was weirdly appealing. Simon was right about everything except telling Sligh he's not the best vocalist in the bunch, which is a blatant teacher move. Make them work harder by not giving anyone better than a B in the first semester. It's a suck trick, and Chris is onto the show's thing, and won't fall for it.

Paula has some sort of nasty rat halfway down the back of her head, a trench coat with nothing underneath and freaky blue-white eyeshadow. Ryan goes after Simon for letting Chris get under his skin, and Simon gets even more sullen and mulish. Ha! How do I love thee, Chris Sligh?

Recap of the girls' auditions and welcomes. Lots of screaming. Chicks, man; what are you gonna do?

Stephanie Edwards. She's the one with the hot hot fashion sense, pictured here. Go on with your earrings, girl, and polka-dot dress that needs to be on me. Me! Sings "How Come You Don't Call Me Anymore?" off the beat, but her voice sounds great, very old-fashioned and torchy. But she is wearing a blue-and-brown dress I covet.

Amy Krebs of the hideous white wide belt is now wearing a random summer dress. She has kind of big teeth but isn't prettier than she needs to be. Sings "I Can't Make You Love Me." I like that song far too much and find the line "Don't patronize" to be kind of painful, like, don't act like you care just to get some when you're just gonna hurt me but I'm up for it anyway because I want you that bad and am stupid. Ugh. It's so sad. Oh, Amy? Eh.

Leslie Hunt the biggest nerd-geek ever. She has a weird baritone speaking voice and is a total freak. She sings "Natural Woman" in a pretty brown dress and high boots, which I would totally wear. She doesn't get it, and vamps around, shimmying her shoulders and smiling. I love her. Call me, honey! We'll ... we'll go shopping with Stephanie.

Simon explains to her slowly, like she's brain-damaged, "You're a dog-walker." Dude, she's trying not to be one. She's trying to pay her damn rent, and not everyone found a young, bulimic Geri Halliwell to make a billion pounds off of. Step off.

Sabrina Sloan describes herself as a professional singer. A flashback shows Paula dancing and fist-pumping like a dumb ho at the Hollywood audition. Stephanie Sings a jazzy song about a bad man while wearing a teeny frilly white dress/tunic over jeans and black heels. Her camera seduction technique is highly advanced. She has a great voice and when she starts feeling the song, it's really real. That isn't the whole time, because of the self-consciousness factor, but it's pretty on fire when she forgets she's on AI and sings the damn song. Paula stands again to clap and to prove that her trench coat is some kind of stupid overproduced jacket.

Antonella is all dolled up in full future mob wife gear, from hoop earrings to a red cap-sleeve top and jeans and some kind of complicated belt. "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" in that Sheryl Crow song-porn way. Waaatch my lipsss shaaape these notesssss. Ooooooh. The shame of it is, you can't do it unless you're kinda good, which she is. Still, the performance is a hot devil's omelet of a mess.

Jordan Sparks is only 17 and she is going after Simon — who in the past described her as sugary sweet — with all guns blazing. Singing the very unsweet "Give Me One Reason" is smart and she sings it fiercely, although the performance is a little heavy on the pointy moves.

This sucks and I don't care anyway. I'm ... I'm sorry. That wasn't me, that was my heterosexual viewing companion and he must have typed this when I was out heating up more Tater Tots. Sorry.

Nicole Tranquilo is nasal in that ’70s jazz-rock way: Steely Rickie Lee Scaggs. Simon goes nuts with rage: "Indulgent, aggressive, unnatural, fake, over-rehearsed." True, true, true, true and true.

Hayle Scarnado of the sexy black jumpsuit has the instrument, but "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" — I'm nervous as hell and shaky and too young for this song! Also, I'm a mic-tapper of Trenyce proportions! Stop me now!

Melinda Doolittle is the boring backup singer everyone on the planet loves but me. She can sing very well, has a huge face like an Easter Island statue, only less structurally interesting, and bores the living daylights out of me. Her humility knows no bounds, she is so meek, so humble, so shruggy, so unassuming, so lil' ol' me? about it all I could truly see her axed on Thursday and not care.

Alaina Alexander has lots of light-brown-sugar hair and big teeth, like so many of these women. Welcome, Mariah Care-less — hahahaha! Sorry, sorry. Not me. It won't happen again. Uh, Alaina sings the Pretenders' "Brass in Pocket" while wearing a really ugly vest and dances by stomping.

Tough girl Gina Glockson is wearing a weird short leather jacket thing over a striped button-down shirt and singing "All By Myself." Why does this awful song exist, why? She's shouty, and tries to redeem it with the last note, but it's still a screaming nightmare.

Is Lakisha Jones, at left, stupid? No, she is not. Does she know what side her bread is buttered on? Oh, hell, yes. She comes out in a red scanty dress and launches into "And I'm Telling You, I'm Not Going." The judges go insane in the membrane, of course. Because it's that song, suckers! The psychology of song choice is an interesting thing — The evil that is in me has no outlet.
Stop it.
I am SO evil.

Please, I'm working here.

Randy is the second banana in an Ibsen play. Paula is the woman who has died before the beginning of a Strindberg play. Simon is an Ibsen hero who can't understand why people act like he's in Strindberg.

So, folks, Thursday night: A quadruple elimination leading to a feeling of great relief. Goodbye, Rudy and Nick, Alaina and Antonella.