LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
PART II
Thankfully, a commercial break offers a welcome respite from Rickiejoleen's theatrics, and then we're back to meet the Nashville Star judges. The first one is Blake Shelton! Yay! Blake rules. This outlaw just may be the man who can fill the gaping, aching void left by the lamentably absent Bret Michaels. "I'm proof that you don't really have to be all that good to make it," Blake jokingly and humbly tells the finalists. (See, Rickiejoleen? There's hope for you yet!)
Next is Nashville Star fixture, music biz veteran, and all-around stone fox Anastasia Brown -- who apparently didn't have time to stop by her local CoinStar machine on her way to the show taping. How else to explain all the metal coinage on that jacket of hers? OK, OK, I kid, I kid. That copiously studded jacket is actually pretty awesome. I'd totally wear it, but only on occasions when it was not necessary for me to lift my arms. It just looks really heavy, that's all I'm sayin'. Anastasia must work out a lot to be able to wear a garment like that. Maybe she and Jewel go horseback riding together or something.
Anyhoo, Anastasia announces that Angela and Zac Hacker are indeed related -- they're brother and sister, a Nashville Star first! Wow, there's some good genes in that Hacker family. But in the end, only one person -- Hacker or not -- can win, so expect some good 'n' juicy sibling rivalry this season. I for one can't wait! I heart feuds; they make for real good TV.
Our final judge is the honorable Randy Owen, of Alabama fame. There's just something very regal about Randy's distinguished, salt-&-pepper presence. The very mention of his name commands respect, with the entire Acuff Theatre audience giving him an on-the-spot standing ovation. Then he uses his moment in the spotlight to give a shout-out (well, he doesn't shout, exactly; he's far too dignified for that) to the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. What a classy man.
All right, now Jewel and Troy deliver the good and bad news for the night. The good news is, all 10 contestants will get the chance to perform in front of a television audience of untold millions. The bad news? Two of them will get the boot, so to speak, before the night is through. Yes, the judges will send home one man and one woman tonight. So let's get this over with, shall we?
It's a battle of the sexes, females versus males, and in true polite Southern tradition, the ladies go first. Eighteen-year-old Kacey Musgraves kicks things off. Dang, she's cute, isn't she? In her pre-taped bio video, she reveals that she's from Golden, Texas, the Sweet Potato Capital Of The World, where as a girl she dreamed of winning the Little Miss Tater Tot beauty pageant. That dream was cruelly crushed; will the same sad fate meet her on Nashville Star? Quite possibly not, judging from her performance tonight.
She performs the Wreckers' "Leave The Pieces," a nice leftfield song choice, and she gets major bonus points for playing the mandolin as well. It's clear the camera loves this lady, as does the audience. But do the judges love her? Let's find out. Anastasia is impressed, saying ,"If Nashville Star is your university, I think you might be our valedictorian!" Blake says he's relieved that he doesn't have to tell her she sucks -- because, happily, she does not suck at all. Basically, he's complimenting her, just awkwardly. Randy, wowed by Kacey's mandolin skillz, advises her not to pull a Bob Dylan and go electric; he digs her acoustic vibe. Listen to Randy, Kacey. The man is wise. He is like the E.F. Hutton of Nashville. When Randy talks, people listen.
Whitney Duncan is next. In her bio video, this beauty gripes about how difficult it is to be taken seriously when you are burdened with such stunning good looks. "It's hard not to be just a sex symbol," she whines. Oh, boo-hoo. Your life must be so hard, Whitney. Sheesh. Wish I had such problems. For the record, if anyone wants to see me as a sex symbol, that's fine by me. Go for it.
Anyway, Whitney continues to convince us that she is really not sexy at all by burping on camera and discussing in-depth her tendency to not wash her hair for days at a time. Sorry, Whitney, but your tactics ain't working. Poor hygiene, acid reflux ... it doesn't matter! YOU'RE STILL GORGEOUS! So just use it to your advantage like any other lucky lady would do if she were in your boots, OK?
Besides, the only thing Whitney needs to do to be taken seriously is, in the words of the Dixie Chicks, shut up and sing. Because when she performs Bonnie Raitt's "Thing Called Love," she rocks the house. The crowd loves her. This girl's a natural. True star quality here. Blake certainly thinks so. "I think you have a real shot at this thing," he tells her. Randy goes next, saying, "I like your stage presence, but watch some of your notes." Now, normally this is the time when the crowd is loudly boos the judge's criticism. But no one boos now. Who's gonna boo Randy Owen? The man speaks with the Zenned-out authority of Gandhi. And are you gonna boo Gandhi? Didn't think so.
