Tonight’s performance show was not one with which you should trifle. But, I should. So I shall trifle away as I please. Let the trifling begin. Let he among you who has not trifled cast the first trifle. We have nothing to trifle but trifle itself. How much wood would a woodtrifle trifle, if a woodtrifle could trifle wood? O! She doth trifle the torches to burn bright. It seems she trifles upon the trifle of night Like a rich trifle in an Ethiop's ear; Trifle too rich for use, for trifle too dear. All right, shut the hell up.
Before I get into it, I would like to say a few words about Dave and the Suave Porn. Tattooey. Long-Hairs. Rich. And heteroclite. They are doing a much better job coaching these Rockers than the INXS did last year, and it’s only their third day (except for Dave). INXS must have checked their personalities at the door. Dave seems more relaxed around this new fake band. Bravo to you muchachos, dudes. Where was Butch Patrick, the amazing producer guy? Was there a Munsters reunion tonight? Not that I would know he wasn’t there because I’m ignoring him.
Brooke stole that dress from my closet. I was going to give it to her anyway – it was too loose on my ass.
To the rock.
Magni – My Generation by The Who. He chose to wear sunglasses to add some dimension to his bland head. He was tired of being confused as a member of Blue Man Group without the make up. Although, he should keep Blue Man Group in his rolodex for a possible gig after he gets ousted from this show in a couple of weeks. Hope he can play drums. Having said that, he did pretty well tonight. There must have been some magic in those old sunglasses he found. For when he put them on his head, he began to dance around. Well, he didn’t dance as much as he had some needed attitude in his performance tonight. The song helped him along by not giving him a hard time – pretty straightforward, that Who song is. Tommy felt Magni delivered ho humly. Yet, he said Magni had the “ho” going on, but needed more “hum”. I’m not sure but I think Tommy was trying to ask him for a blow job.
Jenny – Tainted Love by Soft Cell. I used to have that album on tape. Best song on the album – Sex Dwarf. Run little doggy - Lure a disco dolly - Run my little sex dwarf. She fooled me with the beginning of the song by singing it like a Romanian mining song. Dave fell for it, too. Right before I was about to ram a bowling pin into the tv set, she kicked it up and got me dancing with the bowling pin. I didn’t want it to end. Me and my bowling pin fell in love all over again. If you think about it, our love has been a little tainted in the past. I’ll tell you about that later. Jenny has a distinctive voice, but I’m not sure she can be fricken huge for Suave Porn. She may have to be fricken huge on her own.
Jill – Violet by Hole. I blame Madonna. It’s her fault that has women like Jill thinking rock and roll is a multiple act play and you must change costumes for each act/song. Did Jill even consider how Suave Porn would feel having to back up a crazy person in a wedding dress? And, that’s what they would be if she was to pull something like this with them - a back up band. Wedding dresses are made to attract attention because the bride wants to be the focus. The groom just wants to hide in the shadows at the wedding, which is why he wears black, unless his deranged wife forces him to dress up like the Good Humor Man. Suave Porn does not want to hide in the shadows while the audience tells the bride lead singer how beautiful her dress is (and then lambastes her fashion choice behind her back). Think, Jill, think! Dave was correct when he made reference to her Courtney Love impersonation. She didn’t like that very much and let him know it. I thought she was going to bite his triangular eyebrows off. That’s not band facilitating behavior, Jill. Gibly added that she screamed the song, another fine observation. By the time Tommy asked about her panties, she was fuming and lasering a hole in the camera with her eyes while Brooke remedially read the cue cards on way to commercial. Jill, do you really want to be in a band with these kinds of people? I’m pretty sure they don’t want to be in a band with your kind of dynamite. If they did, they would have invited Courtney Love to the show.
Zayra – You Really Got Me by The Kinks. Or Van Halen. Zayra (pronounced zae-rah – say it with me, zae-rah), tried to distract the audience from her feeble singing voice by karate chopping at them and infusing “When Harry Met Sally” fake orgasm yelps into her act. Add to that some rabid, yet constrained stage dancing, and she had me. Gibly condemned her for not understanding what Suave Porn was all about. She barked at him. I don’t think her strategy of arguing with the band and calling them geezers is going to help (see Storm later). But, I have to take her side on this one, and it’s not just because Sid is in love with her. She stayed within herself, and whether I liked the performance or not (I did – I dug what she did with the song), that is what she needs to do. Gibly can say that her style is not fricken huge for Suave Porn, but don’t scratch her eyes out because it doesn’t match what they know how to do. Gibly is a rude boy.
