The Lost Art of Letter Writing

Dear Show,

Consider yourself my bitch.

I own you. I own your children. I own your children’s children. You will carry my books to school. You will do my homework. You will give me your lunch money. You will clean my house. I never have to do my taxes again because you will do them for me. When I require a deep tissue massage, a foot rub or to have my belly gently stroked, you will massage, rub and stroke where and when necessary. You are not permitted to snigger at the rudeness of that last sentence because I own you and do not wish you to snigger. When I say jump, you will not ask how high but immediately begin random jumping. You will convince JK Rowling to write three more Harry Potter books that feature lots more of the Weasley family. You will find out who killed JFK and Marilyn Monroe but tell only me. You will definitively prove or disprove the theory of evolution. You will properly explain the appeal of Nicole Kidman films. Each day you will make me a toasted ham, cheese and tomato sandwich, cut it in quarters, take off the crusts and put them on the side. You will let Andrew G date me. You will arrange it so the next election is won by Labour. You will scatter rose petals where I walk. And if I so will it, you will TAKE ME UPON YOUR BACK AND LET ME RIDE YOU AROUND TOWN AS I WEAR A TIARA AND THE LEGGINGS OF MY CHOOSING.

I. Own. You.

Kisses,
The Gauc
xx

PS – My new best friend TallulahBelle who gave me the suggestion four weeks ago to get on top of the piano, will recap the rest of Idol tomorrow. She’s just still too too giddy over the whole piano climbing thing and the Little Miss Tarasai smackdown to be truly coherent. But she mumbled something about Tarasai to go tonight through the huge smile on her face . . .

What do you mean there are only six?

Soooo, you may have noticed there was no Idol blog last week.

Here’s how that happened.

Last Sunday night The Year They Were Born So Ridiculously Long Ago That Crap I Feel Old was woeful. All the Idols sucked varying degree of arse to the point where I felt so ambivalent about the whole freaking thing that I put off writing it until Tuesday, thinking at least I would then have the schadenfreud-y goodness of writing about Marty or Daniel after they were gone and I never had to see them again. And then of course, That Awful Thing Happened. My favourite boy Ben McKenzie got totally shafted. And for the next four days I couldn’t write anything more than a diatribe of bitter, angry, bile fuelled ranting, laden with horrid nasty words my mother would not approve of, and punctuated by long paragraphs of nothing but this:

What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?? WHY DO YOU HATE ME??

Taking the view point that perhaps my karma didn’t need the bad hoodoo I was self inflicting, none of the drafts made it to the ‘finished’ stage. Which is all for the best really, because it was some nasty stuff. Bearing all that in mind, I’m ridiculously happy to announce that none of that really happened because look who is first up singing!!

Moppet’s first song is Judges Choice but he was so disheartened at the choices that he immediately called me – we have special phones that are just for each other, no one else knows the numbers – and I suggested he might righteously croon the living hell out of Five For Fighting’s ‘Superman (It’s Not Easy)’. I am SO right. His voice sounds wonderful on this song and when he sings the line ‘it’s not easy to be me’ and his voice cracks slightly? There is not a dry eye in the house.

Moppet’s second song is his own choice and - my god - it’s Sia’s ‘Breathe’ and he’s sitting at the piano again. His breathy, tremulous husk laden voice is attuned to this song in the most magnificent way and if he loses it slightly in power when he looks down at the keys, it is so brief as to not matter. He is delightful.

The judges adore him. Mark immediately creates a new version of the touchdown, whereby he bends over and invites anyone in the audience who feels the need, to walk past and kick him in the pants. Dicko is too busy mortgaging his house to pay for studio time for Moppet’s first album to really comment, but he gives him a thumbs up and throws another dart at Marty who has been tied to a chair in front of the judges and whose gag may be on a touch tight as he turns purple and collapses like someone forgot to tell him the safety word this week was actually a series of eye blinks and twitches. The people lining up to kick Mark, step over his prone body. Marcia cried so much her eyelashes have fused together in some unholy mix of tears and too too too much mascara. Kyle just sadly nods in awe, because he knows he’ll never be as talented as this little boy.

Little Miss Tarasai is going for the power singing bragging rights, belting out the Taylor Dane version of ‘Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Baby’. She looks gorgeous and prowls around the stage sassily but is it me or is her voice starting to sound a little rough around the edges? It’s huskier than normal. She still sounds good singing this song and it’s high octane energy – which is what the first performance of the night needs to be to keep you out of the dread bottom three.

Mark calls it a rousing opening and pays homage to Marcia’s song choice. Dicko agrees but thinks she has 20% left in her. Her eyes shoot daggers at him but her mouth humbly thanks him. Marcia believes in Little Miss T and chose that song so she would go up into the stratosphere but then pulls her up for over articulating. Kyle loved the attitude but along with Dicko wanted her to go full pelt.

Her own choice is – of course – Whitney fucking Housten and is the usual belting number you would expect. She goes waaaaaaaaaaaaaay off course with her lower range and it’s not until she gets to the belt-y bit that she looks and sounds comfy and now I think I might be right about her voice not being in the best condition. And her dress is awful. And the song choice is insipid and dull and she should have gone with something that showed at least a wee skerrit of difference from her first song. Not that I would ever articulate any of that to her face because, well – frankly - she may be little, but she scares me.

Mother Marcia has her disappointed wig on and tells Little Miss that she was waiting for that 20% and where was it, hmmmmm?? Kyle loves her voice but in what will become an ongoing theme for all the judges as they try to prove how relevant they are to the show, pushes his position as Style Guru and queries what the hell is going on with wardrobe. You know, not that I like to ever agree with Kyle, but . . . . word. Mark says it was stunning vocally but he wanted more and he loves the rasp in her voice. The rasp that may lead her to be dubbed Cosima Mk II? Dicko dryly notes that she looks like a badly wrapped oven-ready turkey and promptly dethrones Kyle from his short lived reign as King of the Sartorial Snark.

Marty goes home. Good. Now make him STAY there. Mathieson takes a lovely moment to gleefully ask Marcia if the song she chose for Marty is one of her favourites. The world gasps at his audacity and admires it. Mathieson preens. I suspect Marcia may have been chuffing a doobie (do the kids still say doobie?) when she chose ‘No Woman No Cry’ by Bob Marley because are you serious? This woman? She cry, she cry a lot because you KEEP LETTING HIM SING. He starts out flat and just stubbornly stays there, just like the worm on Channel Nine that is currently SLAMMING John Howard. I want to punch him in the face so he knows the pain he is inflicting on me. Marty that is, not John Howard. Although, also. Thank FUCK this is only 90 seconds.

Dicko thought this was going to be a great choice for Marty but it didn’t quite fit and had ‘all the the choreographic zest of a dole queue’. Love you Dicko, don’t ever leave. Marcia reaffirms him and tells him AGAIN that he’s so laid back he’s horizontal. If I can punch him in the nose, he will be. Kyle strangely loved it. Eh, whatever, waste of space. Mark thought there was no interpretation in it and it’s Marty’s turn to speak so it’s time for Marty’s Excuse Of The Week (formally known as Lisa Mitchell’s Excuse Of The Week). Marty finds being on stage intimidating – the fuck?? – and whinges about the short amount of time they get to sing – totally stepping on my usual whinging point around this stage of the competition where I say the same thing, but fuck it, it’s Marty and I’ll be damned if we agree on anything so stop whinging loser – and Andrew G smilingly slaps him down verbally, telling him that that’s the reality of the FUCKING SHOW HE WILLINGLY AUDITIONED FOR.

I thought Pearl Jam’s ‘Last Kiss’ would actually suit him. It doesn’t. I also thought Eddie Vedder was fairly devoid of personality or charisma but dude, compared to Marty, Eddie is Dame Edna Everage. This is boring and awful and MAKE HIM STOP.

Kyle again loves it. Shut up Kyle. He does rather brilliantly slip in the phrase ‘fingerbanging’, causing The Nation to pause on their respective couches, turn to their spouses/partners/housemates/pets/plants and ask if he actually just referenced a particular sexual act during this time slot?? Mark thought it was a big step up and asks if he was singing it to someone and Marty says yes, a friend who died in a motorbike accident but foolishly cops to only realising the connection after he chose the song and two seconds before he started singing it, allowing Dicko to snarkily slap him down thusly; ‘nothing like a bit of last minute emotion as an afterthought . . .’ Ouch. Not his biggest fan anymore, are you Ian? Marcia is happy to see him happy, so may have lent him her doobie during the break.

The Daniel Mehsdud Top Twelve Scarf Watch has taken a turn for the worse and we only get ONE scarf this week. ONE. For fucks sake Dud, I ask you to do ONE THING. It brings him to a total of ten. I thought we'd be in the twenties for sure by this point in the competition. Of course, I also thought he'd be gone by now, but what do I know? Right? Ewww, Mark is allowing The Dud to crucify one of my favourite Sting songs 'Fragile'. Hasn't The Dud punished Sting enough? Won't someone think of the children?? Actually, he doesn't suck total ass singing this, but he just doesn't have the same honeyed tones that Sting has and his falsetto is for shite.

Marcia tells him he looks sharp and gives Mark props because she loves her some Sting. Kyle found it boring. But Marty was lively and made you giddy? The hell? Mark warbles about incredibly moving lyrics and how Dud got lost in it and vulnerability/heartfelt/delivered. Dicko also thought he nailed it, with great intensity and storytelling. It sucked less than usual, that's what we're all saying here Daniel. Less.

Ohhhhhh godddddddddd, his next song is Eskimo Joe's 'From The Sea' and he is KILLING it. I start giggling hysterically when he reaches for the falsetto in the first sentence and misses it horribly, and I continue when Fosse almost dry retches at the end when he Callea Points into the camera. Fosse grimly announces that Daniel has actually turned him straight. Congratulations Dud, Fosse is totally into chicks now and I need to give him a new name. Fuck.

Mark shrivels back from the places where he was under the pitch and tells him he's choosing song he doesn't have the chops for. Agreed. Sing 'Twinkle Twinkle' or 'Miss Polly Had A Dolly'. Then we can talk. Dicko has unsurprisingly seen Eskimo Joe perform that number and is it just me, or has the man been to every fucking concert by every artist who ever performed? WHEN did he have time to have these children he speaks of?? Marcia dug the aggression in the performance and honestly, that was about as aggressive as a lame blind kitten. Kyle thinks the perf was great but the vocals were dodge and that he's lucky he's popular because that's what will keep him here.

HotCarl has been given the Tom Jones song 'It's Not Unusual' to sing and I almost pitch a fit when he starts off slow, elongating every fucking word but what's this?? HotCarl stops mid note and turns to John Foreman telling him that that's never going to work. John agrees and they bust right into the BIG version and it is AWESOME!! His microphone technique is still for shit and his voice isn't brilliant but MAN alive that was FUN!! Upgrade that man to LavaCarl!

Kyle is back in full on heat for LavaCarl and calls him the frontrunner. When Mark goes to speak the crowd goes completely apeshit for a td. Mark tries to look like he's sick of it but you just know he fucking LOVES it when they demand this from him, it totally reaffirms his belief that he is the most important judge and only his opinion counts. When he gets that look on his face, I like to whisper the names Kate de Rouge vs Emily the Coldly Anointed One and Damien Leith's 'ugly' mug at him and smirk lots. Dicko practically salaams at his feet because he wanted entertainment and he got it in SPADES. He was a little disappointed that no knickers made it up on stage but that's only because Fosse and I weren't there Dicko, LavaCarl totally got some laundry pitched at him from Chez Belle though. Marcia is all about entertainment and Kyle begs her to yank off her Gstring and then demonstrates how that might be done and ewwwwwww. Mathieson speaks for ALL of us when he sternly tells Kyle that if he takes his pants off, he will leave.

LavaCarl's next song is the Donny Hathaway version of John Lennon's 'Jealous Guy' and I'm sorry but if this guy doesn't get you a little heated under the collar then you may want to get yourself to a doctor, you may in fact already be dead. Straight boys? You too. He actually sings this really well and this is a great song choice for him. His confidence level is growing exponentially and it is showing, my hot hot little sailor.

