American Idol Fan Site | Who got voted off American Idol

We the people, love to judge. Love it. We’re bursting with opinions and always compelled to express and share them.

This explains why 33 million people in a typical week watch American Idol, even if a goodly number of them are grown-ups whose record collections include things like Phil Ochs, the Ramones and The Ozzman Cometh.

We know it’s shallow, and we know we won’t buy the music later — unless a singer turns out to be as wicked cool as Kelly Clarkson (Burleson, represent!).

But we still watch, because we’re all judges. “Paris was terrific last night, but Bucky was a bit pitchy,” we say, “and he shouldn’t have worn his hair down. And could Kellie Pickler be wearing any more rouge?”

So, we the people, in order to form a more perfect American Idol, must air a few of our quibbles — the things that have been sticking in our craw. There are many, but because we’re down to eight finalists, we thought we’d restrict our complaints to eight. As we hurtle toward the May 23-24 finale, we give you . . . eight things that need to stop:

Voter apathy
American Idol fans must have amnesia. It’s a pattern: About halfway through the season, they forget to rock the vote, and this eventually causes a seismic shift. Take the shocking bottom three from last week: Paris Bennett, Elliott Yamin and Mandisa — three of the best singers in the competition, none of whom had previously been in the bottom three. In the end, it was powerhouse vocalist Mandisa who got the boot. Fans should’ve recalled the lesson from the travesty of 2004, when two of the best — Jennifer Hudson and La Toya London — got voted out before the weak-voiced Jasmine Trias. (And yet, I still remember how La Toya knocked Barbra Streisand’s Don’t Rain on My Parade out of the park.) But if we’re sticking to the pattern, the votes should have self-corrected last night, and Bucky should be in the danger zone during tonight’s results show.

Ace Young and his goofy pointing
This hottie-patottie has clearly read every page in the Constantine Maroulis Handbook. The off-kilter, come-hither stare. The Frodo slo-mo finger point. But Ace’s overly studied charm generally comes off somewhere between blinky vulnerability and indigestion. He makes fourth-season finalist Constantine look like Cary Grant. Also: that thin falsetto? Basta, dude.

Taylor Hicks and his goofy posing
The silver fox was refreshing at first, and we’re still suckers for his gray mop top. We can even abide his singing style, some nights (even if his April 4 massacre of John Denver made our brains burst into flames). But all the Ray Charlesy, Joe Cockery affectations are starting to wear thin. His signature back-dip, and that weird thing he does where he hugs himself like an old bluesman? Enough with aping other artists’ mannerisms, and just sang, man. We want to come back to the Taylor fold.

Paula’s increasing looniness
We admit, Paula’s sporadic weirdness does make the show more entertaining some nights. But we’re beginning to worry. Has Paula been mixing her wine with Dristan, or is she just going ’round the bend?

Those creepy Ford commercials
We usually TiVo right through them, but you know what we’re talking about. Producers take great songs by bands like the Go-Go’s and Toad the Wet Sprocket, and choreograph a super-cheesy Ford promo, where the contestants sing and dance and act a fool. These numbers are surreally awful; they are shame-inducing dada. Next time after one of those things airs, take a close look at rocker Chris Daughtry on the couch. He’s usually the one trying to climb into the seat cushions, or the one with his head in his hands, asking: “What would Scott Stapp do?”

Kellie Pickler’s Jessica Simpson shtick
Ryan Seacrest, we blame you. The American Idol host has, with great relish, exposed Kellie Pickler’s naivete. She thought a minx was a coat; she mispronounced “salmon.” And, if that weren’t enough, Seacrest keeps egging the country singer on, trying to turn her into the next Jessica “Platymapus” Simpson. One’s plenty, thanks.

Simon’s country confusion
Anytime someone sings a country song, judge Simon Cowell throws his hands in the air and acts as if he’s just sat through a Mummenschanz marathon. “I just don’t get it,” he grouses. Hey, Fussybritches: You just hate country music. Next time it’s country night, please take the night off, and spare us your cultural bigotry.

Kenny Rogerzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Now, don’t get us wrong: We love the Gambler. But as guest vocal coach last week, he was a snooze. Producers were right on when they tapped Barry Manilow a few weeks back. He was a fantabulous coach. And tonight’s the start of Queen week, which should be a blast. Want a country artist to come and kick the whippersnappers into shape? Try to land Lyle Lovett or Dolly Parton. Now that’s a show we can get behind.

Source:www.mercurynews.com
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