I know we are all worried about Ryan since he was so rudely catapulted from the show last week. We all fear that he will not have an appropriate outlet for his angst and will end up brooding at librarians in the street. Do not fret, as he has found an activity that will help him channel his angst in socially acceptable ways. He has been busy, very busy, downloading his own performances from MSN. He has been so prolific at this task that he now holds the top three spots for the most downloaded artist, including his original song of throes. He has had to replace his keyboard and mouse thirty-seven times, however.
We endured the recap of the mansion show. The only noteworthy segment, other than the mischief merriment described by Sid, yesterday, was Paul’s comment about Dilana’s attempt to transmogrify Behind Blue Eyes having never heard the entire song. He declared it her changing from a position of ignorance. From his cagey tone and the way he kept hand grooming his hair away from his face (ever heard of a bobby pin, mister?), I got the feeling that he thought this was the wrong thing to do. Speaking as a man who has changed from a position of ignorance when my son was born, and eventually I got pretty good at swapping out those dirty diapers even though I had never done it before, I beg to claim bull poppy. Sometimes a position of ignorance breeds novel and exciting directions, like the time I thought it would be a good idea to place a week’s worth of diapers on the boy each Monday, and merely peel the outer one away each time he soiled. I still can’t figure out why that didn’t seem to work. It looked good on paper.
Poor Dilana. She ripped a calf muscle trying to tap dance her way out the derisive comments she made about her fellow rockers. This should be a lesson to you young rockers out there – Tap dancing and rockin’ don’t mix. Always go with the Farandole, unless the beat demands the Lindy Hop. Luckily for Dilana, Michael Clarke Duncan was hanging out back stage and was able to carry her to a stool on the stage for her performance. Then he said, “Just took it back, is all. Awful tired now, boss. Dog tired.”
Dilana began her set with the aforementioned Behind Blue Eyes by The Who. She began in tender fashion, reminiscent of Shirley Temple’s Polly Wolly Doodle. Eventually, she tore down the temple and launched the new rad fad of Stool Jammin’, not to be confused with Michelle Pfieffer’s A-frame ladder jammin’ in Grease 2. Being cripple, she resorted to pointing around the stage so the audience would know where she wanted to romp. She also made the House Band come to her to rock and to bring her soup and hot oil gauze pads. The camera zoomed in on her own blues at the end of the song so we could see what was behind them. No surprise here, it was only a couple of optic nerves, just like most other people. To keep the set hot, Dilana described her life as the house amoeba and denounced the importance of her becoming the singer of Suave Porn because she is a Super Soul and that is all she needs. Or maybe she meant Super Sole, and she plans to open a chain of footwear stores if she doesn’t win. Like the other glimpses we’ve had at her lyric writing, this song is all about her in the here and now, as if she has no past experiences, no forethought on the conditions of others, no dreams or no overtures of getting in a girl’s pants. Her lyrics describe her current situation at all times, “Ohhhhhhh, I’m at the butcher shop, and I like the ribeye, but ooooooooo, that hot pork chop, is making me cry. Ohhhhhhhhh, I’ll need some peas, to serve on the side, but oooooooooooo, help me please, it’s a crazy ride!” Gibly called her out on the literalness of her songs. Dave didn’t like her original. Nor did I. Tlee threatened to put Dave in a box, because he enjoyed Dilana’s Super Sole and asked what she had available in size twelve. Jason commended her on her strong will and effort, which, of course, is what we say to all the crappy players on the little league team.
We were all delighted to hear that Suave Porn would be playing an additional show at The Joint on New Year’s Day, since the original gig is sold out. What a relief! Now I won’t have to kill my neighbor to get his tickets to the New Year’s Eve show. Also, we learned that the House Band will be opening with the ghosts of Rock Star past. Darn tootin’, I’d be willing to pay double for that kind of show, which is good because they’re already charging double, from what I’ve seen.