Dicko think he's really beginning to motor along in this comp and acknowledges that when Marcia fought like a DOG (on heat) to Wildcard him, the others argued fiercely against it. He bows to her better judgement - and hey, let's not go crazy, let her have this one, just this one, but no more. I have spoken. Marcia knows what the ladeez want and is more than happy to take the credit. Kyle cops to the others bitching behind her back about it as well because they all thought he was underdone, but that he's turned up the heat, cooked himself and is now crackling. I want a big ol' plate of LavaCarl. Diet, schmiet. My PT won't mind, she watches Idol. Mark says he's listened, he's worked on everything they've critiqued and each week he's gotten better and better. Andrew G comes out and stands next to LavaCarl and for real, my tv antenna totally just melts.

Matt Corby is dressed like . . . I don't even know. Okay, if Marilyn Manson ever played the youngest son Kurt in an off Broadway version of The Sound of Music, he'd look something like Matt does tonight. Mark Holden is a total tool because the song he picked for Matt was from Phantom of the motherfucking Opera, 'Music of the Night'. Never thought I'd ever say this in conjunction with this show but he is NO Michael Crawford. He warbles all over the place and this is no match for last year and Irish's 'Nessun Dorma', it's not in the same ball park, it's not in the parking lot of the ball park, hell, it's playing an entirely different game. His last note is quite nice though.

Mark thanks him for 'singing' it and making the dumb ass girls in the audience scream their fool heads off and then gives him a freaking touchdown. For real, if Natalie Gauci doesn't get one tonight for SOMETHING, he is a dead man. Dicko rains on his parade calling it an idiotic song choice and not indicative of the kind of musician he's going to be. Marcia says its all about versatility and she had tears in her eyes and then gives well deserved props to the orchestra. Kyle is sitting squarely in the middle of all three (uncomfortable for someone) and then hazes him on his outfit, which, yes.

His performance of Death Cab For Cutie's 'Transatlanticism' is the polar opposite. It is lovely and actually quite sublime. His voice singing this is lovely but he really needs The Gauc to teach him how to play the piano and connect with the audience at the same time because he barely looks up until the very end.

Marcia says thats only the third time she's heard that song (everyone: but it's one of my favourites and is steeped in tradition) and thinks its cool that he could do something so left of centre, so moody and dark. Kyle tells him he could sing songs from the Satanic Verses of Satan and he would still love it. Hey, don't knock that CD, the SVS rock an outstanding version of 'How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria'. Mark thinks its fantastic to see him play the piano and tells him he has such wide ranging possibilities for a 16 year old. Dicko agrees telling him that the DCFC song made up for the crap that was PotO and calls it sublime.

Natalie Gauci is fucking adorable and so is her family and if it wasn't for the fact that BEN IS STILL IN THE COMPETITION, she would be my only real emotional connection to this season. She stands stock still to give us Marcia's choice of Sinead O'Conner/Prince song 'Nothing Compares To You' and bats her gorgeous big brown eyes at the camers and belts the living hell out of it. She is emoting all over the place. Shaneequa texts to query what the fuck she's wearing on her legs and I reply, tights. Evil tights, bent on world domination, ergh.

Dicko calls it the perfect song for her - a pop song with an alternative feel - and believed every single moment of it. Marcia also believed and is happy with her choice. Pat yourself on the back, Marcia! Kyle throws Gauci's personal life down on to the table for us all to look at and poke and then picks on her butt. It's the frakking tights, I'm telling you, they are EVIL. Mark says you can choose to let the personal out and she did exactly that. James threatens us with Kyle's ass again and G takes another opportunity to tell Natalie just how hot he thinks she is, awww G's in love.

Andrew G's girlfriend is singing Rihanna's 'Umbrella' as her second song. I don't like this song. I would however TOTALLY buy Natalie's version of it. She has stripped it right back, seated at her piano and she's thankfully left out those god awful 'ella ella' bits. Ninety seconds is not enough, I want to hear more and if Marty's still in the comp next week just add his ninety seconds on to her song so we get more Gauc, 'kay thanks.

Kyle compliments her prettiness and says 'Umbrella' is one of his favourite songs (nobody look at Marcia) and that she did a fantastic version of it. The INSTANT Holden starts talking, the crowd pitches at him to td her and she initially looks a little wary because she's been burned here before, but the crowd builds and builds to the point where Mark confesses it was magical and FINALLY gives her a fucking td, WEEKS after she should have gotten one. Dicko tells her that's exactly where she should be in terms of positioning herself, 'head for pop and turn left, if you go past Delta Goodrem you're on the right road, if go as far as Bjork, you've gone too far.' Hah! Gold. Marcia loves watching her play the piano and sing, she's just so solid and that she took such a chance because Rihanna's so big right now, but it totally paid off. Natalie giggles girlishly on a td high.

Well, they just announced the bottom three on the tv in our living room - Fosse called it the Best Bottom Three Ever, I like to think of it as the Bottom Three We Had To Have - Tarasai, Daniel and Marty. So how does Marty dodge another bullet and go back to the couch? I do not know. The Dud to go, right? Hang on, they're about to announce it . . . it's . . . The Dud! Huzzah! And to make me really happy The Daniel Mehsdud Top Twelve Scarf Watch takes a flying leap from 10 to 23 in his farewell package alone. (Yes, I am counting multiple wearings of the same scarf and also the scarf/blouse combo his mum is rocking.) See ya Dud, you seem like a really nice guy but a great performer and Idol you ain't.

Eight is enough

A Letter From Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, To Her Antipodean Subjects.

My dear Australians,

One was terribly pleased to hear that One’s Colonies Idol was this week paying homage to the Mother Country by performing numbers referred to as belonging to the genre of ‘The Britpop’. One has taken One’s grandsons aside and had ‘The Britpop’ explained to One, however One’s grandsons then scoffed rather inappropriately at the concept that the melange of songs performed on this particular night were in fact anything resembling ‘The Britpop’. Wills and Harry are frankly too chuffed by Our Boy’s defeat of Your Wallabies to really care and have said that you all were mostly ‘close enough’. In the meantime, One is thoroughly thrilled to be given the opportunity to ‘blog’ for Mistress TallulahBelle, who has graciously stepped aside. (Tallulah: You say stepped aside, I say pushed aside by burly men in black suits from MI:5 who threatened my cat until I forked over my password. Your Majesty.)

A rather attractive fellow, the Marquess of Scorch, Carl Risely puports to be singing ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, penned by some of One’s favourite subjects, The Beatles. One has knighted Paul McCartney. One shall not extend this courtesy to Carl. His swing version is attributed to a Gentleman called Michael Buble. Well. One shall certainly set the corgi’s on that blighter should he set foot on the palace grounds. One finds this arrangement vaguely offending. His singing is quite adequate, One supposes, but One would appreciate it if he would stop butchering The Beatles. Thank you.

Knave Mark Holden calls it a great start and compliments his higher range. He notes that Carl insists on singing swing but that this may be his Achilles heel and longs for a ballad. The corgis like a good ballad. Our right royal British subject Dicko (O.B.E.) rightly dubs it ‘snuff jazz’ and says that he stamped all over the melody. Really, until One has heard Princess Anne warbling in the shower of a morn, to the Greatest Hits of Ronan Keating, One does not know true pain. Is the Dowager Marcia Hines perhaps a faith healer of some kind? Her tent like garment would suggest so. Daddy used to have faith healers and their ilk run towards the English Channel and drowned. She neglects to lay her hands on the boy, instead telling him to stay who he is. One thinks she may be delusional. The portly gent at the end believes Carl should stick to his guns but that tonight was a little bland.

Lady in waiting, Little Miss Tarasai Vushe is showing little respect for One’s Union Jack and has plastered said symbol of One’s greatness across her chest. She caterwauls a song called ‘Somebody To Love’ by a Band Named For Oneself. One believes she may be singing to God. At one point it rather sounds as if she is singing ‘The Way We Were’ by that delightful Barbra Streisand and she tells us it is a story about herself. One believes her singing improves dramatically by the middle of her song, producing a powerful glory note and blasting out a rather brilliant ending. (Tallulah: Word, Queeny.)

Dicko (O.B.E.) tries to get Tarasai to confess who she was singing to/about but she declines to name names. One’s Beefeaters could wring the truth from her. He likens her to a preacher woman and promises her ‘the collection plate is groaning’. The Dowager Hines knows how she feels and is also feeling her. One does not think this woman makes much sense. Camilla talks similar rubbish at breakfast about her horses. The portly gent has been telling The People for weeks that she is a star. The Knave hoots and hollers like Phillip after he has bagged a fox. He tells her she ripped the roof off and then gives her something One has been advised is called a ‘touchdown’. Is this perchance a communicable disease one can catch in the Colonies?

Lord Ben McKenzie is also disrespecting Our Jack. One is perennially unamused. Young sir has mixed the Oasis and Ryan Adams versions of ‘Wonderwall’ and is spinnin’ it his own way. One adores his arrangement and smoky husky voice. One will happily include him on One’s list of performers for this years Royal Gala Performance at Christmas. (Tallulah: Sorry, your Maj but just had to break in to say – amen, this is fucking great, he’s infused this song with all the usual Moppet vulnerability and when he gets off the stool and approaches the audience, he shines.)

The Dowager Hines loves his voice, the light and shade and power, and calls it a job well done. The portly gent backhands him a compliment that appears to push young sir’s buttons, but then tells him he was extremely believeable and it was really well done. The Knave asks him if it was freaky to come out after Tiramisu and One could have sworn her name was Tarasai? (Tallulah: yeah. You’ll get used to him, Liz, I promise, but you still won’t like it.) He then continues, noting that Benjamin needs to extend his vocal range. Ben has proved to Dicko (O.B.E.) that he is a real contender, but he wishes he hadn’t done that song. There is much to-ing and fro-ing about song choice and turning a Gallagher brothers song into something that would roll over the credits of a Disney film. Then Mr James Mathieson notes to The Knave that should he refer to Tarasai as ‘Tiramisu’ again, he will utilise the rules set up by Queensbury and plant him a facer. One has no choice but to twitter girlishly and have him knighted on the spot.

The Duke of He’s Not Very Good, Is He (tis a small hamlet in the county of Shropshire) Marty Simpson, is next. Is The Kooks ‘Naïve’ often thusly performed with a variety of faces pulled and notes missed? One does not approve of such tuneless drivel. One’s ears are thoroughly offended at this persons inability to stay in tune or on time. Off with his head. That will solve the problem.

The portly gent remarks that young Marty has one of the most interesting voices in the competition. Hmm. As a gel, in One’s days at school singing in the choir, that sort of ‘singing’ would earn you a sharp rap over the knuckes from the Mother Superior and it didn’t matter a jot if your Daddy was the King. The Knave berates his lack of timing and tells him his performance and vocal chops need to be brought up to speed, post haste. Dicko (O.B.E.) believes he has a distinct voice but would like One’s Australian subjects to not vote him any further into the competition. One heartily concurs and has penned a Royal Decree ordering Telstra to not pass on any text messages received for him. The Dowager Hines once again prattles about comfort and being oneself. This woman is ridiculous. Sir James and Mr Andrew G question Marty about why he is on the show – he seems to believe he does not handle performing covers very well and One wonders if he has ever seen this show before? Even One knows that Idol involves cover versions of songs and One has decided that should One ever decide to audition, One would perform ‘I’m Too Sexy’ by Right Said Fred. One does a most excellent rendition every New Years on the local pubs karaoke machine.

Viscount Jacob Butler’s girlfriend insists he has been waiting for The Britpop night for weeks. One wonders then why he didn’t choose an actual The Britpop song instead of The Beatles ‘Let It Be’? He is trying terribly terribly hard to impress One, but his voice is showing strain, cracking in his higher register and even when he ‘rocks it out’, he doesn’t really make it work. (Tallulah: Fosse noted that he sings like he’s forcing out a poo. Sigh. I just wish he’d frigging relax, we can still see him trying. Take a Zanax, dude.)

