Hmmm.

I am forced to agree with my colleague: This is a trickier assignment than I thought when I took it on.

First of all, I lurve me some Gordon Lightfoot. Seriously. Watching callow Idol contestants mangle his songs - that for years I sincerely believed I couldn't get the cookies to turn out just right without dancing around the kitchen hollering them at the top of my lungs - inspires, as it turns out, not so much affectionate bemusement as a desire to slap the offenders upside the head and yell "Show some RESPECT, boy!" (Yes, there's a reason I'm gender-specific. We'll get to that later.)

Then of course there's the CanCon: that endearing mixture of good intentions and truly clunky execution that is Canadian television - that is, of course, Canadian Idol, only with better production values. Mostly. If you cock your head and squint to reduce the glare off the Random Shiny Things, the stage starts looking sort of like Tommy Hunter's. All we need now are the Hinterland Who's Who commercials, and it'd be Sunday nights when I was twelve.

So I'm sitting here feeling all 'awwwwww...' and stuff, which in terms of bringing the snark is a bit like Carl Lewis deciding a few Twinkies before the big race wouldn't hurt, and all I can think of to say is...

Thank god for Benedict!

Who hops out on stage in...the same clothes as he had on last week. Yeah, I'm pretty sure those are the same clothes. Which would be fine by me - I'm all for ending pain and suffering, especially where my eyeballs are involved - if I didn't suspect that he chose these particular clothes because they set off his orangeness just so.

"Who here thinks we've got a real competition on our hands?!" Well, golly, Mr. Idol Host, I sure do! I needed a good reason to keep sitting here watching your plastic self run through the preprogrammed motions, after all, and glue on the chair seat was just too derned messy!

Yada yada if you don't vote just ask the Kaleb fans yada yada yada. This speech drove me nuts when he applied it to Toya last year, too. Benedict, you're assuming the vast majority of Canadians are truly upset Kaleb's gone, which they clearly aren't, because they didn't vote for him last week, so nobody wants to be made to feel guilty about this, OK? Thank god that at least this year he doesn't poll the judges to find out how long before the suicides.

So eventually it's time to meet the 'people who can sing in any time zone' (I can't decide what's scarier, that somebody got paid for writing that or Benedict for ad-libbing it).

...Looks like the price of hyperbole shot through the roof last week - anybody notice if Hollywood was holding an awards show? - therefore one adjective per customer, please. Obviously ground out by the same PR machine that came up with the blandly chintzy official merchandise that showed up here at the buying offices the other day hoping to make it in-store for September. That we had to reject, mostly, because the samples were so crumby-looking. Although I hear some of it eventually made it through anyway. Don't expect Roots-does-the-Olympics or anything, kiddies, is all I'm sayin'.

...Where was I? Oh, yeah, bland chintziness:

Elena is the 'bombshell', which is even siller than it sounds, because the Makeup That Ate Cleveland is mostly in abeyance this night. If not the crazed fanbase carrying 'Queen Elena' signs. Gee, I have no idea where people get the idea that Elena's an elitist hotshot, do you? "They're college students," I explain to a flinching Shoemom, at which she dials up the Scowl Of Kids Today Need to Spend a Summer Scrubbing Floors With Me, It'd Be Good For 'Em to maximum setting.

Jason is the [mmmph-snicker!] 'rock star' [snort!] , and trots out wearing the standard jeans and orange shirt...also the standard 'yeah, that's me, pretty much' expression. But not a do'rag, so I can't kill him. Yet.

Jacob is the 'live wire', who actually appears to be at about half-wattage just now. Only he could look underdressed in a scarlet Roy Rogers cowboy shirt, and only he could possibly have that much to be nervous about re: tonight's theme. He doesn't have Trigger ready to go backstage or something, does he? Shane is the 'daredevil'...uh, why? Seriously, could somebody please explain that to me? Suddenly I must know. Did he burn the pre-show perogies? Is denim against his religion so a jean jacket is a huge deal? Did his programming break down backstage and he ran around doing a tapdance while screaming 'Orchichornya! '? What?

Theresa is the 'sweetheart', and I note that that term these days involves wearing a lot of seafoam green drapery and patiently submitting to having your hair straightened to within an inch or two of glamour, and decide it's not worth it. Plus of course she's smiling. Kiddo, you've made it to the top seven, they like you, you can drop the tremulous Sally Field thing now.

