American Idol Finale-1

Just when I can’t think of a good word to say, after an over plastic-surgeried Smokey Robinson belts out an unknown track he’s futilely working as his new single, the assembled multitude breaks into TEARS OF A CLOWN!

The original, the take by the (English) Beat, the one you sing in your car, ANY version of "Tears Of A Clown" puts joy in my heart, makes me an optimist, makes me feel, like Frank Zappa in that old live Fillmore East record, that it’s FUCKING GREAT TO BE ALIVE!

But so far, it’s just a moment in an  American story.  The land of lowbrow.  Where no medium is beyond shooting for the lowest common denominator.

We all want to belong.  Maybe that’s why I punted my hike to watch this show.  Once it came on in HD, as I was doing my back exercises, I was riveted.  Then again, will I watch ANYTHING in HD?

Once again, tech trumps art, certainly music.  Just imagine if the new music was as good as the iPod you’re playing it on!

And Mr. Dogg himself, Randy Jackson.  If only he could be coached to be either more credible or more street.  He exists in a no-man’s land, in between the ghetto and Beverly Hills.  I feel sorry for him.  Then again, he’s making a FUCK of a lot of money!

Paula Abdul…  I’ll admit it, I wanted to see her broken nose.  Did she really break it?  Doesn’t look like it.  Maybe it was just a story to goose ratings.

And then there’s our Simon.  Blows my mind that this guy is the rock star none of the contestants are.  Slouched in his seat, the bane of teachers everywhere, not even facing forward, giving Ryan Seacrest shit from minute one.  That’s the irreverence we’re attracted to.  You may not love Simon, but you can’t stop paying attention to him!

But you didn’t need to watch Gwen Stefani…

Blake and Jordin were so amateurish, they evidenced none of the soul of the original Beatles "I Saw Her Standing There".  Blake’s voice is thin, and Jordin’s is second-rate.  But I wasn’t prepared for Gwen to be little better.  She proved why TV kills careers.  Oh, it was a great dress, but she looked like Gwen from the block, with a thin voice, out of place on a big stage instead of the living room where she truly belongs.  And the song?  If that’s a hit, and who the fuck knows, who pays attention to the Top Forty shenanigans, then no wonder the business is in the shitter.

But worse was Kelly Clarkson.  Artists, they’re the worst, they’ve got NO IDEA what’s a hit.  It’s like the radio is kryptonite to them or something.  Casual listeners can tell winners and losers instantly, but artists think their latest productions are laden with hooks when for most of us ONCE IS TOO MUCH!

The endless parade of has-beens is hilarious.  Doug E. Fresh?

And the TV stars…  Jerry Springer?  Jeff Foxworthy?  Do they not think we know they’re placed, that this is giant scraping of the bottom of the barrel to try to entertain the theoretically dumb masses?

Hell, the government is no different.  The public is against the war, but the President and Congress are afraid of offending the Christian right and theoretical flag-wavers and can’t admit we’ve lost and bring the boys home.

There’s no truth in America.  Just hucksters wanting to make a buck.

In a week with the most poignant visual depiction of a suicide attempt ever on "The Sopranos", we’re confronted with a show so two-dimensional, so absent protein, that the French are laughing.

I gotta tell  you, this country is ripe for quality, ripe for truth.  A credible act beholden to no one, that wouldn’t tie in with a corporation, that wouldn’t do ANYTHING for the money, would become an institution.  It wouldn’t happen instantly, but their career would last for YEARS!  Unlike the beat-driven songs dominating the airwaves that you won’t hear on this show, because no one can SING THEM!

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