Magni took the stage next. He began his set with Back In The USSR by The Beatles. Do not fear, dear audience, there is no danger of Magni falling off the stage, as Suave Porn would like him to do. He follows the same path, up and down the runway (I think he’s on a trolley track), subtly eliciting emotion only by his careful man handling of the mic stand and performing his signature two-handed mic grab. Magni strolled over to Rafael to watch his guitar solo. He looked like a politician being forced to watch the Ladies Auxiliary Kazoo Jamboree as part as his campaigning, especially when he peeked to the audience with his, “would ya get a load of this” facial expression. Magni transitioned to his original with the clichéd “Are We Having Fun?” to the crowd. He explained that he had freshly translated the lyrics from Icelandic into English, and we should ignore the references to fish spleen ascensions, because there is no English word that translates literally to it. Magni’s original song is called When the Time Comes, and it rocks, especially after hearing Dilana’s bio-song about pushing back her cuticles. Magni has the voice to support Suave Porn, but he does not have the attitude and stage presence. That will be his bane, unless Suave Porn thinks they can keep him permanently drunk. Dave dug the riff and Magni’s aggressive vocals. Tlee questioned Magni’s duplicated approach to both songs. Magni claimed that the he performed both the songs, and all songs sound the same in Iceland. Gibly wanted him to bring it a little more and fall off the stage.
As Brooke announced Storm to the stage, Dave, surprised to hear that Storm would be singing Suffragette City by David Bowie, interrupted Brooke to ask Storm if he could rock with her. She said, “Sure Dave, sit your ass down behind the glockenspiel and rock your heart out.” Storm was dressed in a black French spy outfit which was in stark contrast to Dave’s white guitar and glowing aura, coupled with the blatant difference in the height of Storm compared to Dave, and confounded by the traditional leadership roles between men and women being recalibrated by their interaction, created a dichotomic dynamic which was not actually reflected in their performance, so I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Storm used this song as a helicopter launching pad to eventually reveal a truer version of the real Storm in her original. Although, her plan was almost foiled because Dave was playing in the wrong key. It wasn’t his fault. This was his first time manning the glockenspiel. To keep things rolling between songs, Storm chose to pray to the good lord almighty (Mark Burnett) and strip down to her under shirt. Her song was called, Ladylike, but it was actually called What the F*ck is Ladylike, but actually sung as What the What is Ladylike. So, if you were confused about what exactly is ladylike before hearing this song, there is no way in hell you know what it is now. I know I don’t. This was as close to seeing the real Storm Large as I’ve seen on this show, based on the videos of what I’ve seen of her solo work. Storm gave Suave Porn a good dose of what they’d be getting if they hired her. I don’t think Suave Porn could handle it. She would take over, relegating them to and the Heartbreakers status. Dave gave Storm the utmost compliment of being on the same level as Perry Ferrell. He also claimed it was his favorite original ever performed in the decade spanning history of Rock Star. Tlee boasted that her track was vvvvvvvhhhhhvhvhhvhvh. Gibly busted his balls and said the same gibberish. Nice one, Gibly. They cut whatever philosophical blather Jason offered. On the way to commercial, Storm kissed Brooke full on the lips and said, “See, if you stuck to this kind of stuff, you wouldn’t have to be wearing that horrible vertically striped top to disguise your growing motherly paunch.”