The Knave calls it a tough song to sing, that it shows the strengths and weaknesses of his voice. Dicko (O.B.E.) says he is reining it in but why choose this song? It is widely regarded as a ‘dog’ and is a faux gospel song and that even Sir Paul didn’t do it justice. One has contacted Sir Paul who had this retort: Bollocks. The Dowager also refutes that The Beatles wrote any ‘dogs’ but also that she thought Jacob might have started a touch lower in his register. The portly gent thinks he would have scored a few votes - with the old person’s vote (One disagrees, One shall not be voting) and to those who appreciate well groomed Gentlemen and those who know how to perform.

Mistress Belle has insisted One refer to this next young pup as The Dud. One was fully prepared to do as One pleased and call him by his real name as is sanctioned by Polite Society. But then One heard his version of The Police’s ‘Message In A Bottle’. One has since contacted Gordon and the boys who have agreed to never allow any of their songs to be utilised on such a show again. The Dud (indeed) has ludicrous hair. One would never allow One’s grandsons to wear it at such a length. The cost of mousse and gel would be scandalously high. This churl smiles altogether too much. One finds it disturbing. (Tallulah: and his singing sucked too. Let’s ditch Marty this week, people and next week The Dud.)

Dicko (O.B.E.) claims this song means a lot to him and calls it another case of over arranging a song to within an inch of its life. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Indeed. One doesn’t simply send One’s soldiers out to reclaim One’s Empire by force, does One? But One could, if One wanted to. Oh, yes. The Dowager is confused about what the show is about. She argues with Dicko (O.B.E.) about crescendos and levels and then tells The Dud that he is damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t. He certainly is. The portly one says The Dud ticks every box but there is something that he just doesn’t like. The Knave says he is developing really well and has worked on his mid range, complimenting his falsetto and the arrangement. One is concerned for Mr Holden’s sanity and has authorised a stay at Bedlam Asylum for the duration of his madness. (Tallulah: God, he’ll never get out. Actually . . .)

One is currently quite concerned regarding the health of popstress Amy Winehouse and believe a stint in ‘Rehab’ would be most beneficial. Failing that a turn around the rooms at Bath works wonders. The Right Honourable Lady Natalie Gauci is without a doubt one of the most - what was the word Mistress Belle? (Tallulah: Foxy.) Aaah yes, - foxy young women One has ever seen. She is delightful to behold. One is not as impressed with her rendition of Ms Winehouse’s tune. It is exceedingly well sung and performed (Tallulah: especially the dancing, yowzah!) but One feels she lacks a little something, grittiness perhaps? (Tallulah: sadly, yes.)

The Dowager compliments her appearance and says she was sexy and sassy. The portly gent enquires after her health but then says she did too good a job and needed to be more ‘junky slag’. He did appreciate her ‘crazy eyes’. The Knave wants her to do well but thinks he’d gone to The Planet Disney – is that like The Planet Hollywood? One rather enjoyed their milkshakes with oreo’s. Dicko (O.B.E.) is also terribly concerned for Ms Winehouse’s current condition and believes that there was no need for Lady Gauci to be so jolly whilst singing that song. Lady Gauci defends her performance by debating the meaning of the song. She is admirable in her defence and One finds her delightful but she is wrong and One would like her to stop talking.

Our final performer of the night is a deliciously pretty young girl with rather magnificent eyes and ripe lips (Tallulah: Uh, your majesty? That’s a boy.) No. It can’t be. (Tallulah: no, it is, his name’s Matt Corby.) Really? What are you people doing allowing your sons to wear their hair so long and unkempt? (Tallulah: I know, I KNOW, but apparently all the kids are doing it. What are you gonna do, right?) What is One going to do? Never allow you to leave One’s Commonwealth for one thing, honestly you obviously can not be allowed to govern yourselves freely. Also, what is he singing? Is this perchance the dullest song released by One’s subjects? (Tallulah: The Verve’s ‘Bittersweet Symphony’? Fuck yeah. Matt has an undeniable knack of picking songs that annoy me but he’ll get a td from Holden for it, regardless of how monotonous and dull we might find it. And by The Clooney, he has made a dull song even duller.) Yes. One believes One shall ignore The Knave’s judgment on this one.

The portly gent truly believes this girl, sorry, boy is a sensational, ready made star and thinks he can do amazing things internationally. Well, he certainly shan’t get past customs at Heathrow with that hair if One has anything to say about it. The Knave spoke and did that ridiculous thing again. Dicko (O.B.E.) wants to push him farther but believes there is one thing missing for him – personality and edge. Quite. Before she passed, Mummy in her nineties had more edge than this young child. The Dowager says Matt shows us who he is with every pore of his being – the young chit does have most excellent skin, One wonders what exfoliant he uses.

Well. One would assume that the Bottom Three would consist of Marty, Jacob and The Dud but One presumes that it is not that simple? Mistress Belle? (Tallulah: yeah. Who knows at this point. It’s a total crap shoot – I mean, pissweak rendition of Coldplay song aside, who really thought RunMdC would go last week? So while it should by all rights be Marty who sings at us again, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jacob either.) One shall watch with interest. But fair warning, Australia, One shall not relinquish sovereignty if Natalie or Ben are removed. In fact, One shall send Fergie as One’s ambassador – the Duchess, not the singer – if either of them is sent home. (Tallulah: You tell ‘em, Lizzy!)

Yours etc
Her Royal Highness
Elizabeth The Second

Just because Red and I were talking 'bout The Clooney today

and then because I'm ridiculously in love with this other guy too . . .

Sigh. Prettttttttty . . .




(we were talking about The Clooney because Red is in Sydney and she texted me this morning that she saw that guy from Idol last year, she wouldn't have recognised him except for the outlandish hair but what was his name, and I replied Bobby Flynn and she told me I was great, and I said well, great or obsessed with a reality tv singing show, you say potato, my shrink says potato and then she texted me again to ask exactly how much did I love and adore her and I replied with why, did you bump into Tim Brunero and force my mobile number on him because ALL my friends know that that is the rule, if they bump into Tim they must my mobile number give, he'll never call but still, he'll have it or at least, he'll have it and then immediately throw it in the bin and complain to his friends about the stalker chick in Melbourne and her crazy fucking friends and then I called her to make sure that wasn't the case because if it was then I needed to quickly bone up on some current Australian politics before he called but she had just managed to steal some magazines from the plane and the hotel that had stories/photo's/feature stories regarding The Clooney. Hence the pics. And here's one last one to make me happy . . . )

number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 number 9 gosh, that IS annoying

Acoustic night. Ian Moss pimpage, Idol unplugged, judges unhinged, a general lack of understanding about what 'acoustic' actually means and touchdowns arbitrarily dispensed in a manner that leads me to believe that Mark’s doctor has instructed him to randomly jerk his right arm at male members of the competition with big hair or risk losing his hearing completely. It’s the only explanation, right?

(I have taken away the capital ‘T’ on Touchdowns and downgraded them to simply touchdowns and that way they shall remain, until Mark gives Natalie and Ben one each and stops playing such blatant frigging favourites.)

Tonight your Idol viewing pleasure streams direct (indeed, may I say fast tracked) from the loungeroom of Chez Avoca with Shaneequa, Chrispy and Klaus von Puppy in attendance with the odd text message from Fosse on his sickcouch and roving rogue reporter PGiddy in Sydney. Shaneequa, the wholewheat pasta with lentil based sauce was much much tastier than it sounded, cheers!

RunMdC is up first and is there a clause in the Idol contract this season that states that a Coldplay song must be performed every show because he’s doing frakking ‘Yellow’, which I’ve bitched about before as being my least favourite Coldplay song but after RunMdC performs his Garth Brooks inspired version of ‘Yellow’, I will never complain about the Coldplay version of this song again. He sings it competently but it is cheesy and just WRONG and well, I’ll let Chrispy’s words speak for me – “this song had its bag packed but its flight was cancelled”. Da Costa might be in trouble because that went NOWHERE. And was BADLY enunciated. Mark, it is THING, not THANG. God.

Mark loved the bluesy arrangement and the versatility he’s showed by doing three shows where he did nothing but rock and then this show where it was a . . . softer, countrified rock. Dicko calls it honky tonk Coldplay and an inventive treatment and is chuffed he moved away from rock. Marcia loved the originality of it, the bluesy feel, but mostly loved the humour. The humour? In a Coldplay song? Why yes, I’ve always considered ‘Yellow’ to be the Buster Keaton of the Coldplay playlist, what the fuck Marcia? Kyle admits to treating music like he treats his women and by all that is holy, now you’re asking me to feel MORE sorry for his fiancée Tamara? I mean, Kyle has shown time and time again that he has a ridiculously scant amount of respect for music outside of his very narrow Fox FM pop genre, so I can’t begin to understand how little that means he knows about women. I feel like sending him a copy of Where Babies Come From and The Female Eunuch. And a dictionary.

Natalie Let’s Remake The Fabulous Baker Boys With Her As The Michelle Pfeiffer Character Because I’d Totally Pay To See Her Crawling Over A Piano Gauci has chosen Michael Jackson’s ‘Man In The Mirror’ and whilst there is initial scepticism in the Avoca loungeroom, Shaneequa assures us she has heard a stripped back version of this song and that it is duly righteous. Happily, Ian Unsurprisingly I Have A CD Coming Out Moss makes my day, as mere seconds after I comment that I hope she leaves the lyrics ALONE, he convinces her to stay with ‘man’ in the mirror, rather then ‘woman’ or ‘girl’ or ‘non specific gender’ (actually, non specific gender is what MJ originally sang but his manager dubbed it in postproduction). Natalie sings this GORGEOUSLY, she builds beautifully and her key change is sublime. Chrispy starts a Touchdown chant (still a capital ‘T’ at this stage of the night). Shaneequa looks askance at me as if waiting for me to bag it and I shake my head immediately because I know greatness and this chick is IT, she fucking ROCKED that.

Dicko comments how without all the bells and whistles of most weeks she shines the hardest the week they go unplugged, calling her a commanding figure and taking back last week’s Ticko From Dicko and instead gives her Fully Sicko From Dicko. It is slightly less ridiculous then the TD that is later foisted upon us. Marcia nonsensically tells Natalie about how much she’s suffered in this competition, even as she’s blossomed, she’s suffered and what? Shut up Marcia. Kyle loved it, it was beautiful and then Holden disappoints everyone greatly by saying the great thing about her is she listens to them and she always builds her songs and SHUT UP Holden and just give her the fucking TD. He shares with us that she only made the decision that day to play the piano and at this point Dicko nudges him and pesters him and practically gives him a chinese burn to give her a TD but Stingey McIDon’tLikeTheGirlsThisSeason sits on his hands and refuses.

They keep showing Ian Moss during HotCarl’s package and it makes me angry, show me my boy! He says he’s doing Cole Porters ‘It’s Alright With Me’, but he’s really doing the Harry Connick Jr version from Red Light, Blue Light. Good god, he’s playing the trumpet and wearing a suit and who cares if it’s a direct copy of every tour edition DVD that Michael Buble and HCJnr ever released. Fosse texts from his sickcouch to upgrade him from HotCarl to ScorchingCarl and it would be rude to use Shaneequa’s bathroom to have a cold shower right? PGid doesn’t get the love and complains bitterly about his singing again to which I reply, he sang? Huh, I’m too busy thinking rude things about how agile his lips and tongue must be.

Marcia is just so happy that her boy got to play his horn and bats her eyelashes at him. Kyle is back in full on love for HotCarl and comments that a man who looks like him should get the horn out as much as possible. Mark calls him consistent and thinks he did a really good job. Dicko says its fantastic that he didn’t wait until Big Band night to show Australia what kind of stuff he’d do as Our Idol and really, even I’m not that blinded by lust. Look, he’s beautiful and not the worst singer in the world, but if he wins this show then we, the Australian people, should demand to see exactly what the Australian Federal Defence Force has spent our tax dollars on this year and if the number 191010 shows up ANYWHERE on their phone bill, then maybe it’s time to give that Communism thing a try.