( People in the audience are carrying those odd paddles with her face on them; I muse afresh over how this is supposed to be an even remotely flattering concept. What, they want to hide behind her reflected glory? She's a closet ping-pong fanatic, and this is the tribute? They really, really want to bounce things off her face, and this is a harmless way to work out the urge?)

Kalan is the 'Dream Boy', because the writers never met a vaguely clever Moment from last week's show they didn't ache to beat into the ground. Also because, he, well, probably features in a lot of prepubescent dreams lately. (It's not actually necessary to type 'and the crowd goes wild in falsetto' after every vaguest official indication that he's in the building, is it? Because I'm not doing it. I love you people, but not enough to sacrifice my sanity.) And ironically enough, for the second straight week we need to call the People For the Ethical Dressing of Idol Contestants to discuss Dream Boy's wardrobe. That blue shirt alone has got to rate a felony child abuse conviction. Just say no to buttons.

Judges. They're all here. Ben has a new schtick, apparently; it involves barking out the intros like some sort of carroty-hued drill instructor, then snapping his eyes to the bleachers to make sure everybody's cheering RIGHT NOW! My eyes are rising too, but not for the same reasons.

Jake in sober grey suiting, what do you think of the themes so far? Great, we need to know that the Idol can sing anything. Oh you do not. What major purpose is served by learning the Idol can sing disco? That anyone can sing disco, for that matter?

Farley in cool slouchy linen, do you think now the pressure's on the Idols will stop functioning as a team and start working the competitive? Farley graciously refuses to give the obvious answer ("What do you think they're doing now, you moron? Inviting each other to tea parties on the lawn?") and just blathers on for awhile about 'stepping up'.

Sass in demure (!) black, do you think this format is a good way to find a Star, or should there be more development? He-yo, Benedict, no fair wasting the actual interesting questions on Sass. "I think this is really tricky, and they're doing a great job." You see what happens?

Zack in something jacket-y and cargo-ish...do you think CI's popularity is all because of you? "Why, no, Ben, of course it's all thanks to these wonderfully talented and charismatic young people who've captured the hearts and minds of Canadians," is what he probably should reply, the name of the game being all about throwing Benedict off the script. At least it was last year. But, after all, last year there wasn't Zany! Dore in drag, so..."Rant rant rant rant spray-on tan (Hee!) rant rant...Yes."

Intro video. Gordon Lightfoot is God, and therefore God really is just a slob like one of us. My last vestiges of CanCon nostalgia are cured by a montage of many vaguely unfortunate fashion and set-dressing choices, several of which set Shoemom to chuckling reminiscently. Somehow, they avoid using the phrase 'miraculous comeback'. Good show! Have a cooky.

Besides, I'm not sure the comeback was all that miraculous. Frankly, it looks like they dug ol'Gordie up, gave him a vaguely pleased expression and then shellacked the whole with a thin coat of Ben's spray-tan. However, he's also the propped-up dead guy who once got the world (or at least radio stations) to take a pop song about a ginormous cargo ship sinking in the St.Lawrence Seaway seriously, so is by default someone the future performers of A Moment Like This etc. need to pay close attention to.

We're following the same pattern as the Lionel show, ie a quick clip of performer, contestant, and that piano-slash-prop-for-the-dead-guy. Except of course that even Lightfoot's reanimated corpse is more classy, amusing and all-round original than Lionel's live presence. Also, no member of Lightfoot's immediate family ever appeared on a dopey reality show with Paris Hilton. There are deep and satisfying lessons to be learned from this, kidlets.

Elena. Working with Gordie Legend is so neat! Singing for him was just surreal! (Have Shack record macro. Assign Shift-FI. None of the kids are anything remotely less than flattered and honoured, which at least this week I think wasn't due to producers poking them with cattle-prods.)

Lightfoot's Reanimated Corpse clearly takes a shine to our Queen, and tells us that she has 'a different approach' to his song, heh heh. I dunno. He gives a little twitch here that could indicate either wry 'oh, those kids' amusement or rigor mortis setting in. I'm too startled at the notion of Elena caring that much to figure it out just now. She really is adapting to the prevailing mileu much better than I thought she would...wait a minute, of course she is, she's a musical-theatre major. Yep, stool, scarf, tousled hair, shy smile, sweetly wistful vocal, it's all here. Rogers & Hammerstein, eat your heart out.

