ELEVEN SENTENCES ON ELEVEN SINGERS, A/K/A YES, YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER: Two weeks of the Beatles (who now are back to being the Beatles instead of that band that sang the songs from the Lennon/McCartney songbook, the George Harrison estate apparently having realized that resistance is futile) and no one sang Sgt. Pepper? Michael Johns could have avoided the whole pastiche ridiculousness of A Day in the Life, for one thing, or else Amanda Overmyer might have picked it instead of Back in the USSR and maybe located a melody sometime before the last verse; and maybe if Johns or Overmyer had switched songs, then something in the harmonic divergence of the planets might have shifted ever so slightly and some cherubic vector from somewhere around Neptune might have made it to Earth just in time to whisper in Brooke White's ear, don't do it, Brookie, for the love of God don't do it!
Jason Castro is, I think, lucky that he's got that dorky earnestness working in his favor, because there is just no way to make Michelle cool. David Archuleta went wee-wee-wee-wee all the way back to his wheelhouse and wisely chose a nice big long and winding floopy ballad to try to make us all forget the pain of the prior week. Carly Smithson actually kind of won me over for the first time with her Blackbird. (I have decided that what she needs to bring America to its knees is Desperado or similar -- one of those emotionally craggy songs that people like to sing in bars while making best friends with everyone around them.) I have no idea what that weird gizmo was that David Cook was squealing into, but Mr. Cosmo seemed very excited that Peter Frampton had made a guest appearance on AI. It is passing strange to me that the one effective country singer on the show is not Kristy Lee Cook, but rather the Nigerian guy. I liked Syesha's emotional resonance, which she desperately needed after the cheesy Chicago 16 rendition of whatever-it-was last week. Ramiele Malubay cannot pick a song to save her life -- I can almost guarantee that the song that David Cook was making her listen to on the headset in her clip was not, in fact, Should Have Known Better. (Does anyone other than me hear these Beatles titles and go what the hell song is that? only to realize that you in fact know all the words to the song and just never knew the title?)
The tier system dictates that we don't actually care who goes home at any given moment, but really, isn't it time to free KLC from the shackles of her perpetual bottom threeness and let her saddle up and ride home?
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