Chris – Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand. He is no Marty. I’ve been on Chris’s side up until now. He doesn’t have it, and he’s gonna need some Marty growth to get there. I don’t know what he was doing with his voice and I can’t even spell it but it was something like wwahwwawawawaahhilgh. This was his attempt to find the right note at certain points in the song. It’s in there somewhere, please ignore the rest. Dave suggested that Chris seemed like a winner of a contest at a charity event and that he needs some authenticity. Right on, Dave. He’s a seasoned veteran at this perch preaching. Chris kowtowed pathetically at him. It’s ok to want to learn to be a real rocker, but try to do it by keeping your tongue off your heroes asses. Jason coached Chris to get down to who he is. This contradicts what Gibly told Zayra. Inklings of some future strife within the band, I sense, Yoda. Suave Porn is breaking up before they ever got started. Jason can take Gibly in a fight.
Dilana – Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash. Dilana either smokes too much, screams too much, or has testacles, or some combination of the three. She makes me sound like Stacy Fenderson (she was a girl in my grade school with a really high pitched voice – sorry for the obscure reference. But, now you know. Feel free to use this reference for yourself at a cocktail party if you’re looking to feign sophistication). Decked out in Elvira-wear, Dilana delivered a mystical raga version of the Cash classic. She sounds like Marianne Faithfull. Not the young Mick Jagger loving Marianne. The older, Metallica back up singer Marianne. That is neither good nor bad, it just is. I couldn’t remember Marianne Faithfull’s name until the end of the show. My brain don’t work so good sometimes. I was proud of myself that I didn’t have to Google her (she hates that – it makes her sneeze), like I had to with all the other facts in this literary masterpiece. Dave tricked Dilana into thinking she sucked. He got her and he cracked me up. Diggin’ Dave, dudes. Gibly gave her the non-compliment of uniqeness. Tiny Tim was unique, doesn’t mean he was good. I’ve always considered this song to be boring. She didn’t change my mind, but that’s not her fault. It’s Madonna’s.
Josh – With Arms Wide Open by Creed. He’s no Marty. Marty made me like this song. I don’t like it anymore. I should thank Josh for that. His psuedo-arrogance made him say some crap when he should have been gearing up for the first lyric. That threw him off, which brings up the old adage with which I scolded Brandon last year – shut up and sing. He couldn’t hit all the notes, his performance was disconnected, he was smiling like an idiot, he had no power, he misdirected his “soul”, he doesn’t know how to rock, his hair is too short and he can’t move effectively on stage. Besides that, I think he’s got a great shot at winning this thing. What does Suave Porn think? They think he’s an ad-libbing Stevie Wonder with frogs in his socks.
Phil – If You Can Only See by Tonic. They shouldn’t have Phil and Josh sing right after each other. I get confused as to who is whom. Or whom is who. One smiles too much, the other pouts incessantly. Some people have puppy dog eyes. Phil has a puppy dog mouth. Like other divergent metaphors, it’s annoying. You have to have a different look than the dejected, over-sensitive, absorbed croon-rocker. Dave likes his voice. Tommy loves the way he sings and might be gay for him. Jason doesn’t like his spineless posture on stage and told Phil to plant his feet and crush it. Finally, some sense from the perch. Phil doesn’t know what to crush, but claims he will. Next week, he’ll be wearing a Gallagher rubber bald head and smashing watermelons on stage to the tune of Copacabana (a song suggest to him by Matt before he was left).