Jacob God Save The Queen Butler can not give up the British Isles, because he’s doing another British bands song, Keane’s ‘Somewhere Only We Know’, or as I like to call it, the song guaranteed to make an appearance on the soundtrack of any and all Zach Braff films. A fierce and cruel discussion is undertaken between Fosse, Shaneequa and Chrispy regarding Jacob’s weight whereby Chrispy posits the theory that Jacob has been eating the outgoing contestants. Hmpf. The views expressed by contributors do not reflect the opinions of italktoomuch. Because I still think he’s kinda cute. I try to convince the Avoca household that Jacob’s actually easier to like when you don’t watch him because then you can’t see him trying so heartbreakingly hard to win us all over but they will have no truck with it. In fairness, he has slowed this down ridiculously and it meanders all over the damn place very sedately and it unfortunately highlights a weak upper register.

Kyle calls it dead boring and likens it to something to be heard on the Channel Nine Xmas Carols. Ray Martin vehemently disagrees; there will be NO Britpop performed at HIS Carols, thank you. Then Marcia subverts everything by speaking next, when it is CLEARLY Mark Holden’s turn to nonsensically babble and bitch out at the contestant. She doesn’t agree with Kyle and says a great performer takes you to a place and she wanted to follow Jacob and Chrispy HATES Jacob because he snidely remarks that although that may be the case, sometimes the place they take you is Sarajevo which is not so much known as a pleasant touristy destination. I ask Chrispy to cease and desist being funnier then I am, thankyou. Dicko thinks Jacob just tries too damn hard (a la Ricky Muscat and the Eyebrows of Determination & Tunnel Vision – that should totally be the name of Ricky’s band. I call copyright!) but that this time he was simple and pure and mesmerised Dicko. Mark is at a bit of a loss because he knows what Jacob was trying for but thinks it didn’t quite hit the mark (and again, Jacob, should you actually hit Mark I will self fund your CD), it was at 60/70% when it needed to be at 130% and I’m no maths genius, I mean those Fifth Grader Kids could totally kick my mathematical arse, but even I know that that’s just a stupid thing to say.

Next up is Matt See The Pretty Girl In That Mirror There, Corby who wants me to hate him, there can be no other explanation for him singing ‘The Blowers Daughter’ by Damien Rice. And he’s successively made it dull and booooorrrrriiiiinnnngggggg and has left out all the pretty high bits. It gives us all the opportunity to have a quick nanna nap before waking up for the judging. Irish singing this for about a minute at his initial audition last year moved me more. The cellist is however, awesome.

Mark wows us all by admitting to thinking Matt is one of the handful of the most brilliant people they’ve EVER had on the show. You thought that about Emily Williams, Lee Harding and Dean Geyer, Holden, YOU HAVE NO CREDIBILITY. In fact, I will lay at least 65% of my dislike of Matt squarely at Holden’s feet, because the kid is talented, he seems lovely and doesn’t annoy me endlessly but I am OVER Holden’s blatant favouritism. The other 35% (see, I know how percentages work) is that he comes across as trying to hard to be A Grown Up. All his talk of Led Zepplin and blah blah and it just seems slightly forced and fake. It probably isn’t, he’s probably completely serious about his love of older music and bless him for that if it’s so, but it doesn’t ring completely true to me. Anyway. Dicko nods at the slightly obscure song choice but says he had the courage of his convictions to make that work. Right. Tell that to Holly Wienert. The chick who went out the first week on an obscure song, remember her? No? Marcia is just really very proud of Matt and his gift and has nothing else to add. Kyle thought it was so beautiful he wants to become gay lovers with Matt and somewhere backstage the twinkle in HotCarl’s eye dims slightly.

The Daniel Mehsdud Top Twelve Scarf Watch (which I missed last week owing to previously mentioned hospital visit time etc – everyone wave to Fosse who as at today is BACK in hospital, I’m off to watch the Results Show with him once I’m done, get well soon dude) is at nine, with two scarves this week. Mehsdud can’t say acoustic, he says A Cue Stick - which makes Shaneequa purse up her lips in total Teacher Mode – and he’s decided this week to destroy Kiss classic ‘I Was Made For Loving You’. I DESPERATELY want Gene Simmons to come on wearing those big motherfucking boots with the spikes and stomp on The Dud's tongue. I don’t like him. Or his hair. And I really don’t like this cheesy grin-ny version that he’s doing. No no no no no.

Dicko loves his mellow voice and says it was measured and one of his better vocal performances. Marcia calls it a semi RnB version and that a large part of being a performer is taking risks. I’d like him to risk feeding a great white. Kyle calls ‘IWMFLY’ a great love song and NO, it is NOT. It’s a song about getting your hips and the hips of another person working in tandem to produce pleasant tingly feelings in the groinal region. It is not hearts and flowers and sunny days and kittens, you IDIOT, its about SEX, seriously, do we need to get Kyle a copy of the kama sutra? Mark wants to know if the arrangement came from His Head and then. Gives. Him. A. Touchdown, sorry touchdown. It is time to retire the touchdown or at the very least take it away from Holden who is currently rankly mismanaging it and give it to someone who will use it wisely because for the second week in a row, someone else got Natalie Gauci’s td and I am getting a whiff of eau de Kate de Rouge.

Moppet is singing an Imogen Heap song ‘Hide and Seek’ and I announce to the room that I preemptively love this because a) it’s Moppet, b) he’s singing, which is totally like my most favourite thing for him to do and c) he is playing the piano. His husky soulful voice is astoundingly suited to this song and the room stops talking while he’s singing. Surely if The Dud got a td, this has to? Right? It is gorgeous and with tonight’s performances, he and Natalie have finally convinced me to vote this season. This kid connects with his lyrics so much more than Corby and I hate that he’s getting less of the love because he’s not as ‘pretty’. I think he’s freaking adorable and Shaneequa dreamily notes that a Gauci/McKenzie final two would be ace. I have no rebuttal because, yes.

Marcia didn’t know the song but she loved it and loves him. Hell yeah, Marcia, hop on board, we have plenty of room for the crazy! Kyle calls him a freak because every week he surprises him. Mark loved it too and calls it an incredible accomplishment because it’s a difficult song melodically to pull off and he did a terrific job whilst playing the piano and then he just . . . . stops talking. At which point the crowd, realizing there will be not td for Ben, lets out a HUGE disappointed ‘Ohhh’ which is a lot politer then what I said. Dicko thinks he was a little spooked by the whole thing because he’s heard him sing better (better? My brain would implode in the presence of such greatness) and says it shrunk him a bit, it was too meek but that on the bright side, he will inherit the earth. Oh Dicko. All is forgiven!

Little Miss Tarasai Vushe is singing the Des’ree number from the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack ‘I’m Kissing You Australia, Rather Than Smacking You In The Teeth For Not Voting And Putting Me In The Bottom Three, HOW DARE YOU’ and she’s taken over Lana’s job of overenunciating. She sings prettily but it’s a little overwrought and Shaneequa derides her breathing technique. She’s taken a slow song and slowed it down slowly. With a side of leisurely slothfulness and gradual delaying torpidity. It’s not hustling along anywhere, is what I’m saying. Her key change is lovely, but where is the glory note?

Little Miss T is Kyle’s current favourite (because he’s SCARED of her) and he likes that she’s consistently good and that every week we get to see a new personality of hers – how freaking many has she got hidden away? Mark notes she showed great vocal control but wants her to choose songs that she’s experienced so she deeply and profoundly mean them. Does that mean that the new guy who replaced Yellow Wiggle Greg Pane, did he first have to juggle a hot potato and then randomly go round to Jeff Fatt’s house late at night to wake him up before they would let him sing any of their songs? That’s a tough gig for Captain Feathersword. I wonder if he gets seasick? Dicko risks the wrath of Little Miss T by calling it P&O, cruise ship singing and cheesy. Little Miss T’s angry side, the one who made a brief appearance last week when she made Bottom Three, surfaces again to tell him that when she sings the song, it isn’t cheesy. And then she goes to parking lot and cuts his brake lines, boils his bunny and prank calls him for the rest of the night. Marcia understands where the guys are coming from and says she sang it beautifully but she wants the girl from backstage, the wild and woolly child to come out. I’m scared that wild and woolly child might cut someone . . .

Oh, Marty Clone of Jack Johnson Simpson, what ever shall we do with you and your song choice? Chasing Cars songs don’t work unless you have the cast of Grey’s Anatomy in the video clip with you; preferably whilst Izzy looks gorgeous in pink, George looks adorably overwhelmed by everything and everyone, Christine looks generally pissed, McDreamy looks . . . well . . . dreamy and Meredith looks pinched and like she needs a sandwich. He unsurprisingly Jack Johnson’s ‘Open Your Eyes’ and it is boring. He sings it better then he has sung ANYTHING thus far but it is still far below the bar set by everyone else on this show, except for maybe The Dud. He is totally without. Either he or The Dud must go, damnit.

Mark says it was lovely work, he promised to prove himself once he had his guitar and he did. Dicko recounts The Story Of Marty as being overpromise and undeliver and that he had to up his game this week and he did, but that he still needs to watch his vary speed, which yeah, dude can NOT keep time with the music. Marcia is just happy that he got to play because it’s been so difficult for him and sweet baby jesus, if you’re going to allow them to play their instruments at the audition let them play them during the show, I am repeating myself ad nauseam here. Kyle tells a sweet story where Marty ends up in a caravan with some girls and it ends happily ever after for me.

General consensus is the boys must lose one of their own tonight. There are only two girls left, it HAS to be an all boy Bottom Three, even through Little Miss T underwhelmed. I’d say in trouble are Jacob, Marty, RunMdC and possibly hopefully fingers crossed The Dud. In fact, I’d be more than happy with Marty or The Dud going home and if it was The Dud and he had to sing a song he got a td for and was STILL going home and therefore Holden had to face up to the fact that his opinion means SHIT? That would be schadenfreudelicous.

When other things seem slightly more important

No Idol blog today I'm afraid kiddies. I had put aside a couple of hours today to write it up but unfortunately the awesome Fosse is currently bedridden in hospital and instead of serving up zingers and putdowns for a reality show about singing, I thought I'd visit my bud instead.*

Have no fear though, tomorrow IS another day and I'll bitch it up for you then. In the meantime, a quick cut throat ramble :

Tarasai Vushe - eh. Cosima did it much much better.
Ben Moppet McKenzie - j'adore. I'd ask him to be the father of my children if he wasn't a child himself.
Mark da Costa - RunMdC hit it out of the park with perfect song choice and perfect execution.
Lana Krost - sigh. I would be waving her bye bye if I didn't think it unfair for a girl to go three weeks in a row, plus her perf wasn't the worst.
Jacob Butler - no, no, no, no, no. Great song, middling execution.
Marty Simpson - boy oh boy, did this suck royally. Should be going home.
Daniel Mehsdud - crap. Hated it, hate him. Still not as bad as Marty though, and also stop screaming for him, you're all giving him delusions of grandeur.
HotCarl Risely - for real? You're scatting during Disco? Fuck. And also, ow at your falsetto.
Matt Newly Anointed One Corby - Holden needs to be stripped of the power of Touchdown if he's going to pointlessly throw it away on a well below par performance. I would have given him one for 'The Scientist' over this.
Natalie That Touchdown Was Mine You Little PUNK Gauci - grrrreat. Beautifully executed, the best of the night and Holden can kiss my ever expanding arse.

Tune in tomorrow for the real thing, which will be laden with hindsight based on who bottom three's tonight - which should be Lana, Marty and Jacob/Daniel. With Marty going home purely because it shouldn't be another girl but Lana, do you see this ice you're skating on? Ooooooooh, isn't it thin . . .

* For those of our nearest and dearest, he's okay but call me if you want more info.

The numbers all go to eleven

Today's title is a quote from the movie This Is Spinal Tap, a brilliant mockumentary taking the absolute living piss out of rock, out of roll and its assorted hanger on-ers. Watching Idol Rock Night this season, well, lets just say that a little Nigel Tufnell or David St Hubbins wouldn't have gone astray. Because honestly, if Matt had maybe pulled out 'Tonight I'm Going To Rock You Tonight' or Brianna had thrown caution to the wind and kicked on with 'Big Bottom', I'd be praying at the altar of Idol. As it is, I'm thinking of sacrificing a chicken or two to ensure that they NEVER DO ROCK ON THIS SHOW AGAIN. Maybe a goat will do it . . . potentially a cow. The twisted soul of Mark Holden? It's a deal. I RACED home from rehearsals and barely made it in time, excited to see who the Idolites would break out; maybe some Wolfmother, Pink, My Chemical Romance, some Garbage, some Jet? I am a woman thoroughly unaware of the CRASHING disappointment about to be rained down on me as I suffer through what must officially be considered the Worst Idol Episode Ever.

