I think it’s safe to say that this final performance episode will go down in history as one of the worst. No standout performances. No “wow” moments. Nevertheless, we still must crown an American Idol from the final two contestants: 21-year-old Phillip Phillips aka hot White dude who sounds like Dave Matthews and is what I call “a starter White” for Black women who want to try something different at liberal arts college and 16-year-old Jessica Sanchez who sounds like a Black soul singer without that whole pesky thing of, you know, being Black. I know I sound a little sassy, but I don’t mean to because I love, love, love American Idol. And not in some irony-filled, isn’t-this-show-ridiculous, winking fashion. No, I legitimately love AI. Ten minutes before the show starts, I’m like
aka I’m walking down an imaginary soul train in my living room while my boyfriend is like
Look, I’ve watched all eleven seasons and I troll the internet to see if other ppl shared my snarky reactions to what happened on the show. So some stank eyes from my boo ain’t gonna phase me. But, just in case you don’t believe that I actually like this cheesy ass show, I offer this as my final piece of evidence: during Season 5, I voted for Taylor Hicks in the finale. Let that sink in. I voted for a dude who is basically what would happen if your weird, goofy chemistry teacher put down his Bunsen burner and picked up a harmonica and thought the opening line from The Jerk (“I was born a poor black child”) was a life motto:
See what I mean about that whole that non-Black person sounding like a Black soul singer? Anyway, not only did I call to vote for him, but when I couldn’t get through, I opted to text my vote to make sure American Idol knew just where the fuck I stood. Keep in mind, I was texting my vote on a Motorola Razr before I discovered what the hell T-9 was and would have made typing the word “VOTE” a much easier task. Instead, I had to press numbers multiple times to get the letter I want. All so I could vote for motherfucking Taylor Hicks. I wish I could say I have grown as a person since then, but I have not. Back to Season 11 and the Phillip v. Jessica showdown.
We start off the show with the typically over the top entrance by the judges. They march down a giant staircase at the Nokia Theatre and I learned the following three things in this order: 1) Randy Jackson has proved the theory in my head that being fat does indeed offset a Black person’s ability to wear any color s/he chooses. Bottom line: fat people shouldn’t wear sherbert blazers, 2) Jennifer Lopez’s butt, despite looking slimmed down in her all-black outfit, is glorious and will cause me to do butt exercises before I go to bed in hopes that I will wake up badonk enhanced, and 3) Steven Tyler is wearing an all-maroon, paisley print suit because of course he is. After all this time, did you honestly think he was going to switch it up with a sensible slack and Docker’s boat shoes? Finally, Ryan Seacrest is introduced, so I take that time to do approximately five reps of booty clinching or Kegels. They kind of feel like the same thing if you do it right. Anyway, let’s tackle the performances singer by singer.
Jessica kicked off the show with Whitney Houston’s I Have Nothing. I mean, yes, she sounds great, but she already sang Whitney Houston this season, so for AI‘s creator Simon Fuller to pick a big diva song for a big diva voice is pretty predictable. So I resume Kegels. And I while I’m doing that, I can’t help but think, “she is only sixteen years old.” It’s weird and, quite frankly, hard to stomach the endless love songs she’s been singing all season. She has minimal life experience in the love department, so the song lacks believability. On the bright side, the ridiculous costume jewelry ring her stylist saddled her with basically says, “Even bitches on TV wear Clarie’s when they’re on a budget:”
Next song is her favorite song that she has sung all season. So she chooses a song called The Prayer, which if you can’t your hands on some Ambien, just blast this song into your Bose headphones and you’ll fall asleep. This song is boring as hell. I mean, Colors of the Wind from Disney’s Pocahontas sounds as exciting as Stairway to Heaven compared to this song. But The Prayer does have God in it, so she’s smart enough to try and get the Jesus vote in hopes of preventing the inevitable, which is Phillip winning this thing. Jessica, if I had a hat, I would tip it towards you in admiration of your savvy, but since I can’t, I have to settle for Kegeling at you. I really hope you felt that one.
Final song of the night for Jess. She chose from a list of songs the one she would release if she won. As expected, Change Nothing is lame as hell because AI is incapable of hiring writers who can actually write a hit song. Next year, just hire Ne-Yo to do the writing and call it a damn day. Overall, this was not a good showing for her at all. She needed a defining moment to win this show and all she did was sound like someone you’d hear on AM radio and change the station. Don’t think she’s going to win.
Phillip gets a better song choice from Mr. Fuller with Stand By Me. And it’s little coffee house sounding. I bet if he was in the music biz the same time as Jewel, they totally would’ve been the Justin Timberlake/Britney Spears of the pop/folk world in the ’90s. And they when they broke up, Jewel’s revenge song would be just like Cry Me a River only with 100% more yodeling and 85% less everything that makes Cry Me a River good.
Phillip’s favorite song that he sung all year was Billy Joel’s Moving Out. Um, yeah, no. It should have been Usher’s U Got It Bad:
This sounded great and was sexy and made me wonder if I could get pregnant through my TV screen. Moving Out made my hyman grow back. Oh, you knew I was going there, so calm down.
His final song was called Home, which considering how generic the lyrics are, it should’ve been called Song. Still, I like it! Phillip plays acoustic guitar and the tune has a wave-your-lighter-in-the-air kind of vibe. Meaning, I’ll probably buy the song and play it in my apartment as part of the soundtrack of my life when I’m packing my bags before I head home to Ohio to visit my parents. Get it? In case you were wondering, the name of the soundtrack of my life is Bitches Be Literal. Other songs include: No More Drama (unlike Mary J. Blige’s song which is chock full of drama, my version is super monotone and devoid of drama or emotion), and You’re a Motherfucking Bakery, So How Are You Out of Croissants at 11am? Nobody Eats Croissants After 11am? Step Your Life Up.
Before I go, let’s not forget there was one other performance. Special guest Jason Derulo sang a song called Undefeated while standing on a folding chair and then later “dancing” with it a little (how very middle school pep rally of you). The song is terrible. But one of the lead dancers is wearing Daisy Dukes and we see a little of the bottom of her booty cheeks. All I’m going to say is she has moisturized well. And that I’m sure her dad is proud.