Seymour Centre. Part, the second.

In what has quickly become known as one of the darkest times of modern medical history, the terrible epidemic of laryngitis, tonsillitis, nodules, strep throat, hysterical muteness and dysphonia has continued into its third week. Young contestants on an Australian reality television show, Australian Idol, were the most recent victims struck down by these insidious conditions. The show bravely battled on, with the contestants and judges alike smiling in the face of certain demise. When will the politicians accept that we are in the midst of an international health crisis, the likes of which has not been seen since SARS? Funds must be IMMEDIATELY released to medical testing facilities. When a show like Australian Idol, a show built on the foundation of singing and music, is unable to actually show any of the contestants singing for any length of time, it is time for action. My friends, I urge you to immediately contact your local member, to write to your state newspaper, to rally in the streets and to help us break the vicious cycle. Let our Idols SING!

Okay, maybe I’m being overly dramatic, but COME ON. There was a decided lack of any actual performing in Monday nights show. We were privy to mere snippets of the solo performances – I can understand if they’re trying not to saturate the public with any one particular individual - its nice that Tom Cruise has been an example to someone - but still. A little more wouldn’t have hurt them, right? A bit more singing equals a lot less Mark faking someone out about whether or not they got through. A few more verses equals fewer sob stories about how their mothers didn’t hug them when they scraped their knees. The odd vocal warmup with Eryana equals no nervous breakdown for my poor mother who visibly flinches everytime I raise my voice in anger and ire whilst watching the show.

We begin with 49 left in the comp. 49 people who’ve been herded into a room and made to wait for hours to find out if they’re in or not. 49 people who probably know that if they go into the room with the judges immediately after someone who got in, that the odds are against them getting in as well. Its brass tacks time. Balls to the walls, kids.

I refuse to recap the contestants who don’t get in. I’m sure they understand.

James Steele from Tassie sings Love Me When I’m Gone and is our first Idol through the gate. Not the best singer in the competition and certainly not the best of the guys who didn’t make it through, but he is proof positive that confidence pays. He makes you believe he can sing because he exudes belief in himself. They pimp the poor bastard by making him ring his Dad on the phone’s loudspeaker, hoping for Dad to burst into the tears of a proud parent. He is instead stoic and Aussie, and chalks it all up to his son’s talent. Awwwww, good Daddy!

Jessica Mauboy’s solo was some song about spreading her wings that I didn’t recognise but her voice reminds me a little bit of Christina Aguilera’s. She is, of course, our Northern Territory Idol. NT represent!!

Sidebar : my first sidebar of the year is in quick defense of my love of the Xtina. Yes, she is Mistress Melisima, Queen of the Quaver, Temptress of the Trill. But her new song Ain’t No Other Man is the SHIT and is currently my mobile phone truetone. Yes, she unnecessarily trills – BUT – she can really really sing. Really sing. Dude. Girlfriend can hit a high E above middle C first thing in the morning before she’s had a drink of water and without breaking a sweat. Shaneequa, back me up – that’s some good singing, right there . . .

Which is what Lavina She’s Gone Too Far Already Williams tries to do in her solo perf. She sings a Xtina song and trills all the fuck over the place (but and this is the key NOT as well as Xtina), eventually finding the actual note and blessed be!! She actually gets called out by Kyle for relying too much on vocal tricks and not portraying any emotion. She bursts into tears and tells us a sob story whilst I feel every muscle in my back tense with dislike. You’re already in, they’re fucking with you, STOP CRYING ALREADY.

My not so random or surprising hate-on for Lavina is swept aside for my not so random or surprisingly love-in for Chris Murphy whose solo was Cry In Shame. I hunger for him to bust out a falsetto as I suspect his may even be better than his brother’s was. The judges do not dick around with him because I suspect they sense his emotions won’t necessarily be as easily messed with as some of the younger contestants and he is in. Well, duh.

Jessica Griffin wanders all over the stage and I want to nail her feet to the floor but she sounds good, if a teensy bit shouty.

Ricky Muscat sings I’ll Be Loving You Forever – his voice is cracking slightly under the pressure and I hope desperately that he isn’t this years James Kannis. Because I kind of hated James Kannis. A lot.

They montage a few random In’s and I am pleased, if not a little perplexed, to see Carrot Top Bobby Flynn made it through.

Auctioneer Paul Vercoe sings If Only I Can Get Through This and not only does he look like Shannon Noll, but just like The Noll, he is apparently risking his farm and livelihood to be in the competition. Thanks goodness he gets in! He also has the teary family phone conversation but is allowed a little privacy as he breaks down in the hallway. I didn’t get a little teary at this point. I didn’t. Shut up.