But first, a little science courtesy of italktoomuch and the Season Five contestants of Australian Idol going a little way towards explaining why you sit at home completely confused as to why the live audience are losing their collective minds over a perfomance that you thought was at best not as good as Irish's 'Celebration'.

The doppler effect (or why an ambulance sounds completely different coming towards you as it does moving away) : the shift in frequency (Doppler shift) of acoustic or electromagnetic radiation emitted by a source moving relative to an observer as perceived by the observer: the shift is to higher frequencies when the source approaches and to lower frequencies when it recedes.

The Idolppler effect (or why contestant's performances sound completely different to the audience at home then they do the live audience and the judging panel) : when the sound of a contestant screeching horribly through a truly bad song choice bounces through microphones and exits your television speakers shattering the glass on your tabletop and your car windows, it is often perceived differently to when it is observed live. The viewer at home is not subjected to Stockholm Syndrome-like group levels of hysteria, excitement, screaming fangirlies and starstruck-idity and therefore the perception of Idol enjoyment must be based on differing expectation levels. Also sometimes referred to as Touchdown Reservation or Why The Hell Did The Judges Think That Was Awesome, When It Quite Obviously Blew Chunks At A Level Heretofore Not Seen In This Show's History? Occasionally referred to in conjunction with discussion regarding anything DeadtomeOnetrickponyLee Harding did after 'Holiday' that he garnered praise for.

Sigh. I would almost rather rabbit on for pages about DtmOtpLee then actually talk about Rock Night . . . gah. Right. Girding my loins. Let's do it. I was going to talk about the Confidence Coach but . . . oh, I just don't have the energy because Matt Corby is crucifying the first wa-a-aaaaaaah note of Led Zepplin's 'Immigrant Song' and dude, Robert Plant is going to be PISSED. His falsetto is AWFUL and he's raping and pillaging this song horrendously and he drew the Silly Hat short straw this week. Woeful, please make it stop. He does have delightfully divine eyelashes and I feel if he'd maybe wore the eye makeup Malcolm McDowell had in A Clockwork Orange, I would slightly believe that he could be remotely bad ass.

Mark tells him that was way too ambitious but still thinks he's terrific. Dicko was worried about song choice and Matt says he's loved the Zep since he was young - young? He's sixteen. So he loved them what? When he was three? Were they his The Wiggles? Did he come out of the womb humming 'Whole Lotta Love'? Dicko thinks it wasn't exactly the hammer of the gods but that he could get a plus one for Valhalla and REALLY, if a large breasted valkyrie came down riding on the back of a wolf to take him to feast and live forever, young Matt would crap himself. Marcia thought it was seamless for a sixteen year old but Kyle says if he was a pretty, young boy then he would have chosen a good love rock song more geared towards his demographic.

TepidCarl is desperately trying to get back into my good graces because in his package he wears a tight white shirt, ass hugging jeans and eyeliner. I'm melting, I'm melting . . . boy knows my weaknesses. Now Coldplay's 'Clock's' can absolutely rock out because Magni did so on Rockstar Supernova. However, he didn't invest it with a reggae beat and croon it so much as he rocked the living FUCK out of it. TepidCarl sings this quite well and wisely steers away from the Chris Martin falsetto which I fear would prove too much for him but this is pretty lame for Rock Night, dude. Still, at least it's not Waltzing Matilda! And his jawline is magnificent, so welcome back HotCarl!

Dicko shrugs and asks him if that's rock? Man, Dicko would have HATED Bobby Flynn's cavalier approach to theme's last year. He tells HotCarl that he's just being lazy and then makes one of the few sane remarks he'll make all night by telling HC he could have done a Stray Cats song and been brilliant. My god. Can we have a week where Dicko picks EVERYONE'S songs for them? Marcia abdicates all judging responsibility by making the contestant judge themselves. Unsurprisingly HotCarl thought he did okay. Thanks for your time Marcia, your fee for tonight's show will be donated to charity, right? Kyle says he understands he wants to stick to his 'thing' but that it was a bit of a jellyfish, wobbly performance and he no longer wants to be HotCarl's boyfriend as he radiated a boring vibe. Mark thinks it undermines the competition to do a swing(ish) version of a song for Rock Night and just as I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen because I can't stop screaming at Holden about how he let Bobby get away with fucking MURDER last year - 'Werewolves of London', 'Arthur', 'Rhiannon' motherfucker!! - the lovely Andrew G channels the sane part of me and dryly notes to HotCarl that they let Bobby do whatever they liked last year and ASIO makes a note of G’s support and wipes his file clean.

I have been waiting for YEARS for someone on Idol to do some Supertramp. Brianna Carpenter is not necessarily the contestant I would have chosen to do it. Her performance of ‘The Logical Song’ is heaps better than last week but that’s not really saying a lot, her vocals are really weak and she mangles her higher notes like they borrowed her favourite coloured tights without asking and she’s holding a grudge. Her fringe looks straighter than usual. That’s good . . . right?

Marcia actually critiques her for the second week in a row by reminding her to watch her pitch, that she’s missing the notes with her head voice. But that makes sense. That’s helpful. Who is this woman and what has she done with Mother Marcia? Kyle wastes no time and rends her in two through angrily pursed lips; he hated it, thought it looked and sounded ridiculous. Mark takes his head out of his hands to ask for medication and then tells her – really fucking harshly – to be an individual who sings in tune and I literally recoil from the venom in his voice. Yeah, she sucked royally but guys – chill, okay? There’s no need to make the girl look like she wants to cry on national television. The vitriol doesn’t stop there though, as Dicko goes straight for the jugular – and when Brianna confesses to not being able to adequately hear herself (remembering that most of these guys have only ever done small intimate gigs where foldback and reverb aren’t really an issue, coupled with Brianna’s other hearing problems) he bitchily tells her to resign off the show. It’s a one, two punch and SHE IS DOWN. Mathieson and G look as taken aback as the rest of us and Jimmy notes that it was one of the more brutal judgements they’ve seen. I hated her performance, but man, I feel so very bad for her.

I’m not a big fan of Paolo Nutini’s version of ‘Jenny’ and I’m not Marty Simpson’s biggest fan either so I should hate this. Oh, look at that, I do, I'm so predicatable. Urgh. PGiddy texts me to wonder why the hell Marty didn’t do some Pearl Jam and the Jam would have rocked, awesome call PGid. A little ‘Jeremy’ or ‘Daughter’ would have been great. He rushes ahead of the band at the beginning and then later falls behind, his timing is shit. His singing is one note and dull, and he’s better than he was last week but it’s so marginally miniscule and I just don’t care. He’s dull. Blah. God, this night sucks.

Kyle quite enjoyed it, he thinks Marty gives the same thing every week and yes, he does Kyle and it is bland and tasteless. He’s the sliced tomato on white bread sandwich of Season Five, he doesn't have any salt or pepper, hell, he isn't even toasted. Mark calls it good song choice and that it suited his raspy voice but that he can see the nerves are still Marty’s BFF. Dicko’s second sane remark of the night is to note that he was rushing all over the place with his pace. Marcia recycles her Lisa Mitchell “you’re just missing your guitar, right honey child?” excuse speech but then makes sense when she tells him he needs to trust the band. God. More sense from Marcia? What the fuck is going on?

Lana Hello Krost-ie (™ Scott) is singing one of my favourite Little Birdy songs ‘Come On, Come On’ and COME ON DARLING, ROCK IT THE FUCK OUT, GIVE ME SOME MOTHERFUCKING ATTITUDE, DON’T BE SO FRIGGING PRETTY. Once again, Lana sings well, but overenunciates and is just so damn safe that it irritates me beyond my threshold of pain. A smoky eye, black jeans and a slightly messy ‘do, do NOT a rock chick make.

Although Mark thinks its good to see her trying to attack the song, it makes him all kinds of uncomfortable in his trouser region watching it (I may be reading between the lines a little there). He does rally magnificently to call it ‘as cutting edge as Dicko’s jawline’. Bwah! And while Dicko says it was better, he brings up the fact that there was no steel behind it, he wants her to start roaring like a tiger and that was just a miaow. Marcia asks her to say the line ‘if you and me aren’t trying I don’t see the point’ again and she says it with the sweetest smile on her face and DUDE. She is going to be fucked over by asshole guys her whole life who will treat her like shit as punishment for being so beautiful. Men will break up with her and she will never know why. Lana, honey, call me, I have bitter to spare. Let me teach you. Kyle wants to know where her confidence has gone and you know what? It’s been eaten away by you four wankers and bitches like me. She was TOO YOUNG to be put in the Semi’s. None of this is her fault. It’s YOURS.

Mathieson calls Jacob Butler so damn ready to rock and roll that his hair already smells like cigarettes and vomit – hah! Pay that man more money! Jacob is strapping on his love for the Gallagher Brothers and his best English accent singing voice to perform Oasis’ ‘What’s The Story (Morning Glory)’. His vocals aren’t as tip top as they’ve been and the mimicking of Liam Gallagher’s phrasing is a little annoying but hell, he’s too busy dashing across stage like a maniac to let that bother him. He lets the band do a lot of the work for him but it’s rocker than any of the others have been so far. He THROWS himself across the stage at the end and I flinch in sympathy for his coccyx.

Dicko thinks he is turning into a potential great lead singer for a tribute band but that his performance was ‘knoblike’. Marcia on the other hand, loved it and Kyle says he’s the first person to come out and actually rock it, calling him a chameleon which Dicko POUNCES on asking who does that in the ‘real world’. Mark loved it but also wants him to pull back, not everything has to be full throttle and then he and Dicko practically scream at each other and look, I know that only about 5% is really them fighting and the rest is for the cameras and normally I would want Dicko to put his fist through Holden’s face so hard that his nose reverts to his original form but on this occasion I think he’s wrong. Now, lets quickly move on before I have to think too hard about agreeing with Mark over Dicko . . .

Ooooh, Tarasai I’m Not Arrogant, I’m Just Drawn That Way Vushe is next and if she does some Joan Jett, I will love her forever. She does not, she is instead giving us Otis Redding’s ‘Hard To Handle’ by way of the Black Crowes. She rocks it out of the park, mixing just the right amount of singing and arrogance that the Rock Gods demand. She is the first Idol this season to get down with the people and reclines on the stage at one point with fathoms of Look At Me, I’m GREAT insouciance.

Marcia asks her to selfevaluate and Tarasai tries for Humble, which isn’t quite as convincing as the arrogance was; darling we can see that you think you’re ace, GO WITH IT. Kyle loves her just a little bit more each week, even if he doesn’t think that was her best performance, he just wants her to be rock solid every week because she’s fantastic. Mark really likes that she moved out of her comfort zone and approached Rock Week with 100% commitment. Dicko thinks she may need to go to Rock School and Tarasai barely restrains herself from sneering down her nose – actually, she does sneer a little – as she smirks that she doesn’t think she needs that at all, thank you pasty old middle class dude.

Ben Moppet McKenzie continues to impress me with the rather high levels of adorableness he reaches and is the second contestant tonight to do a Little Birdy song, when did The Kids become Little Birdy fans? Did I miss a memo? I so want him to do well while he sings ‘Bodies’ that I lean forward, mouthing the words with him like a stage mother. He infuses it with a nice set of energy and enthusiasm and his voice is adequately rock . . . ish and then he well and truly hits his strides about halfway through and yay! I like it when he’s good! Go Moppet!!