Hell of it is, though, for once I buy into it completely. She's so beautiful, she sings so sweetly etc - which I'm beginning to suspect myself of being a real sucker for - and, yes, underneath it all there are glimmers of a real, independently interesting connexion with the song (if still no particular reason to believe that she's ever even gotten up early before in her entire life, let alone to catch a train). What more could you ask of an Idol contestant?

Jake: Captivated. He looks it, too. He also looks like he appreciated the nice view of the lavender lace camisole quite a lot, too, also.

Farley: You captured the emotion of it. Yeah, it bears repeating. Am I the only one who's still in shock over that particular factoid?

Zack: We get too caught up in the tech stuff sometimes (translation: I heard at least three off notes, but Security hasn't yet determined if Crazed College Fanguy #1 there is armed, so never mind), that was just simple and lovely and thank you.

Ben yada yada prettiest thing I've ever heard yada. Yep, he enjoyed the visual too.

Jason. Shift-FI...he has evidently finally found a hero who isn't a] himself and b] offering to stand a round. Of course, he's sure LRC was impressed with him too because, well, how could you not be? Meanwhile, LRC is executing Torvill-and-Dean-calibre moves around telling Jason he's messing up his soft, rueful song big-time.

This could be interesting.

Sadly - well, more like irritably - it isn't. He's singing a song about how damaged people learn to forgive damage in others, and it's apparently about fraternity brothers exchanging secret handshakes for all he knows or cares. Except that they must be really cool handshakes, judging from the smile. Eep. "He is just so full of...something," I grumble. "No, he's not, he's just a country singer," Shoemom counters. True this. If nothing else he has that syrupy one-sincerity-fits-all vibe that for years has enabled mediocre vocalists to sneak songs about cheatin' hearts and rodeo clowns and 'all the girls [they've] loved before' into the hearts of the record-buying - and simoultaneously beer-drinking - public. (Life with Shoedad being, uh, quite an education in more ways than one...)

So there's probably a place in the music world for Jason. And with any luck, it's deeeeeeeep in the backwoods of Muskogie or wherever the hell it was that Merle Haggard was so proud of.

Farley: lookin' comfortable. Translation: I don't know this song all that well anyhow, so whatever.

Sass: Gush gush gush odd little hand gesture gush. I think she's trying to tell him it could stand improvement without jeopardizing his chances of ending up in her hotel room later.

Zack: B-b-b-boring. Yes! Testify, my Idol muse! What the hell took you so long?!

Jake: Maybe Zack has boredom confused with comfort. (Not if I know Zack, he doesn't.) Translation: I always turn the radio station when this song comes on, so whatever.

Benedict: Ya took what was in there and brought it out for us to hear. You're assuming what was in there is what we wanted to hear in the first place, Benedict. Shut up.

Zany is out working the crowds, or was out working the crowds, or something. It's the 'Idol fever sweeping the nation' gag wheezing out for a pre-finale tune-up, anyhow. Never mind...oh, right, I'm recapping this week. You still don't have to mind, though.

He actually manages to keep the nausea-inducement to a low growl this week. Partly because public indecency regs prohibit most of his usual act, and partly because he's working with people who have an even shakier grip on shame than he does. He asks one fangirl with a big glittery 'Mrs. Kalan Porter To Be' sign if she's serious. She says of course. He asks how old she is. 'Old enough,' she snaps, with that calm reasonableness that devoted fangirls show when they're quite prepared to overcome all obstacles to reach the beloved, thank you, including but not limited to security barriers, happy relationships and quite possibly life itself. Even Zany knows when he's licked and moves on hastily. He messes a bit with an uninterested three-year-old. That's it, kid, forget the doofus grownup, go straight for the sugar. You'll make a fine Idol contestant some day.

Jacob. Shift_FI. He gets a few dry chuckles out of LRC; they seem to be having a grand time. LRC makes some wry comments about how "this is an interesting thing for Jacob to be doing, in his [pause]...career". Yo, dead and still shrewd, that's our Gord.

But by the end of the clip Jacob seems distinctly subdued. So you're saying no horsies, then? "I chose Sundown because there are lots of things you can do with it." Translation: "I was able to locate the one punk Lightfoot cover on the planet, and I truly have no clue what the hell I could possibly be doing with this material otherwise, so just go with it for the one week, 'kay?"

Uh...not quite OK. The visceral reaction is rising strong in me now. Don't you mess with the cooky-making music, Bozo Boi. But I probably would have forgiven him...sometime...except that listlessness as a performance style works even less well for me than ADD. And the vocal goes past uninspired straight to uninterested. He's singing the cover, not singing the song, which does indeed offer plenty of rich opportunity but would require some care and imagination in the digging. In the end...whoa, since when does the prospect of Jacob leaving depress me?