Lukas, wearing an outfit from the Beetlejuice collection from Sears, revised the crap out of Livin’ On a Prayer by Bon Jovi. I mean that literally. He took the crap right out of that song, turning it into something audibly bearable. However, I was not sure what song he was singing until he got to the chorus, because of his garbled groaning in the first verse. He instilled a mood diametrically opposed to the cheerful optimism Jon Bon Jovi used to try to trick girls into sleeping with him. Like his cherubic good looks and fantastically teased hair was not enough. As for Lukas, he is trying to trick girls into thinking he’s got a giant bag of heroin in the back seat of his car. Maybe he does. Whatever it takes, right ladies? No matter, he improved a hackneyed song. Speaking of hackneyed, Lukas asked the audience how everybody was doing out there as part of his transition to his original song. I heard one guy yell, “pretty good, how about you.” Lukas created the best flow of the night from his cover song to his original. Headspin, Lukas’s original, which is a song of hate about his mother, began in a similar tempo as his harnessed Livin’ On a Prayer, and built slowly from there until he was writhing on a couch in the fetal position sucking on his thumb while Jason took notes asking him how does that make you feel. Lukas must have found the bag of angst Ryan forgot to pack before he left the mansion. I can’t say that I liked this song. Well, I could say it, but I would be lying, and the last thing I want to do is make stuff up. I did enjoy the dainty background singing by the House Band. Also, it was fun watching Sasha spit hot soup all over Nate. Dave dug the emotion. Tlee wasn’t sure how he felt so he asked the audience if they liked it. The applause sign eventually went on, so the audience liked it accordingly. Gibly finds inspiration in Lukas’ hate for his mother. Jason must have bombasticated some more philosophical hoo-hah, since his thoughts were stricken from the record.
Toby closed out the show with his set that began with Mr. Brightside by The Killers. Short glimpse: better than The Killers, not as good as Marty’s from last year. Magni should pay attention to Toby on the stage. He is chock full of energy and emits it all over the place, without sacrificing his vocal strength. I could do without the pseudo-rap romping, but I guess that is what’s in now, and I’m a fogey. At one point, Toby flashed my old gang’s symbol, so I went out to the corner and shot an old guy that would not admit being in a rival gang. Toby prefaced his original by asking if anyone ever feels like they’re not in their own skin, especially after a weekend of heavy drinking. The bad guy from Silence of the Lambs raised his hand. Toby looked at him and said, “Well, this one’s for you and for your pit in the basement, weirdo V-boy.” Toby performed Throw It Away as a message to all young people that you will not be held responsible for all the stupid things you do when you’re drunk as long as you throw it away, where “it” is any dead bodies, used prophylactics, evidence of any wrong-doing or general memories of acting like a dope that were the result of your intoxication. I will use this song to train my children as then enter pre-adulthood. As usual, Toby was all over the room during his performance. He works the crowd well and demands the folks have a good time. I could even see Brooke’s fetus tapping its yolk sac though her tummy. On his jaunt, Toby spent much time on the Suave Porn perch. Tlee couldn’t handle seeing Toby’s tight little Australian ass wiggling in front of him for too long. Eventually, Tlee tried to grab Toby’s tush. Toby directed Nigel to perform a drum solo while he went to Human Resources to file a sexual harassment complaint. He soon returned and finished the song by molesting all of the rockers in the Al Roker den. Toby rendered his song an anthem with his repeated rhythmic “Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh’s”. The crowd loved to sing along at home, and Suave Porn took notice. Dave declared it instantaneously memorable. What is? The song. What song? I don’t remember. Tlee thought it was bad bleepin’ “S”. You thought it was bad. No, good. But you said bad. I meant bad meaning good. Oh, good. No, bad. What? Gibly likes the way he puts the fun in rock and roll. Until now, rock and roll has been all about doldrums. Jason enjoyed the way Toby embraces people, but stay away from his daughter. Toby is the love child of the recently departed Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin and Billy Idol, in case you were wondering.
In and effort to squash my marketing of the Bird Ass Beans term to represent the early bottom three in the voting, the producers decided to give a full rundown of the early voting ranks of all rockers. Those bastards! The prompt voters put the rockers in the following order: Toby, Lukas, Magni, Storm and Dilana. This would indicate that the Bird Ass Beans (so there!), derived from this list, are Magni, Storm and Dilana. Personally, I would take Storm out (to a local dive bar and then maybe hit Wendy’s on the way home because they’re open late, but if it’s too late, we’d go to either White Castles or Burritoland), and put in Magni. Storm is my new favorite. I think Dilana’s reign of terror will soon be over.