Kyle makes my skin visibly crawl by calling Moppet ‘poncy’. Grah. Fuck off Sandilands, he might be effete or fey but PONCY, that’s a horrid word, you mangy dog. Mark calls him a real puzzle, a guy with a great voice but who is coming across as Jamie Redfern – and way to play to the Idol demographic there Holden, you dipshit. Dicko kind of laughs that it was more effeminate than the Little Birdy version and says he can’t wait for Disco. Marcia says it was the first time she saw him uncomfortable on stage, he’s usually the most rock solid, but she still loves his voice, calling him the finest and most natural singer of the comp and she loved how he broke it down and incorporated his style AND WHO IS THIS WOMAN AND WHY DOES SHE SUDDENLY MAKE SENSE?

The Daniel Mehsdud Misfud Top Twelve Scarf Watch takes a CRACKING leap forward – there are FIVE different scarves in his package, bringing our total to seven. Daniel is bringing the Hendrix and singing ‘Fire’. He cheesily Callea Points and smirks down the camera as he asks if he can stand next to my fire and good god, no you may not, young man, you may however stand IN it and burn to a tiny-chest-hair-cheesy-fondue-shaped crisp. Ewwwww. I rewatch his performance later, with the sound turned down because I just can’t stand him singing this song and count in total five Callea Points and one Callea Hand Reach. No amount of chest hair will distract Fosse from his writhing pain and Mehsdud tops out his Dead To Me list quite early in the season and I quite frankly would prefer that he goes over Brianna. I’d rather listen to shrill (and I also think she’ll ace Disco next week) then put up with him and his stupid hair, I don’t CARE how damn bouncy it is.

Mark thinks Daniel lit up the stage and hit a lot of the ladies buttons and I still get full body shudders thinking of him staring cheesily down the camera wanting to stand next to my fire, gah. Shake it off, shake it off. Dicko thinks his voice has mellow Hendrix tones and that was a great song choice. Marcia returns to form by stating she loves to see the Idols enjoy themselves and I wonder if she has cameras in the rooms at the mansion. Kyle references Donny Osmond (but at least knows the kids won't get it, Mark) and calls it lame and THANK GOD one of the judges isn’t wearing blinkers when it comes to this guy. He notes it had a churchy feel to it, rather than a rock n roll one but then said it still sounded relatively good and I throw my hands up in the air with despair. Then wave them around like I just don’t care. Because I DON’T.

Natalie Last Girl Standing Gauci is repeat offending the Guns N Roses track ‘Sweet Child Of Mine’ which Taaaaaaaaaaaaarni from Season Three vowelled her way through. She starts off pretty mellow, sitting nicely with her legs together like a good girl in a short skirt on a high seat should and its all very nice but where is the grunt . . . . there it is! She loses some of my love for Callea Pointing and smiling inanely whilst singing but she brings the rock to the ‘where do we go’ bit and then slows it right down for the end. Love her! Love!!

Dicko. Bah. Dicko laments her song choice and calls it soft rock when performed by Natalie. Marcia is as confused as the rest of us that her end of the table is making sense this week and notes that Natalie isn’t a tall, skinny, blonde guy (no Marcia, you’re right, she isn’t. Now put down the gun and let the hostages go, we’ll get you some pizza and we’ll talk about all this craziness together, there’s a good girl – damnit, it’s no fun making fun of Marcia when she’s MAKING SENSE) and that she imbued it with light and shade and referenced it from a girls point of view. Kyle hates hates HATES rock week. He thought he might get some Pink or something modern, but no, it ends up being all this naff old eighties and older rock and he doesn’t like it. Then he picks on her clothing and appears to narrowly miss out on a cracking head butt from Mother Marcia. Mark liked that she started off so sweetly but feels she lost it when the guitars kicked in – huh, I think the opposite and I’m usually right. At least in my lounge room anyway.

The Only Guy Who Must Nail This Weeks Theme Or Be Pointed At And Mocked And Have To Join A Kiddie Band Like High5 To Survive The Indignity, Mark RunMdC da Costa is bringing us some AC/CD. I award points for band choice and then deduct based on song. ‘High Voltage’? I’d have gone with ‘Long Way To The Top’ or I’d have insisted on going first and done ‘For Those About To Rock’. Ha! That would be great and then HILARIOUS in hindsight after tonight’s performances. I know he’s this season’s Rock God but this performance is actually a little underwhelming. There are better AC/DC songs to pick and by GOD, I never actually thought I’d write that in conjunction with Australian Idol. He rock sings (that is to say, screechily bellows) it well but it is also a little too polite. Hell, they’ve all been too polite. Bon Scott’s ghost could kick RunMdC’s ass with one arm tied behind his back. It is still one of the best performances of the night.

Marcia drowns in a sea of her own drool noting that he looks sharp and that’s it, so bye bye Sensible Talking Marcia, she’s done. Kyle acknowledges that it takes a certain kind of man to be able to pull off skinny jeans (and I note that now that he doesn’t want to be HotCarl’s boyfriend anymore, maybe he wants to help RunMdC pull off those skinny jeans, if you know what I mean and I think you do because I’m not being terribly unclear here). Holden says RunMdC is coasting and he wants him out of his comfort zone and Holden you can go backstage and watch Kyle help him out of the jeans if you want to see uncomfortable. Dicko blathers that it took eleven perfs to get a decent rock one and whatever Ian, I’m not listening to you at all tonight, please try not to mix up yours and Marcia’s medications next week, thanks. Mathieson comes out and rock growls at RunMdC and practically makes out with him, G and Kyle just look on jealously.

So. The worst EVER Idol show? I think so. Collectively, a whole heaping stankpile of hooey, with only Moppet, RunMdC, Natalie, Tarasai and Jacob really elevating themselves above it. Realistically based on the last two performances, the bottom two should not be anyone else but Brianna and Mehsdud. Lana did enough to keep herself here for another week and HotCarl and Matt Corby didn’t embarrass themselves enough to lose that many fans. Brianna probably to go, I don’t think even the incredible meanness of the judges and the inevitable viewer backlash will save her.

Twelve is six/eight too many

Right kids, this is it. Top Twelve. You are all eleven cut throats away from a guaranteed number One album and hordes of screaming adoring fans - who granted, will potentially forget your name after the third time they've played your cookie cutter single on their iPods, but still, cool, yeah? So no fucking around, no safe songs, nothing recorded before Ben McKenzie (hereafter referred to as Moppet) was born, nothing twee, nothing basically from the Julia Roberts soundtrack oeuvre. Unless HotCarl does Elvis Costello’s ‘She’ from Notting Hill, or Moppet wants to Moppet up ‘King Of Wishful Thinking’ from Pretty Woman. Hah! That would be ace. Huh. HotCarl is wearing a disappointing and suspicious hat.

Aaagh. Moppet has the unfortunate Up First Spot, I hope that’s not his death knell I hear tolling in the distance. His mum is aDORable and so is his sister. Do they need another family member? G calls the Maroon 5 song ‘Sunday Morning’ a classic, can it technically be classified as a classic when it was only released like three years ago? I have older pasta in the back of my pantry. He starts perched at the back of the new Idol stage that from an aerial viewpoint, vaguely resembles Batman’s underwear. Just me? Right. Anyway, it’s a gorgeous little Moppet-ised stripped down version, he sings it beautifully, soulful and lovely but that dreaded first damn spot – it’s a killer this early in the piece. Will the viewers remember him?

Mark finds it just so impressive that someone so young can be so laid back – he is a seemingly effortless performer – but thinks that was weird song choice and wants more emotional depth from him. Dicko loved his song choice and says he’s setting himself up as Australia’s Favourite Younger Brother and I already have one of those but I’d be totally cool with two. I join the long line of people wanting to adopt Ben. Marcia congratulates him on opening the show – seriously, sucky slot. Kyle calls it perfect song choice and says as crazy, nutty and ADD as he is backstage, he always pulls it into focus when he’s on stage.

I wandered into the kitchen during Mark da Costa’s package so I don’t know if his family rocks, but Fosse assures me his brother was also hot so yay for genetics! MdC is singing ‘Vertigo’ by U2, not my favourite song from not my favourite band but this is high tempo rock and also roll and he performs it well. He gets the occasional scaredy stare and the vocals are a little shouty and ragged AND there’s no need to actually kneel when you get to the bit where you’re singing about kneeling, Mark.

Dicko thought it was slightly mannered – amen Brother Dickson, preach to me – but that he looks a little like a young Keith Moon and he should bring more of that, just with less of the early horrific cliché rock death. Marcia loves him yada yada, she felt that, blah de blah. Kyle thought it was almost too safe and needs him to live it a little more as it looked like he was thinking too much, which frankly is not usually a problem for most rockers, Mark, tuck away the grey matter, no need for it here. Mark loves what he does, the constant surprise as he shows there’s more to him and then G does a little man flirting and gives us Mark’s number. I notice that MdC has dreamy brown eyes (I’m a little fixated on both eyes and dreamy as I saw Hairspray on Friday and perved muchly on the very very young but hot Zac Efron)

Lana Krost sings both ‘Torn’ and ‘Beautiful’ in her package, so its not that surprising that she’s singing a Natalie Imbruglia song ‘Shiver’. What the hell is she wearing? Are they formal shorts? I don’t get kids today or their crazy fashion. Her vocals are a little flat but still very 'pretty' and proper and safe. Her lower register is really quite lacking and she still has no emotional resonance with her material.

Marcia thinks it was a great song choice and is pleased she’s moving away from the theatrical, which, true – there was less of the Musical Theatre Hand Gesturing going on tonight. Kyle also thinks it was better than last time but that he wants to see what her mum sees when she watches Lana sing. Mark calls it a big improvement because she’s not a natural pop singer, he wants her to sing less because she’s holding the notes too long. He also wants her to work on her higher register. Meh, I thought her high was fine, but her low sucked. Dicko rules because he tells her it was another Teacher’s Pet performance and that she has no raw physicality on stage. She does come across a little . . . empty. He calls it a soap star performance, that it’s not real. Dicko and I nod sagely together. We are so wise and allknowing.

Sidebar : Daniel Radcliffe AND Zac Efron? Man, they really want me to watch Rove, don’t they?

The Daniel Misfud Top Twelve Scarf Watch count takes off with a bang with two making an appearance early on in his package. Someone got him high this week because he’s melding Justin Timberlake’s gorgeous pissed off with Britney ballad ‘Cry Me A River’ with some Led Zeppelin. I don’t know what to do with that. If you ignore the fact that he sings it WILDLY badly, the songs actually fit together but his falsetto is JUST so god awful and strained and painful that I just want it to STOP. Irish has obviously taken the Idol Falsetto on tour and is in no hurry to return it because ewww. No. The screaming fangirlies scream screamily. Shut up, you idiots, he was awful, I don’t care how high his hair is.

Kyle reluctantly agrees with me, saying that on paper it sounded awesome but that in reality it was a bit of a mess. Mark shakes his head and notes that there was no soul in it and that you can do a decent job of arranging and make it work for you but not if you’re not working for it also. Dicko says he burns up the screen but that the whole thing just collapsed into a heap a few times and that it ended up a real mess. Marcia loves JT and if she’s sitting in the same section as Shaneequa and I when we go see him in November, I will march over to her and tell her what I’m talking about. She rabbits on about how much the ladies love the JT and yeah Marcia, we do, he has a fucking awesome natural falsetto, he can dance, he has a great sense of humour (please go to YouTube and watch this) and he’s remarkably hot, hence the squillions of dollars and the sex with Cameron Diaz and Jessica Biel.

Oh sweet jeebus, they show HotCarl in his uniform, playing his trumpet AND riding his motorcycle. Guys, you’re KILLING me. Also, continuing the tradition of awesome Idol Parentals, his dad is very cute. I want HotCarl to sing My Funny Valentine SO badly I downloaded Matt Damon doing it from The Talented Mr Ripley soundtrack. Waltzing Matilda? Oh man. Why? No, really, why? I get the patriotic thing, but no. I don’t care how swinging he gets, how cute he is or how well he sings it, it is STILL WALTZING FREAKING MATILDA. And that hat is stupid. The crowd goes nuts? Huh?