Sass: Not great, but I love you anyway. Uh-oh, Jacob, they're breaking out the Kaleb treatment. Run for the hills.

Zack: Horror show, but you're my poster child for Keepin' It Real, man. So...you're saying that his real self is a horror show, then?

Jake: Maybe Zack doesn't know that that's a punk cover. (I'm guessing he does, Gold.) And you nailed it. Well, whoopdee skippity, Jacob can sing punk. What happened to 'the Idol needs to sing everything''?

Farley: Moments that I truly, truly enjoyed. Translation: The other moments, however...

Benedict Arnold 'C'mon, drop that quarter' Mulroney gives Jacob props for 'dressing like a human being tonight'. So Jacob, quite naturally, gives him a wet-willie. Hey, logical progression for me. His duty done, Jacob looks supremely and radiantly content for the first time tonight. Ben does not quite succeed in pulling off the 'oh, those crazy kids, eh?' response.

Shane. The Way I Feel. Again with the passive-aggressive song choices. Was Clay ever this creatively hostile to Simon? (And if he was, does anybody have tape of the incident they'd be willing to sell?)

Anyhow. Shift_FI. LRC takes a fatherly tone with our daredevil perogy salesman, detecting a 'lack of energy' and advising rest. For some reason, I am cracking up. Annoying Donny Osmond clone or not, I think Shane's deserving of a bit more credit than this. LRC jokes he should be a judge. Isn't embalming fluid kind of expensive in bulk?

Performance...Well. Finally got the emotion chip installed, I see. The lab wasn't able to sign off on the beta-testing just yet - the 'interesting texture' subroutine, for one thing, is obviously due for installation first thing Tuesday - but hey, it shows real promise so far. That was Kalan-worthy passion (and Clay-worthy belting) in spots, even. Good on ya. Oh, hey, as long as you're tweeking, could you delete the program that draws your brows together into the Frowny Face of Feeling the Song? Thanks.

Shoemom, on the other hand, isn't impressed. To put it mildly. She's a technophobe at the best of times and let's just say the Shane-bot has yet to convince her he's real and lifelike. "Aw, c'mon, he sounds like everybody else out there! Would you buy a whole CD of that?" she keeps demanding at random intervals during the performance. And for some time afterwards.

Zack: Picks this night to have a major epiphany re: hurting contestant feelings. Either that, or he's just panicking over Jacob leaving. The result: Shane, that was a lovely performance, and the fact that I told Jacob he was a minor deity for being 'real' while ragging you constantly to radically change your entire personality doesn't mean that it wasn't lovely. Really.

Jake: You've just shown us now that you can sing anything. Translation, OK, OK, so we'll stop snickering helplessly every time we think of the Glass Tiger performance now.

Farley: Weibe will wobble, but he won't fall down. Y'know, every once in awhile an Idol judge will make a comment that just shouldn't be snarked on. We should leave it here, pristine, for future generations.

Sass: Totally changed the way I feel about you. Stellar. Translation: If this thing with Jason doesn't work out...?

Benedict: This is what he sounds like when he gets a little dirty! Erm, Ben...Lightfoot night, remember?

L'Oreal pimpmercial. Sunscreen week! Evidently, nobody in the L'Oreal offices has emerged from the bunker to check on the Southern Ontario weather for quite some little time now. Featuring, among other things, the word 'kooky', which I hereby decree is banned from any Idol show ever unless it's being used by/in relation to Jacob. Also, there are one or two disturbing questions raised in my head at least re: how Kalan has grown up on a ranch and kept that porcelain-pretty skin so, well, pretty. Perm, lipgloss, and foundation?

Theresa, to absolutely no-one's surprise, is enchanted with LRC and he with her. She is not, however, trembling this week; at least, not until he agrees to sign the guitar. Nobody's fool, our little jazz lady.

Hey, wait, is she singing along with Sarah McLachlan? That's...oh, traditional Idol intrusive backing track turned up too loud. Check. Coulda been worse; they coulda kept the sleighbells from the original, to go along with the Winter Wonderland lighting effects. And that weird floaty seafoam chiffon thingee over the jeans, which I've just noticed is empire-waisted. And the ubiquitous stool. And the big ol'glory note right in the middle of it all. I kept glancing around nervously waiting for the fairie dryads or whatever to show up. None of this has any right to be working at all, really.

