Idolin' away

I have never been a fan of American Idol. The only time I watched the show before this year was accidentally at the end of Season 2. I wanted Ruben Studdard to win, and later I found out that he did.

If only I could do that with my lottery tickets.

I just wonder if the classic musicians, the ones the “Idols” cover, which are some of the musicians with the longest careers, would have made it on American Idol. The Rolling Stones or Elton John, for instance. The show is really only looking for marketability, not necessarily overall musicianship. Would David Bowie have made it to Hollywood week? Henry Rollins? Iggy Pop? All talented (in my opinion), original musicians.

This year, I was suckered into the maelstrom. At least it took nine years to pull me in. I kept watching this year because of Crystal Bowersox, Siobhan Magnus, and a woman named Lilly who amazingly did not make it to the top 12. They are all original and non cookie cutter contestants. Okay, and maybe Casey James’ hair. Or for that matter, the rest of him.

But after this week’s episode, my short lived hallucinatory episode of Idol fandom has ended. The reason? The cold sore that is Tim Urban will not go away.

For his song for Rolling Stones week, out of a song list spanning decades, he chose a song about a girl who is under his thumb and does whatever he wants. AND he made it into a bad reggae song. Jane Austen would not approve. And neither do I. I probably had more flames erupting out of my head than all of the 3D dragons in the world.

During his performance of an Anita Baker song, he seemed to forget to blink. A coworker of mine thought he looked like a monkey. Yet he stays, week after week. He wasn’t even chosen for the top 24, yet came back cuz another contestant dropped out. Didi Benami, who has at least a modicum of talent and a cool first name, went home. Michael Lynche, who has more talent, persona, and personality in his little finger, almost did. America (at least the part that votes for these contestants) keeps letting Tim Urban stay. America, the beautiful. Somewhere between one shining sea and the other shining sea lie Tim Urban’s dimples.

So my Idol time is over. I'm done. Good luck, Mama Sox. May the Austen force be with you.

And maybe next time, I’ll actually say what I really think.