Brooke began this week’s rockercide show by tormenting the rockers with the envelope they fear most. There must have been an anthrax scare in the mansion this week. Maybe Scott Ian stopped by. After telling us about the ten amazing performances last night, she quickly escorted us back to the mansion. Nothing new to report here except for Jill whining about the other rockers not stepping up to take on Gibly for a song. What difference does it make to you, Jill? Just because you grinded your way to diseased repute doesn’t mean everybody has to be that dumb. Storm and Zayra tried to slap some sense into her with words of empathetic you’re-full-of-shitisms, but it only lead to bickering, which Toby seemed to enjoy as visions of catfights danced in his pants. Zayra, in the confessional, paralleled the act of prematurely performing with Suave Porn on a song that’s not optimal to placing the noose around your own neck, which is something she plans to emulate with the mic chord on stage in a few weeks while wearing a Shirley Temple outfit. What? They don’t have a mic chords anymore? Damn radio technology. Explains why Roger Daltrey loses so many microphones lately. Storm boasted that Gibly already knows she can rock with him.
Oh, yeah, Storm? How’s that, confronts Dave. She stammered a little until she brought it down to a language they could understand. No humping, just back breaking pile drivers. They all smiled and nodded like what she said had any relevance or made any sense. Gibly cleared things up by explaining it’s all about chemistry. Then why did you get rid of Phil? Wasn’t he a chem guy? I bet he even knew the chemical formula for a lion. Tlee heard the word “chemistry” and immediately grew bored with that scholarly conversation, so he attacked Ryan for his freak show last night. Ryan defended himself by describing his complexities and nuances as a performer and that they will be slowly revealed in intervallic doses so as to not blow away Suave Porn too much all at once. Gibly smile and nodded and said, “Yeah, well you looked uncomfortable doing it, so knock it off.”
Gibly commended everybody for showing them something new last night. By a rash decision not discussed with the rest of the band or the producers of the show, Gibly awarded all surviving rockers a trip to Vegas. Tlee, not realizing they hadn’t discussed this course of action because he’s always day-wet-dreaming during the production meetings, tried to act like he knew what was going on and gave the stereotypical game show enticement, “But, wait, there’s more…” Since he was working without a net and didn’t really have anything “more” to give, he blurted the first thing that came to his mind, “HOOTERS!” Jason, the record clerk extraordinaire, updated the Rock Star Best Show Ever log with last night’s show and bequeathed two encores.
The first encore, won by a nose, was granted to Lukas. Sid disapproved of Lukas’ lace gloves he wore last night. He wore them again tonight, but I don’t think they’re gloves. What he was wearing was a lace full body sock. I know. I have a few of my own, in different colors so I can dress to my ever-changing moods. Magni received the second encore, which Tlee requested he Magni-fy electric. Magni lost some emotional edge as he tried to overpower the electrical amplification with his voice. It didn’t matter, since it was only an encore. Just a simple, time filling, encore. All of these Magni-isms are going to drive me to drink – drink Milk of Magni-sia.
We need a word for the rockers that spend some time wallowing in the voting bottom three. It takes too long for me to type “the rockers that spent some time wallowing in the voting bottom three”. If I have to type “the rockers that spent some time wallowing in the voting bottom three” every time I want to refer to the rockers that spent time wallowing in the voting bottom three, we are going to run out of disk space on this blog. So, since these rockers that spend some time wallowing in the voting bottom three can be compared to balancing on a tight rope where any wrong move will ensure certain death, I am going to call them the Flying Wallendas. That is much easier to type than the rockers that spent some time wallowing in the voting bottom three. And I don’t feel like deriving any farther than that.
So this week’s rockers that spent some time wallowing in the voting bottom three, er, I mean, the Flying Wallendas were Jill, Josh, Zayra, Ryan and Patrice. Dave recognized most of the faces that were standing in shame. He mentored that they should try harder next time.
Zayra fell for the joke this week. Good job, Zayra campaigners.
Brooke wasn’t joking when she called Jill’s name. She fake smiled her way to the stage, as usual. Gibly demonstrated his ability to count to three. One more and he can take Tlee’s spot behind the skins. Jill poured herself a cup of Jonestown grape Aretha Franklin kool-aid, with Respect. Why this song, Jill? Since rock and roll is based on the blues and she loves this song and is going to rock it. That’s why. Isn’t it obvious? Jill brought her season long plea for undeserved respect to the stage this night. Would Suave Porn give her that respect for which she has been screaming? Speaking of screaming, I recommend Beth Hart’s cd, Screaming for my Supper. Now that chick can scream like an angel. Whereas Jill screams like a horrible screeching caruncle. Please make it stop, daddy. Jill was not in synch with the band. Paul’s harmonica was aggravating. But it did distract me from Jill trying to be, and failing to be, soulful.
Next up was Josh. Bad news for Josh – I’m starting to like his angle. Josh tempted fate with Shooting Star by Bad Company, one of his favorites. One of my favorite Bad Company’s, too. Josh shocked Tlee by choosing to wield his axe again. Tlee had thought that it confined his complexities (of course it didn’t come out that way from Tlee). Josh had some Paul Rodgers in him tonight, with no sign of that nasty Aaron Neville. If Suave Porn was forthright about taking their groove to a new and uncharted direction, they might consider incorporating Josh’s soul rock sound into their band. The dude can sing, and he can rock a little. With some Suave Porn massaging, they could create the freshest sound since The Go-Go’s. I’m gooing over Josh too much. Maybe it’s because of the Jill frame of reference. Nice hat, Josh. Oh, and nice Stevie Wonder head torque. There, I roasted him.
Brooke was a little irritable from the morning sickness, so she made Patrice and Ryan suffer the commercial break before realizing their destiny. Brooke finished puking just in time to announce the last malarocker. She had a partially digested crouton on her chin. It looked cute.
I would like to thank all of those voters out there that responded to my love plea for Patrice. Ryan, the performance artist from hell, was the final fallen Wallenda. You know what? That metaphor doesn’t really apply. They don’t hang in balance with falling potential until they actually get into the bottom three. We’ll have to work on it next week. It was determined that Ryan freaked out too many people with his vaudeville act. No more dancing bears, they demanded. But keep the spinning plate thing. That was fantastic. Ryan decided to buy Suave Porn’s love with Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode. But, don’t worry, Suave Porn, he changed the arrangement and the words are of the moment, whatever that means. Ryan’s performance was constipated. He pushed too hard to emphasize the rock, and didn’t push hard enough to emphasize the passion. That left us with one giant audience ear hemorrhoid. By the end of the song, it pretty much sucked. I hope I’m not being too vague with my feelings about Ryan’s depechenal moding.
Gibly’s sum up went like this. Jill, three times in the bottom three. The voters hate you. Why shouldn’t we? Josh has a great voice, but can it cut through the loud guitars. Didn’t he just do that with his last two performances, not to mention what he did with the Suave Porn song he wrote for the clinic. Ryan has been building momentum but looks like a gooftard on stage. For that, they gave him a Get Out Of The Bottom Three Free card. That left Josh and Jill. And that Josh and Jill left. Both of them. The double whammy fell from the Tommy Hawk (nee Hatchet Man). Josh and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of Suave Porn. Josh fell down and made him frown, and we finally got rid of Jill, too. Wow! Nobody expected the double whammy. And by “nobody”, I mean everybody. Josh’s fate now lies in adult contemporary radio, unless he dares to tread the hard soul Suave Porn feared to tread. I shudder to think of what lies ahead for Jill. I hope it doesn’t lie in my neighborhood.