Mark tells him his instincts are right on the button. What? Dicko loves the diversity he brings and calls it a great song choice. For real? Am I asleep and this is some horrid Idol shaped dream and not the really nice one I had recently where Mathieson and I had to cuddle together for warmth or something and you guys, Mathieson is a great cuddler and also a really good kisser and I’ve said too much. Marcia ghetto MMMM’s into her microphone and are the judges on crack? What did I miss that made that great? Was I watching the wrong show? Kyle rights all wrongs by telling HotCarl he couldn’t stand it – THANK ALL THAT IS MIGHTY ON THIS EARTH. He calls it naff and HotCarl replies saying he’s showing off his Aussie and if that’s how his freak flag flies, then he should have put on a slouch hat or a baggy green and not that GOD awful trilby thing. I am crushed and have officially downgraded him from HotCarl to TepidCarl.

Holly Weinert and her boyfriend act out Ghost in their pottery barn. Snigger. She's singing . . . what the hell is she singing? The who? The Gossip . . . okay . . . 'scalled what? 'Standing In The Way Of Control' . . . ‘kay . . . she's wearing some 1970's disco queen Olivia Newton John circa Xanadu shiny pants that should be stricken from public consumption but to be fair she is sexily growling the hell out of this song I've never heard of in my life, in a manner that is quite magnificent.

Dicko's eyes pop because he didn't think any of the chicks would give MdC a run for his money in the rock stakes and there she went, but he isn't fond of her song choice, although he notes that her voice has a touch of the Kim Wilde and OHMYGOD, that's who she reminds me of when she sings, yes! This is the only song performed tonight that is NOT one of Marcia's favourites, in fact she's also never heard of it, but she did dig the performance. Kyle tells Holly it was like Patti Newton on crack and both Mark and I need to take a moment because Sandilands? Sometimes it IS worth it having you on the show. Mark loved the visual impact of the perf but calls the song choice a big risk, and harks back to young Reigan Derry's perf last year of a Karnivool song and to be fair Mark, I think Holly’s was a thousand times better than Reigan's where she mis-howled that final note, breaking eardrums nation wide.

Matt Corby was born the same year that I . . . never mind, he’s young, I’m old. Our hair is about the same length and that’s all I think I may have in common with him. He’s doing Coldplay’s ‘The Scientist’ which is a very good song choice for him, gives him lots of opportunity to sing earnestly down the camera, looking beseechingly into the eyes of the Dolly magazine set nationwide while their Hello Kitty mobiles charge in readiness for texting his name. He does have remarkably pretty eyes. I just want to hold him down and clipper his hair. Hey, if TepidCarl wants to upgrade again to HotCarl and retain his patriotism, he can sing ‘Click Go The Shears, Boy’ whilst actually shearing Matt’s hair to a decent length; then we can talk. He sings this really quite well, holding the notes nicely and gives us a decent falsetto. There does seem to be a touch of the nerves, but he’s pulling this off nicely, there is a lovely sense of restraint.

Marcia loved the melodic simplicity and execution of it. Kyle goes WAY overboard by urging everyone to stand and applaud because Matt is such a star. Mark is beside himself that this year’s Dean Geyer is actually pretty damn talented and lauds him for being a sixteen year old who can just walk out and pitch straight into a great falsetto and feel the lyric the way he did. Dicko hunches down in his seat because he knows he’s about to be VERY unpopular – he doesn’t want to rain on everyone’s parade but when Chris Martin sings that song he infuses it with tension and Matt stripped it completely of that and made it really loungey. I don’t know, I’m okay with Matt’s take on it Dicko. Matt replies that he’s not Chris Martin and he’s not married to Gwyneth Paltrow with two rather silly named children and he’ll sing it how he likes and then also name his daughter Fork Manual and his son Chair DVD if he wants, so there.

Hey! Natalie Gauci is bossy – is she a virgo? I’ll bet she is. They show her as a kid wearing the most adorable little pink tutu just to prove that she has always been freaking gorgeous. She’s singing Powderfinger’s ‘On My Mind’ and she’s given it a from-the-soundtrack-of-Robert-Rodriguez’s-latest-movie-set-in-Mexico feel. The arrangement is great, her singing is top notch and it’s all very sleek and slick and I feel Bernard and the rest of the Finger boys would be well chuffed with this. However, she is wearing what are quite possibly the ugliest shoes on the planet that shorten her legs and make her look about two feet tall. She rocks the end out. Niiiiiiiice.

Kyle thinks it was excellent, that it looks sexy and that the vocal was great. Mark says he loves it when a woman takes on a man’s song and takes it somewhere new. Dicko loves how she always puts a twist on pop songs and looks like he just holds back from growling approvingly at her as he tells her it was the best performance so far. Marcia loves her some Finger (dirty) and says they helped Natalie find her mojo, which is good because Nat’s had fliers up and was offering a reward for the safe return of that. G simperingly smiles at her that he also thinks Bernard would have dug that – he is SO besotted with her, its very cute.

You know, Jacob Butler is turning out to be cuter then I ever remembered him being on X Factor. He’s wearing a gorgeous plush red coat and singing The Killers’ ‘When We Were Young’. He’s borrowed some spazzy dance moves from Jack Brynes and actually this performance reminds me of Lukas Rossi, the Season Two winner of Rockstar – not that Lukas ever did this song, I think that was Toby. It’s actually a pretty infectious performance and I like it – great vocals!

Mark wants his jacket back. He loved the song choice and says the best thing is that Jacob is starting to sing with his eyes as well as his voice, which is hard because often the only note your eyes can hit is high C. I’m so sorry. Dicko was worried because he loves the song and was initally concerned because Jacob needs to stop being a contestant and start being an artist, but says that the performance was a revelation. Marcia’s Favourite Song List jumps up to five thousand six hundred and eighty two with the addition of ‘WWWY’. Are there ANY songs this woman doesn’t like? Can someone rock out Nine Inch Nails song ‘Closer’ as a litmus test? Kyle hopes that the audience at home got as much out of the performance as those in the studio did because he’s the real deal. Mathieson and G also seem to really like him, there’s a real warmth when they’re reading out his numbers.

Belting baby Tarasai Vushe is diva-ing up Alicia Keyes number ‘If I Were Your Woman’ and I pre-emptively rolled my eyes. Also, she looks a little too much like a fourteen year old for me to be entirely comfortable with her doing this . . . until she starts singing and damn. It’s amazing. Holy effing crap. Do I like this season’s Screaming Belter? The hell? She holds back on the gymnastics and just sings the song and that’s the kind of belting I like. And I know she’s only tiny, but by god, her mouth is HUGE. When she’s powerhousing her mouth takes up three quarters of her face. Nice teeth and gums, Tarasai.

Dicko finds it gratifying that she built the song, structuring it nicely and making her way up to the big notes. Marcia just looks like a proud mama and clucks happily. Kyle says he just can’t wait for Australia to really get to know the backstage Tarasai because she’s a strange one. And really really short. Mark is still not quite ready to let go of Emily Williams and berates Tarasai for being pitchy. The hell? I immediately phone Shaneequa who has a much better ear for that then I do and she concurs. Obviously my stunned and shocked state at finding myself actively liking The Screaming Belter has deafened me to the flaws in that performance.

Marty I’d Rather Be Surfing Simpson didn’t listen to my instructions earlier in the show and is doing an OLD song by The Police, ‘Can't Stand Losing You’. He really loves that whole rasta pop thing and it’s a shame he chose this song because his voice naturally lends itself to John Butler, in fact it may actually be borrowed from John Butler who is currently in shock at being without the facility of speech. It does not translate to Sting in any way whatsoever and this is basically a dull performance of a dull song. It’s still better then Misfud though.

Marcia asks him if that was okay and of course it wasn’t Marcia, you saw it, right? She tells him not to let his nerves blow this for him. Kyle says it got lost a few times and although he liked the song choice he can see that there’s something breaking him at the moment. Marty answers that he’s missing his git-ar and Kyle barks back that he needs to get rid of that failing. You know, OR they could just bloody let them have their instruments from the beginning. Whatever you bring into the original audition, you should be able to carry it through to any performance you want, damn it. Mark wants him to tell a story and blathers about surfing and I zone out until Dicko speaks. Dicko thinks he was one of the most unique voices in the Top 12 but that he’s so laid back he’s horizontal and needs to get perpendicular. I don’t know about that, I don’t think being too laid back is his issue, I think the nerves are killing him.

They show wacky Brianna Carpenter playing her gorgeous original song ‘Jacqueline’ again in her package and I tell you, she isn’t going to win this show but I would buy a CD of her original stuff right freaking now because that song is LOVELY. Tonight she is singing one of my all time favourite songs, the Beach Boys classic (yes, G, this one IS a classic), ‘God Only Knows’. She starts off a capella and the beginning is kind of nice, her voice floats around in the atmosphere and it’s not too bad. But then it gets kind of bad. Sigh. The Courtjester, Courtney Murphy, sang this in Season Two and had me in tears, he was so good. This almost has me in tears for entirely different reasons. She significantly messes up some notes, and sounds ear blisteringly over sharp at times. Oh Brianna.

Kyle shakes his head and opines that it hurts him to say it, but he didn’t mind it although it did run off the rails a few times. Mark loves her originality but picks up on the pitchy bits, noting that she dropped more than a few bum notes. Dicko is over her cutesy acting already and wants her to stop it and just sing. Marcia says she loves her quirkiness (because it means she won’t last long, right Marcia?) but warns her to watch her pitch and I can already see the gleeful hatred creeping into Marcia’s eyes.

Standouts : Moppet, Jacob, Holly, Natalie, Matt and Tarasai. To go? Probably one of the girls – Holly maybe, even though if we were going off tonight's performances it would be Daniel Misfud, bringing the Daniel MisfudTop Twelve Scarf Watch to an abrupt and early end. But I don’t think it will be one of the guys, they usually have a lot of support at this point, although Joseph Gatehau did go this early last year . . . so fingers crossed it's Misfud or Marty. NOT MOPPET. Go vote for Ben now kids . . .

Aces are high, the judges too . . .

It’s Wildcard! Or we can call it by its official name, ‘Sausage Fest Plus Two Chicks and Marcia: 2007’, as once again, they have stacked the competition by putting mainly boys through to the Wildcard round – now I understand fully and completely the need to look at pretty pretty boys as they serenade me with their pretty pretty voices, I am a total girly sap who melts at the mere thought of my current guy wooing me with a sweetly sung song about us, together, forever. And in lieu of there being a current boy singing at me who does not live inside my television, I’m more than happy to live vicariously through Idol, convinced that G is flirting with me, knowing that Dicko and I could find True Love if only he was twenty years younger and if he never saw Holden again, sighing over that lovely Irish boy with his succulent falsetto . . . I totally get all that and I’m happy to have Mark da Costa and HotCarl immediately forwarded through to the Top 12. But Dave Andrews? Look, he’s cute and all, but no, this spot was reserved for Cheray Doughty. And Husny Thalib? He’s funny and cute in a fey, pirate-y way but this spot was reserved for either Jesse Curran or Sally van der Zwarte. In no known universe should those two boys have taken the spot of any of those incredibly talented lasses and I could smack both Holden and Dicko for putting them through. It is OFFICIALLY time for the show’s control to be HANDED OVER TO ME. Thank you.

First Odd(ie)-ly dancing cab off the rank is Jack I Like Him So Shut Up Byrnes who is putting his own little soul patch imprint on to the Doobie Brothers classic ‘Long Train Running’, which I would have sworn was called ‘Without Love’, proving I know SHIT about music history and DO need to take Prof Dicko’s Class On Stuff You Should Know About The Music Industry. Just watching Jack’s high octane energetically spazzy performance is exhausting me. He gets a little too into the groove and loses his vocal control slightly in places but this song has the coolest guitar riff and he’s just a really good singer and it, hell it just works. Weirdly, but it works.

Mark loves his energy and thinks he’s imminently likeable but feels he’s only three quarters of the way along and is just singing the song and not telling a story – he’s only three quarters of the way? Dude, another quarter may just KILL him. Dicko marvels at the little niche corner of the Idol market Jack is carving for himself, the white soul boy niche, and thinks he picks great songs (he really does) but that he’s still lacking that last bit of finesse, and that his movements around the stage reminded him of an old lady winning at bingo. Marcia’s uppers haven’t kicked in yet and she gets what the guys are saying and rather sensibly tells him he needs to find a place, even within an energetic performance, to be still within himself – as a performer, this actually makes a lot of sense, you can be losing your shit magnificently on stage but you still need to be able to draw back and see your own performance, otherwise you become horridly self indulgent. Rather like these essay length recaps . . . annnyway, Kyle thinks he’s only about five percent off and that he gets up there and LIVES LARGE. If Jack doesn’t get the audience vote, I hope the judges put him through.