Anastasia says something too, but to be honest I can't recall it and I've been typing so long that I'm too lazy to rewind my TiVo. I'm sorry, but I'm simply too distracted by the major cleavage spilling out of Anastasia's top. Whoa, mama! What kind of bra is that? 'Cause I want one. Sorry, I know I'm commenting too much of Anastasia's looks -- her jacket, her bra, her presumably horseback-riding-honed physique -- when this woman is actually a highly regarded industry pro who's worked with practically every A-lister in the business. Anastasia really deserves more respect than this. I suck. But seriously, man -- she's totally popping out of her shirt! I shouldn't notice, but I can't help it. It's distracting. I need to avert my eyes and just watch another contestant...
Angela Hacker is next. In her video, Angela discusses how she put her country-music career on the backest of all back-burners so she could raise her son. Surely many moms in TV Land can relate to Angela's story, and are rooting for her now that she's finally gotten her long-deferred big break. Angela then croons the Patti Loveless ballad "You Don't Even Know Who I Am," a song about a wife/mother running away from her domestic existence. Hmmmm ... could this possibly be a semi-autobiographical song choice? Judging by the conviction with which Angela belts it out, I assume so. She actually looks choked up. I swear I see the glint of a tear in her eye, and I seriously doubt it's because her contact lenses are bothering her. Wow. I have chills. You know, a few paragraphs ago I declared that I like Angela Hacker. Well, I take that back. I friggin' love Angela Hacker!
And so do the judges. Randy says she has "forced every one of the contestants to step up their game." Blake says, "I get the feeling that you've never been handed a damn thing in your life. You've probably had to work hard for it. You're a fighter, and that will help you here." Anastasia says she loves Angela's "grit," but then steps into her Simon Cowell-like curmudgeon role by adding, "Part of this job is to look your best, and in that video clip you were underdressed to go to Wal-Mart."
Ouch. That's harsh. OK, so Angela didn't exactly look glamorous in that interview piece, with her uncombed hair yanked back in a bird's nest of a ponytail and her un-airbrushed face scrubbed completely of all makeup, but c'mon, now -- she was talking about how she's had a rough life, and how convincing was it going to be if she told her sob story while dressed in some fabulous J.Lo diva outfit? She was proving that she's real, man. Plus, it should be noted that Anastasia is doling out this fashion advice while she's exploding out of her bra and wearing what appears to be about 20 rolls of quarters on her back. So she's one to talk!
After Jewel consoles Angela by confessing that she also goes to Wal-Mart looking like crap (um, yeah, right), it's the confusingly named Rickiejoleen's turn at bat. Her video piece depicts her as a real badass chick: She likes to box, she dropped out of school in the 8th grade, she started performing in bars at age 11, and so on. Not sure if this makes her a great role model, but whatever. Let's see if she's a more impressive singer this time around, or if it's time for her to quit her night job and go back to junior high.
RJ struts out singing Little Big Town's "Boondocks," really working that whole cheesy rocker-chick shtick: sooty panda-eye mascara, Christina Aguilera bleach job, skull-&-crossbones necklace, leather pants, lots of hip-shaking and fist-pumping, the whole shebang. She sounds OK, but OK ain't gonna cut it. Anastasia tells her to "move away from the local bar gimmicks," and in this instance I agree with her, 100 percent. Blake says, "I think you're pissed about something!" and compliments her -- heh heh -- "bottom end." (Blake, this chick is like 18, and barely that. Behave yourself!) Randy is the nice one of the bunch, simply telling her she was "born to perform." Clearly Randy is taking on the sweet, Paula Abdul-type role among the judges -- minus Paula's slurred words and that weird seal-clap of hers, of course.
The last of the ladies is Meg Allison, who drums up empathy by revealing in her interview that she cares for her disabled sister, and sees her singing as a means of voicing what her sister cannot express. Aw. I can't make a smarmy joke about that. That's just plain nice. The Chicago girl then belts out a stunning version of the perennial Patsy Cline classic "Walking After Midnight." She's a little stiff and nervous, but man ... that VOICE! Patsy would be proud. Meg just needs to work on her stage presence and she could be a real threat -- that's what the judges tell her, and I wholeheartedly concur.
All right, now it's time for one of the gals to get the ax. I predict it will be Rickiejoleen. Her rock-chick act is just a little too hokey and forced, and the other women seem to have more potential. Cowboy Troy opens the envelope.
And the loser is ... Rickiejoleen. Whaddya know, I was right! Woo hoo! But really, I shouldn't gloat. RJ seems upset. Like, really upset. She's not doing that gracious, "Oh, it was just an honor to be here" thing like good little contestants are supposed to do. She looks positively crushed. Her disappointment is apparent in her rapidly watering eyes. And her raccoon eye makeup is starting to run. When Jewel tries to interview her, she can't even speak.
Shiz, I feel bad now about all that anti-RJ stuff I wrote. I hope she doesn't read this blog; she is just too thin-skinned. Poor RJ. I hope she'll be OK. But she might want to consider going back to school. An experience like this should teach her that while it's great to have a dream and pursue it, it's always good to have a backup plan. And that means getting an education. Consider this paragraph to be a little mid-blog PSA break. Stay in school, kids!
Continue reading Part III of Lyndsey's Blog...