But it does, and it's beautiful, because (unlike some other contestants I could name, but that would be mean, so I'll just call them Jacob and Jason) Theresa is that sincere. Never mind the vocal flaws, never mind that she sometimes appears to be pushing it a trifle too hard, never mind even the odd song selections; like Lightfoot himself, she has the true musician's gift. Of course, also like him, she needs to learn to use it wisely...but barring any sudden wild desires to pen, say, The Wreck of the Exxon Valdez, I think she's set fair.

Jake: 30-40 years from now, you'll be making it as an entertainer. Yes. Just hope nobody decides to anoint you a Canadian music legend, because going by the evidence tonight the disinternment process can be a real drag.

Farley: The good ones may slump, but they always come back strong. Is anybody else truly, truly glad 'Sokyrka' doesn't rhyme with much?

Sass: Beautiful. Translation: Even if I hated it, you think I'd be stupid enough to tell you so?

Zack: Jacob Jacob Jacob, with a side order of Jacob. Whoops, I called him 'Jason', silly me. Because his name, as we all know, is Jacob. Oh, this was a lovely night and it's so great that we Canadians can share this and thank you, that was lovely. Jacob.

Ben; The crowd was electric, you silenced them. Gee, you think the other four slow ballads just prior to this might've helped a bit, too?

Hang on, everybody, Kalan's pushing the limits of the alchemy thingee again. If You Could... is such a familiar song, he earnestly explains (with what I think might be more words in one sentence than he's used on Idol thus far); he wants to make it his own. Uh-huh. Last time you tried that, kid, you ended up wearing liquid eyeliner. LRC looks similarly unconvinced - albeit willing to take Kalan's age at face value, so there's a step up at least.

This time, it's a bit more convincing, primarily because Kalan is a bit more Lightfoot than Jagger. The vocal is strong and uncannily graceful as always. But...as several have noted, he clearly never did find the way to make it interesting. The camera and he are definitely on the outs (I think it's been cheating on him with Shane, myself). He's begging with it, pleading, telling it he'll do anything - frankly, I was just about to yell "Get a room!" - but it remains steadfastly unmoved. Gotta love this kid, though; he may not always get to the moon, but the uniqueness-bordering-on-genius lies in the fact that, at the tender age of eighteen, he's trying to reach it at all, or even knows the way.

Jake: Tells him he has no idea where all the vocal maturity comes from. I'm pretty sure Kalan's nightmares involve being an international rock superstar, going out clubbing, and then getting carded in front of his whole entourage and everything.

Farley: Is so stunned by the aforesaid maturity that even alliteration fails. He is so salivating over this kid. I bet he goes home nights and power-votes for Jason, which is why that bozo...[ahem].

Sass says that this all shows the genius of Lightfoot's songwriting - that it can withstand teenagers putting their clumsy stamp on it, she is implying, and Kalan is realising, quick 'nice job' notwithstanding. Heck of a time to start getting all insightful, there, Jordan. You thought the hate mail was bad when you dissed Manoah?

Zack: Is so worked up he forgets to mention Jacob. (Zack is supposedly truly great with children, very gentle and understanding. I think that's partly what's happening here.) Has also decided that it will take a 'thermonuclear explosion' to dislodge Kalan from the winner's podium. Somewhere in the wings, Shane seethes quietly while running his thumb along the blade of his Swiss Army knife.

Summing up...

Me: "I really fear for Jacob tomorrow."
Shoemom: "No way. He's gonna be final two with Kalan. He's the artist, all the judges love him."
Me: "Zack loves him."
Shoemom: "Yeah, well, listen to all those girls. Which reminds me, the girls are making it through this week for sure."
Me:"Yeah, I think Elena pretty well sang her butt out of trouble tonight. OK, then, how do we feel about Jason? Can he leave? Please?"
Shoemom: "No!"
Me "?!"
Shoemom (patiently): "Because if he goes, then we have to listen to that...that creepy...what's his name again? - Shane? - next week. Maybe more. Bleah. I don't wanna."
Me: "What, and watching Jason smirk some more is an improvement?"
Shoemom: "Aw, c'mon, Jason's not that arrogant, he's just a good ol'Newfie boy. It's - what was his name again? - who really thinks he's something else."
Me (reflecting that it's really time I went and made me some cookies): "Whatever..."