Edie/Missy singalike Lisa Mitchell funks the hell out of Diamonds on the Inside and is looking a LOT less nervous. She still lacks stage presence and confidence but she’s the only one I feel safe about predicating will be Top 12. Lock it in, Ed(d)ie.

They don’t show Brendan Boney’s solo perf so it must not have been as truly inspiring as his audition piece which was an acoustic version of Gangsta’s Paradise which they do show again. Seriously. If you didn’t see it, I can’t even tell you how great it was.

Dean Geyer – who FYI, is freaking adorable and my current show crush – is another Idol who sings a song I don’t recognise. His singing is a little flat in the lower register. Work on that, Dean, don’t make me say goodbye too soon!!

Amanda Streete sang Early Warning as her solo. Mark fakes her out but we all know that every season must a rock chick have, and Amanda baby, you’re it. She’s also a single mother, but her singing is actually good enough that they don’t need to dwell on that. Marcia must be so disappointed . . .

Moptop Reigan Derry’s solo isn’t great, its not even as good as the group song that she got totally bagged out for and the judges are a little harsh. Marcia’s call of ‘you’re not as good as you think you are’ is just pure and utter bitchery, wrapped up in a sarong and a decent wig. I don’t know why they put her in if they hate her so much but they do.

Lyndall Palmer-Clarke sings I’m With You and is this the first time we’ve seen this girl? I don’t remember her at all. She does remind me of Tarni the Rock Chick from last season – to look at, not to listen to. I don’t even remember her now. That does not bode well for her.

Guy Mutton sings Yellow, which is just about my least favourite Coldplay song – it’s a urine thing, don’t ask – but he does have a lovely voice . . . welcome to the Top 24!

Joseph Gatehau brought his entire family, maybe he’s doing his ancestral history while he’s waiting, he needn’t bother as Kyle already convinced him to drop out of his final year at school. Whilst I think this is an assy thing to do, if the kid is serious about the show he wants to get all the leg ups he can, we all remember that other high schooler who had trouble remembering the lyrics to songs - which I put down to trying to do both Idol and school at the same time. He dedicates his solo song to his mum and moves the entire room to tears. It is pretty damn good.

Annnnd its torture the remaining contestants time by bringing them in together knowing that one is in and the other is out . . . the last two guys are Cowboy Korey and Irishman Damien Leith. Korey’s song was good but uninspiring whereas Damien, who has the FALSETTO OF AN ANGEL, wisely performed the Jeff Buckley version of Hallelujah. It is Damien, right? Don’t fuck with me show. It . . . is . . .Damien, yes? Yes.

The last two chicks are Melanie (good god, please no) and Klancie Keogh. I don’t think a whole hell of a lot of either of their voices, but Klancie’s solo of Redneck Woman is significantly better than whatever that was that Melanie sang. Klancie gets through and is distraught, seriously, she’s sobbing. She does know she’s in, right? I start disliking her a lot until Voiceover Mathieson tells us its three in the morning. So they kept these people awake for what? Probably damn close to 24 hours? No wonder they have no emotional control. I want to cry just thinking of the lost sleep. This method of telling them one on one is just needlessly cruel. Horrid show. Horrid mean show.

The others rounding out the top 12 guys are Nathaniel Willemse and Chris Graffitti and the gals are Atlanta Coogan, Raechel Lee, Rebecca Pearce and Lydia Denker. Who? Yeah.

Semi’s start Sunday, continuing all the way through to Thursday. Yes, every night. Yes. EVERY night. Y’all? That’s going to kill me . . .

Seymour Centre. Part, the first.

See the Idol Wannabe’s arrive in Sydney from all over the country and behave like completely normal people. Witness the complete lack of pratfalls, mugging for the camera and screaming. Marvel, as the judges actually critique them on their talent. Gasp, as everyone works together and gets plenty of rest. Be amazed when everyone learns their song overnight and have no trouble whatsoever learning the lyrics. Be completely taken aback as no-one shiny and suspiciously orange has a hissy fit ostensibly about his ‘professional reputation as a seasoned performer’ but that would appear to actually be more about his inability to cope with stress and no sleep and storm off in the most metrosexual huff I’ve ever seen. Watch the Idol Wannabe’s treated with respect, dignity and the slight sense of awe they deserve for putting themselves out there on national television for the chance to record an extremely well thought out, produced and not in any way rushed to the stores in time for Christmas CD, chock block of superbly written ballads and pop tune classics that will stay on the radio, get stuck in your head and be on permanent rotation on your Ipod for millennia to come. See pigs develop opposable thumbs, a sense of self, the ability to converse and learn complicated math, be accepted into flight school, pay off massive university fees and become pilots for Virgin, the first airline to break the porcine ceiling and adopt a Pigs Are People Too affirmative action policy.

