That's a lyric from Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah," but it might as well be an indictment of the horrid songs chosen by the men on Tuesday night's "American Idol": "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go"? "Tainted Love"? "It's All Coming Back to Me Now," which was wretched enough to inspire covers from both Celine Dion and Meatloaf?
Granted there was some bad music in the 80s, but contestants had a whole decade to choose from (see my previous post on some of the gems from that era). At least Jason Castro had the musical taste and smarts to choose this piece of Leonard Cohen song-poetry. True, with all the covers and renditions featured on television and in movies, it's been a little overdone, but it's such a great song that it makes up for some weaknesses in the singer. Jason did have a couple of pitch issues, as Randy was wont to point out (and props to the Dawg for mentioning that Cohen wrote the song before giving due credit to Jeff Buckley), but it was a tender, heartfelt rendition.
Jason bared his musical soul, but David Hernandez has bared much more than that. It turns out the singer used to work as a male stripper at a club with a mainly male clientele, dancing fully nude and offering lap dances. The club, "Dick's Revue," even was named "best gay male revue" by the Phoenix New Times. He apparently also worked as a bartender at a gay bar and has a steady boyfriend. After all the skin controversies of "Idol" past, this news was greeted with a collective yawn.
I don't think the revelation really denudes his work on stage (too bad it doesn't have a pole, though). In fact, this past job experiences enhances the career prospects of Stripper David (as he shall henceforth be known) once he is inevitably voted off in the next few weeks. There was a cheesiness to Stripper David's performances that I couldn't get past, and this helps me put my finger on what was missing — male frontal nudity so close you can feel it. Stripper David may not be made to sell out arenas and pedal millions of albums, but he could be one hell of a clothing-optional singing telegram. Remember, boys, a heartfelt rendition of a song will always pale in comparison to a felt-cock version of the same number.
I could see sending him to a buddy's house for a birthday present or to cheer someone up over a breakup. Stripper David shows up with a karaoke machine and a single rose for the gentleman of the house; he starts flinging articles of clothing, does a cheesy little dance in the yard while singing Tina Turner's "Private Dancer." "I'm a dancer for money," he sighs as you slip the dollar bills in the G-string and grope the merchandise. Maybe he lets you try it out for a couple Andrew Jacksons. "I'll do what you want me to do."
That was a good '80s song. Why didn't Stripper David sing that instead of "It's All Coming Back to Me"? It wasn't the only baffling song choice. Take the other David (please, don't ... because I'm not sure what you'll do with him once you take him.)
David Archuleta, for the sake of clarity when comparing him to the two lesser Davids, shall be called forevermore in this column The Chosen David. In my last column, I mentioned how lovely it would be to have Chosen David sing "Hallelujah," an invocation of his holy place in the "Idol" final. But either Jason won that song choice battle or perhaps Chosen David would have been embarrassed to reference his Biblical namesake in the first verse. I think the hypothetical Lord would have been very pleased to hear this angel-faced singer's secret chord.
Whatever the reason, Chosen David ended up with Phil Collins' dreary "Another Day in Paradise." He did what he could with it, but it was no "Imagine" (or "Shop Around," for that matter). Simon told him he sang two depressing songs in a row, and Chosen David wondered aloud how John Lennon's Utopian classic could be viewed as depressing. Personally, I don't think it's the existential despair of a heaven-less world that distresses the British crank — it's the society free of personal possessions. That's a vision to leave any multimillionaire in despair. Of course, Chosen David didn't make the situation any better by telling Simon he sang "Paradise" to highlight the plight of homeless families around the world.
Is he trying to be the next Bono or the next Miss America? I don't care either way, if we get to see him in the swimsuit competition. Alas, there were no leaked stories of Chosen David dancing in Utah gay strip clubs (ha!). There was a shocking report from his high school friends who call him Lettuce Boy. Unfortunately, the anecdote explaining this has to do with roughage at a fast-food eatery and not the fact that he gives good head. Although, a pre-performance chat with Ryan had me wondering. "He told me he's thirsty, and he has to pee," Ryan announced, apropos of nothing. David, blushing, confided that he didn't necessarily want to share this information with the world. It was obviously information for Ryan's ears only, and it made me envision secret games during commercial restroom breaks — in Ryan's personal bathroom (it started with crossing streams and quickly turned to kink play). On top of this, Ryan called Chosen David "my man," flaunting his good luck before the whole teen girl-gay male audience.
But don't worry — I hear Danny Noriega is still up for grabs. Anyone want to grab him? We'll turn the lights out and you can grope him while he offers a private dance? Nobody? I guess the purple streaks in the hair aren't helping. Danny's embarrassing moment for the night (they all had to reveal one!) involves his best fag hag like totally tripping him in a movie theater (where they inevitably were watching some heinous chick flick). Yes, it was totally like horrifying when he stumbled in front of a crush (one conveniently absent of any gender-identifying pronouns). Now, I wasn't in that theater, but it had to be a lot less embarrassing than what Danny did with "Tainted Love." It's hard to imagine a performance of this song not being corny and karaoke; Danny did nothing to change that, but his response to Ryan (a sly "mmmm-hmmm") when the host did his usual faux heterosexual feigned ignorance act and pretended not to have noticed Danny's purple highlights had me considering a sympathy vote.
There was no fabulousness whatsoever to be found with the dull Luke Menard, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. Seeing how well the gay act is doing this season must have inspired the boring Orlando Bloom lookalike to go from "Killer Queen" (last week's choice) to plain-old queen this week. First he tells a story about how his older sister used to dress him up in a tutu to make him a ballerina (complete with picture); then he gets on stage to sing one of the gayest songs of all time — George Michael's "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go." Zzzzzzzz. Wake me up when they get to the next contestant.
As far as the others go, only Michael Johns can keep me up (and that has more to do with his biceps than his lungs). His version of the Simple Minds' 80s classic "Don't You Forget About Me" wasn't entirely memorable, but it was decent. He also had the worst embarrassing story. He recounted how he used to do work dressed as a mascot in Australia and once got beaten up while dressed as a kangaroo named Boomer in front of a bunch of screaming rugby fans. I certainly won't forget that.
Speaking of forgettable, there was Chekezie. I can't remember what he sang, but it sucked. Please be gone when I turn on my TV next week.
Another one I'm rooting to get the boot will probably stick around based on the love the judges showed him — David Cook, to be called Bad Hair David (seriously, I kept hoping beauty school dropout Brooke White would pop up mid-song for a makeover). He turned Lionel Richie's "Hello" into a light emo number, and apparently this was a good thing.
If I get lucky and they send him home before I have to hear a '90s-week rendition of "Smells Like Teen Spirit," I hope he continues to hone his musical craft — in dimly lit bars and at low-budget wedding receptions. While I don't personally want my ears to partake of his musical invention again, I certainly wouldn't want to see him turn to stripping to pay the bills, either. I wouldn't wish such things on my enemies nor drunken middle-age suburban women.
If, however, Chosen Danny should decide to throw this little contest away to follow a dream of pole dancing, strip performances and private shows, only one word could describe such divine intervention ...
Hallelujah
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