Husny Thalib NOT dancing madly across stage like he has a live badger down his pants and instead standing stock still and emoting? Doesn’t work. Mostly because he has one arm stiffly held at his side like he’s had his hand chopped off in a fight to the death against a vampire with a soul and then this evil law firm he works for gave him another hand, an eeeevil hand that moves as though independent from his body, throttling the innocent and slapping babies, so he’s gaffa taped it to his side to keep it from hurting anyone. (God, I miss Angel). Anyway, Husny’s singing is nice and sweet but wholly unremarkable. His version of Blessed Union of Soul’s ‘I Believe’ is passionate but just not good enough or wacky enough. Katisha on TWoP noted that he’s very Eurovision and she’s TOTALLY right – if Australia ever gets to compete in that competition, Husny is Our Man.

Dicko talks about the bumfight there was on the judging panel when Mark said he was putting Husny through, that Mark thinks Husny has star quality – and Dicko sees it, but he thinks it might be better suited to fashion rather than performing and that he has to work really hard, for very little. Harsh, but fair. Marcia was really impressed with his performance and thinks the voting public may love him more than Dicko thinks. Kyle tells him that as lovely as he is, that it just doesn’t work for this show, if it was Nice Guy Idol, he would win (Dave Andrews later completely throws Husny to the ground and takes pole position for that title). Mark loves Husny’s stage presence because he burns up the camera. He calls the performance straight from the heart and thinks people will either love him or hate him.

G’s sneakers are incredibly white.

HotCarl Risely is Harry Connick Jr-ing a version of The Everly Brother’s ‘Bye Bye Baby’. This song really showcases his range quite nicely and I love his scat throw to the band – however, he doesn’t capitalise on it and the physical movement actually leaves him a little breathless and his voice weakens, but he rallies for a lovely ending – although the scat trumpet goes on a little too long.

Marcia is SO in love with this boy, she raves about his flavour (he looks like he might taste like toffee . . . just me? Right.) and tells him he’s so smooth and cool, it’s dynamite. Kyle is SO in love with this boy, he tells him he looks exactly the part but that he needs to make more ‘sexy face’ and to demonstrate gives HotCarl a ‘come to bed’ look and my ovaries literally just shrivelled up and DIED. But then HotCarl does it back and they SPRING back to life – hallelujah! Mark thinks he looks great on screen but that his personality isn’t coming through and tells him he needs to sing the song to someone – ooooh, I volunteer!! Me!! Sing to me HotCarl!! Dicko hopes that HotCarl hasn’t left his run too late because he’s just getting to where he needs to be, but don’t do the scat again – that way madness lies and he gets enough of the gobbledegook from Holden. Dicko brings up Axle Whitehead from Season One whose scat was NEVER as good as HotCarl’s Dicko, so why compare, why bring him into this, why ask where it’s left Axle now? Why? Purely so that Mathieson can dryly note that Axel isn’t on tv anymore because he scatted, but because he got his knob out (which he did - for those not aware, Axle flashed his tackle at the Aria's a few years back, although apparently just his balls and not his actual penis. I'm sorry for sharing this with you and just as sorry that I once YouTubed it). HAH! Brilliance, and funnier still because the person with their finger on the cough button mistimes James’ use of the word knob and ends up bleeping out the word ‘on’ instead. I giggle throughout the next set of commercials in hysterics.

Sarah Lloyde is, oh good god, she’s going to try Xtina’s ‘Candyman’. Ouch. Xtina really harmonises that song with her own voice, you’re actually hearing multiple Xtina backing vocals all at once, Sarah and the backing singers just don’t cut it. And frankly if you don’t have Benji from So You Think You Can Dance, swing dancing with you, what’s the point? She hits the right mix of cheeky mingled with wide eyed blonde Monroe sexuality but there doesn’t feel like there’s enough actual singing in this, it’s just like when Anthony Callea did ‘Carwash’ and it was a song of him just going ‘oooooh, aaaaaahhhh Car Wash, Car Wash, ooooooh aaaaaaaah’. I don’t know if this is the performance to get her through over Natalie Gauci, who is her only real competition here, if the public doesn’t put through a girl, the judges will and based on tonight I think it would be Natalie over Sarah.

Kyle knows she has a great voice – we all do – but calls it disappointing, too many holes and all he could hear were the BV’s. Mark also applauds the backing vocals and calls them primo and then asks her how SHE thought she went and that’s never a good sign, Sarah. She thinks it was just under what she could do and Mark thinks, of course, that that song should have had the male portion of the panel needing defibrillation and that she turned sassy into safe and then lapses into trademark Holden Babble, saying it didn’t burn his bippy/bibby – we need a Holden dictionary so I know how to spell the bullshit he comes out with, honestly. Dicko says that is a TOUGH song to do and talks about the massive amount of production value there is on that song – I’ve seen Xtina do it on the Grammy’s or the MTV awards, something, she was wearing this great white suit and a jaunty hat, and even she didn’t pull this song off. Dicko compares the video and type of song it is to being almost a period musical theatre piece. He really wants her to ahead but tells her its about picking the right song for her and her target audience. Mark can’t shut up about her connection with the song and understanding the lyric but he’s just so fucking snide about it, so Dicko patiently explains that because of her ‘journey’, they know she has the raw material to invest her songs with raw emotion. Marcia tells her she’s pretty as a picture and calls her courageous to try that song on. She also says Sarah needs to split the difference between the dancing and the singing to make sure she doesn’t overload her breathing and why is Marcia making sense today?

Dave Andrews, whose song choice has previously been safe and a little dull, is sticking with what he knows best, because he’s doing ‘Dolpins Fucking Cry’ by Live. God. Didn’t Dave just turn out to be remarkably vanilla flavoured. His lower range fails him and this is just not going to cut it, dude. He tries to rock it out but doesn’t even pebble. Mark da Costa must be stifling a grin because no one is taking the Rock off him . . .

Mark sighs that they really like him but the problem with that was ambitious song choice (ambitious? Huh, my dictionary says ‘boring’, we need the same version Mark, mine is a Websters) and he name checks Vanessa Amorosi because she used to sing it and Vanessa and Mark are Bestest Buddies because he once managed her right into obscurity, but nonetheless that’s a tough ass song to try and Dave still has too much to work on because that was well out of his depth. Dicko sits Dave down and tells him a bedtime story about Fool’s Gold and how Marcia once told him some performers have one really golden performance in them and that is it, after that they are empty ciphers and Dicko never really believed that until Dave. Marcia disagrees because she saw that Dave dug that and AI is a learning process and the people you work with help you blossom and Dave is a beautiful flower or some such bollocks. Kyle thinks he’s gone from being a contender to underperforming and some contestants get to this stage and slip and Dave has landed on a snake and not a ladder. Dave compounds on his personal awesomeness by saying how hard it is and how honest the judges are and how brilliantly talented everyone is and the respect he has for them and I awwwwwwww from my living room because he is a really decent guy. And then G calls him Dave Anderson instead of Andrews and Mathieson nods that its good that Holden got his prerequisite Vanessa A reference out of the way early this year and I giggle more because that’s what I said, James! Let’s have dinner!

Big haired scarf wearing Daniel Misfud has the blandest taste in music because he’s singing Roachford’s blahfest ‘Lay Your Love On Me’; sans scarf but with an ALMIGHTY plethora of chest hair and Fosse isn’t home to watch this but when he sees it he’s going to bankrupt himself to get Daniel into the Top 12 where he can further prove his hirsuteness because Fosse likes a hairy man. Daniel once again sings well but he’s just uninspiring and slightly insipid. And his habit of smiling like a chipmunk while he sings just bugs.

Dicko finds it gratifying that a contestant is listening to them and his conversation with Daniel about building architecture (fuck, I love the way he puts that) within his songs so he has somewhere to go and that Dicko’s girls told him not to bother coming home if he was mean to Daniel but he’s being nice even though they forgot Father’s Day. Oh, that’s not right. Not even some burnt toast and weak tea in bed? Adopt me Dicko, I can operate the Big Girl’s Stove, I’ll do you some bacon and eggs with garlic mushrooms and tomato and my coffee is GREAT! Marcia is a huge fan of the song and is glad he started mellow and built it and I just don’t get the judge-y love they give him but there it is – if he doesn’t get in through audience vote, he’s a shoo-in for Judge’s Choice. Kyle also adores him and calls it the kind of performance that will get him to the Opera House. Yeeeeeeeaaah, just not seeing it kids. Mark thinks he’s a contender but that there’s a mechanical-ness about what he’s doing (thank you!) and like Jack, he’s singing across the notes and still only hitting about 95-98%. Eh, I think Jack’s a better performer and singer.

Hot tamale Natalie Gauci is making her original semi final perf up to me by doing ‘Feeling Good’ and she even names the original chanteuse Nina Simone and her version and not Michael Buble’s (although, that is also an AWESOME version). She croons and makes sweet love to the first bit until she gets to the big, hip swaying, heart pounding, blood thumping finale and she rips it to shreds and drops it at our feet and DARES us not to worship her. I immediately obey and salaam in her direction.

Marcia lets loose with her first official ‘that’s what I’m talking about’ of the season, huzzah! Her vocal gymnastics were nice and tasteful and at the end she held a nice strong note, props. Kyle notes the HUGE difference from last time because she was comfortable and it was a great song choice and he LOVED it. Mark asks if her song choice was a statement about getting a second chance and he could really feel it, she was a total breath of fresh air. It was surprising, brave, her vocal control was incredible and had pure, sweet and strong notes. Dicko loves her brilliant ability to pick songs that are just left of centre enough. He loves her but hates her wardrobe, noting that when he sees her during the week she’s comfortable and looks great, like a muso but she gets on stage in some dodgy gear. G has the biggest fucking crush on her because he kind of sidles up and blushingly tells her she looks fantastic and that her performance was smoking. And then he makes out with her with his eyes. She is scorchingly hot. I approve of this crush, G.

Natalie Gauci and Mark da Costa could have the most adorable brunette children EVER, oh! And they should totally adopt Moppet Ben McKenzie too! Mark is rejigging a song he already did at the Seymour Centre, ‘Evie Part One’ and frankly, Chris Murphy needed his guitar, a bigger crowd and his patented Jack Black head flick to make this work and Mark juuuuust misses. His singing is great, but he goes to leap off the stage and looks disappointed that there’s no way for him to crowd surf the family and friends sitting courtside. But his singing is good enough to surely get him through, as a rock dude or chick we must have and so far, we don’t.

Kyle calls him one of the best rock singers we’ve got but couldn’t hear his high notes because the crowd was too loud – poor Nanna Sandilands. Mark really wants him to get through so he can truly Perform with a proper sized audience and I must agree that will kick ass. Dicko thinks the AI audience is only just waking up to him and that he’s putting the fear of god into the current Top Eight, saying how we’ve all just seen a GREAT perf from Natalie but that he thinks Mark is the best performer in the comp. Marcia just loves his energy – careful Mark, she’s like a basilisk, if you look directly at her she’ll stun you into a coma and suck you dry. She notes that he knows how to really work the room and chose one of the best rock songs in the world – eh, I think Evie only works live, recorded versions make me switch channels, it’s an overly dull long song. She loves what he brings to the comp, yes Marcia, his sweet sweet lovely tasting energy, mmmmm . . .

And that’s it. Last ditch chance’s done and dusted. There are five performers who should realistically go through – Jack, Sarah (on her previous perf), HotCarl (on this one), Natalie and Mark. If ANYONE puts Husny through over these five, one of whom is going to miss out anyway, I shall be wearing my Cranky Face ALL day tomorrow.

(Unless they pull another Roxanne LeBrasse and put all five of them through . . . please?)