Storm – Surrender by Cheap Trick. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this song at the beginning. Her hair told me Cyndi Lauper, her voice told me Blondie and her eye make up told me Barbara Streisand. Eventually, she punk-popped it up and rolled with it. She had me at “doin’ it on the cooooouuuuuuchh”. She’s selling me sexuality, but I don’t have any money. Not everybody wants to have sex with you, Storm. Why, did she say something about me? I like her anyway. She needs to work on her robotics on stage, as in, get rid of them. Jason likes her energy. Dave said she has a huge voice, but he may have been talking about her ass. He also mentioned she had some Ty Taylor in her as if she were performing in Cats, to which Storm answered with a hardy guffaw. That’s how you take criticism, Jill and Zayra. Make the best out of the bad just laugh it off - You didn’t have to come here anyway, right Rod? Dave also philosophized “have character, don’t be a character”, like Tommy. Dave is wise. As I said, I like her, but she’ll need to grizzle herself to fit in with Suave Porn.
Patrice – Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana. She’s no Jordis. But, she may be a small version of Sweet Suzie McNeil. She’s got similar hair and similar vocal tonality and similar small breasts. Would you quit bringing up her small breasts? I didn’t, he did. Oh, that’s ok then. They are fine small breasts. My man boobs are bigger, that’s all I’m saying. We don’t want to hear about your man boobs, either. Sorry. Patrice had a rough start with this song, but came around the mountain when she came. A valid effort, but nothing special. It’ll keep her safe for now. She’s got a thing, but it might not be a Suave Porn thing. Gibly, the hypocrite, commended her on doing it her way. Did you hear that Zayra? Are you going to take that? Tommy asked that she swing the guitar down way down low so he can see her crotch. I don’t think he’s actually listening to the songs.
Lukas – Don’t Panic by Coldplay. If I ever heard this song before, it didn’t leave much of an impression on me. But, Lukas did. He’s versatile. He began the song with a Liam Gallagher pose at the mic, but relinquished that for a stage commanding stroll while he sang. His voice was strong and confident with good emotion. He is the front-runner. I guess you have to be a dick to win these kinds of shows. Dave professed some wisdom, which I am too dense to understand, about Lukas’s foot being up the asses of the other contestants in the future. Jason asked Lukas to stand up. I am standing, he said. He told Lukas to take care of his instrument. The phallic references on this show are abundant.
Ryan – Jumpin’ Jack Flash by The Rolling Stones. Ryan, like Josh, and Toby for that matter, needs longer hair if he wants to front this band. He chose the typical hold the mic stand first then navigate the stage afterwards technique, adding the crowd crawl to shake things up. He’s quite an entertainer and he’s just filler on this show. Not bad, but he doesn’t have “the boys” for this band. Dave thought he had some energy and attitude and then lost it and then got it again at the end, like a born again Christian or a romantic comedy. I thought his energy and attitude was forced and that he was running out of breath at the end because he was scream-rocking, which is a method used by those who cannot rock. Tommy wanted Ryan to show him a boat, which, again, I assume has something to do with Tommy wanting to see Ryan’s crotch. I see a trend developing here.
Dana – Born To Be Wild by Steppenwolf. I read Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. I also read some other books by Herman Hesse, one of which was Narcissus and Goldmund, but I don’t remember anything about them. I do remember them being meaningful to me at the time I read them. Like those books, Dana’s performance means something to me right now, but I will soon forget about her. That meaning is bitchy rural prom queen who whined her way into the starring roles in the school plays. There is more to rock and roll than walking like a stripper and dressing like a catalog biker chick. She’s pretending out there on stage. She’s got a nice voice, I’ll give her that. But that’s about it. Have fun posing for the beautiful people. Gibly wants her to expose the dirty rock. She can’t. Jason thinks she’s made out of clay and would like to mold her. He might. Tommy said she was “born to be mild”. He’s right.
Toby – Somebody Told Me by The Killers. Toby can rock. He’s a little nasally, probably too much dirt from the Outback jammed up his nose. The scream he bellowed at the end of the song sounded like Howard Dean as he inadvertently declined the Democratic presidential nomination a few years ago. If he keeps that up, he may eventually inadvertently decline the Suave Porn nomination. But, he’s got a shot (so far). I can't take anybody named Toby seriously. He'll have to change his name to Merv if he wants my respect. Tommy wants him in the band so to attract more chicks. He’s got his priorities.
The early bottom three were Jill, Chris and Zayra. I can’t argue with them, but I think it’s going to be Jill, Chris and Phil/Josh. The far east will keep Zayra around. They get it. If I'm one of the thirteen other rockers, I'm hoping Lukas feels I should be in the bottom three. He sucks at picking them.