We start the show with Voice Over Mathieson advising us the Top 100 is actually 127 and they need to cull 30 to get a Top 100. Hmmm, even I know that there’s something sketchy with that math . . . (I have a calculator in my phone). The first few groups are seriously underwhelming and pretty much all get sent home – one of the few who undeservedly makes it through is mother of four Melanie who to absolutely no-one who has seen this show’s surprise, is singled out by Marcia. I would roll my eyes but I don’t want to jump the gun. I suspect I’ll be getting a lot of eye rolling done this season. I need to stretch before I watch tomorrow nights show, warm them up.

Carrot Top Bobby sounds like he didn’t get enough sleep the previous night and isn’t quite as good as he’s previously been but James from Tassie belts out his song and although he sounds a little pitchy and breathless he is so damn enthusiastic and putting so much energy into it that his confidence overrides the underlying not greatness. Both get through to the next round but little funky fashionista from the Alice, Dylan goes home. Lavina Williams is working my last nerve when at the end of what sounds like a pretty damn good version (but not as good as this little girl) of And I’m Telling You (I’m Not Going), she mimics her sister by unhinging her jaw and caterwauling the last note for about an hour. Nadia is woefully unprepared to sing the song she only just chose and I’m sorry, but is deservedly smacked down by Holden and basically told to stop wasting everyone’s time. She joins the 58 other people who are told their Idol Journey is over. Whittling!! Whittling them down!! Whittling rocks!! More whittling!!

Group songs . . . ahh, separating the strong from the weak, the wheat from the chaff, the . . . the . . .yoghurt from the muesli . . . The boys get – U2’s Beautiful Day, Jackson 5’s I Want You Back and Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. The girls get – Blondie’s Call Me, Earth Wind and Fire’s September and The Bangles’ Eternal Flame. Oh and before I go any further, I love Chris Murphy. Just getting that out there now.

And then, the drama! The drama!! We spend about fifteen minutes on the Trials and Tribulations of shiny Anthony Callea lookalike Jorge, who has hit serious Killer Fatigue (TM Miss Alli from TWOP) mode already. J, who tells us he’s coming from a professional standpoint, has trouble learning the lines of the Jackson 5 number his group has chosen. So he’s a professional musician, but he doesn’t know one of the most famous Jackson 5 tracks enough that he can learn the lyrics properly in a couple of hours? Riiiiiiight. He then chooses to rant at his fellow contestants and behave like a six year old by declaring it to be all too hard for him. He then talks about himself in the third person before taking his bat and ball and leaving. Leaving! Because Jorge needs to stay true to Jorge! And apparently that involves completely screwing his group over by not telling them he’s leaving until the next morning. Teammates Ricky and Paul are understandably pissed and a little defiant and aggressive when they front before the judges. It throws them to the point where they sing like they didn’t practice at all and barely scrape through on what may be a trademark Marcia pity vote.

Girl group Jessica (of the Alice), Estelle and moptop Reigan are singing Eternal Flame about a key lower then they should be and their harmonies? Leave a lot to be desired. Luckily they’re not being judged on this particular performance and get through. This aspect of the show has never been more obvious (that is, the don’t worry if you’re shite today, you were awesome yesterday and besides the group singing doesn’t really count aspect) than with the next group of boys – our two older urban cowboys and a young genteleman whose name’s all escaped my trusty pen and notebook. Young guy remembers all the lyrics to Tiny Dancer and he sounds good. Older urban cowboys BOTH forget their lyrics and kind of shuffle along like they misplaced their zimmer frames. The cowboys get in because THIS PART DOESN’T COUNT. If it counted? We’d see more of the actual group singing. Little Miss Eddie/Missy 16 year old Lisa is shown smiling happily at the cameraman because she got through and did we hear her sing? No. We didn’t see so much as half of the contestants actually sing.

But we do see the final group of the day, the only official duo of the groups. It’s the aforementioned silver lining in the cloud of Idol that is Chris – brother of the CourtJester – Murphy. Chris and Dean Geyer sing U2’s Beautiful Day and hallelujah, it is. The two completely and totally ROCK their harmonies. They are flat out awesome and get the only standing ovation of the day (that we see). My only bugaboo is Chris needs a haircut. Like . . . now. Other than that? Love him. LOVE.

Tonight tune in for solo performances and the emotionally suspect, time wasting, blatant show filler face to face smackdowns between the judges and the contestants as they find out if they made it into the top 24.