D.B. Cooper’s American Idol Tour Recap — Atlanta (07/31/2009)

Thanks to D.B. Cooper for sending me the goodies. Anyone else going to an upcoming Idol show??? Send me your recaps!!! SEND THEM!!! Then the handful of people who actually read my shit blog will read YOUR WORDS and you will be loved and adored amongst myself and a handful of people who read my crappy little blog. All kidding aside, I do want to read your first-hand accounts of Idol Tour Lunacy, so send, send, send! (And take photos, too. Yes, I know I ask a lot, but…take photos!)

Without further ado, here is D.B. Cooper’s recap. It’s pretty funny, and he even brought over a few photos, tales of faux hawks and ZOMG RUDE ADAM LAMBERT FANS!!!!

So we enter The Arena at Gwinnett Center and what immediately strikes me is that I am in a sea of white people. Old white people, young white people, middle aged white people, and real young white people. White persons. A lot of squares, daddy-o. People that own SUVs because they need the room to fit all their kids.

We take our (not very good) seats at the back of the floor just in time for the start of tenth place finisher Michael Sarver’s set. Sarver does two songs I don’t know. He is an absolute black hole of charisma. I don’t think he was ever supposed to make the top 10 (he took the spot slated for Casper) and it just goes to once again prove America’s love of bland crap. I definitely could have showed late instead of seeing this.

Megan Joy (Corkrey-Sobecki-Engle-Vladowski) is dressed as a Marilyn Monroe impersonator. She starts out pretty well, that Corrine Bailey Rae song actually fits her voice as close to perfectly as possible. Afterwards she sings another song and it blows, her voice is screechy and sharp.

Scott McIntyre is blind. Hand to God, it’s the truth. He breaks the streak, however, of blind singers who kick ass. He is inferior to Ray, Stevie, Jeff Healey, all those great blind blues singers whose first name is Blind, and Blind Melon Chitlin of Cheech & Chong fame.

Leel Rounds is the first singer in this bunch who actually has a distinctive, halfway interesting voice. She’s completely karaoke and unoriginal, yet she’s good in that little niche she has. She sings Mary J. well, she sings Alicia Keys well, she sings that horribly annoying Beyonce song as well as can be expected. She looks hot. She’s all right. And that’s a good thing.

Anoop Desai is a human sedative.

Matt Giraud, sporting a faux-hawk (in a feeble attempt to make up for Quato’s absence?), comes out and does Otis Redding’s Hard To Handle, and I don’t know what possessed him to sing this song in public. He cannot pull it off, he doesn’t touch Otis’ or even the Grateful Dead or Black Crowes’ version. The cool thing is that, surely channeling the dear, departed Quatto, he makes up for it with the rest of his set. His Georgia On My Mind is, thankfully, not reminiscent of Ray Charles’ version. All his little falsetto runs actually work on the big stage where they didn’t on Idol. You Found Me is a great showcase for the type of song Giraud could pull off in a post-Idol career. Very impressive.

Fodder medley: Michael Sarver should not sing Elvis songs.

After a twenty minute break (for the Idol faithful to beer up), OH MY GOD IT’S ALLISON. She, without doubt, tears up the stage the way NO other contestant on this shit show has ever done. No bullshit. That voice is gorgeous, powerful, dark, and distinctive. We start with Pink’s So What and Allison makes this song her bitch and rapes it, Oz style. Then Cry Baby and you already know what it is. For the coup de grâce she annihilates every single living thing in the building with a blistering Barracuda. Anne Wilson is a goddess, so is Allison. Barracuda is now a Heart/Iraheta song. The world will soon know that Allison Iraheta is a superstar. </tard>

I freely acknowledge that Gokey is a douche, and maybe (definitely) the double whammy of 24 ounces of crappy light beer to the head and Allison Iraheta just threw me for a serious loop, but I love Danny Gokey’s set. PYT is so much fun and Danny sounds great on it. The same goes for Maria, Maria. And What Hurts the Most, wow, so much emotion, if I brought a lighter I would wave it in the air (a cell phone is not the same). The last song, also by Rascal Flatts, is anticlimactic, plus I call bullshit that Gokey gets four songs and Allison only gets three and a half.

Have I told you guys about all the Lambertfrau in the building? They are representing and they are total douchers. The whole row in front of me is filled with them (plus one miserable husband) and I’m not even gonna give a physical description because a) it isn’t about that and b) they do not break the stereotype. Every time Adam’s face appears on screen they shriek, every time Kris’s appears they boo. These boos have character and meaning and are imbued with self-righteous indignation and pure hatred. These are “the South will rise again” boos. When Adam takes the stage the screaming in the whole building is deafening, so much so that it actually drowns out his powerhouse vocals on Whole Lotta Love. Apparently actually hearing the singer you love is secondary to freaking the fuck out and screaming like a teeny bopper at a Beatles concert. Starlight (which I think is also the title of a vampire movie) by Muse is a’ight, nothing spectacular. Either fatigue has set in for the Lambertfrau or they realize that this song is just so-so (I’m betting on fatigue) because they aren’t screaming as loudly. For me (for you) Mad World loses a little of its power every time he sings it, the joy and surprise are gone. Then, all of a sudden, out of the clear blue sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane, nah it’s super-rocker. Iraheta is back bitches and killin it for old times sake with her homeboy Adam! He ends with an anticlimactic Bowie medley. I love Life On Mars. Adam has all the talent in the world, he does everything right, he’s a natural performer, and, obviously, extremely good looking. Yet something is missing. That spark of character in his voice. I question his anointed one status, maybe I’ll be wrong. But he’ll definitely need more than the frauen to pull him through, ask Clay Aiken. Also, six words ladies: Adam Lambert will never fuck you.

Kris comes out, the Lambertfrau are unenthusiastic, I am enthusiastic. He does a great version of Heartless to start his set and the Lambertfrau in front of me leave with the quickness when he finishes. Ain’t No Sunshine is a light shining between a couple drab and dreary covers of The Killers and Matchbox 20. He closes with Hey Jude and everybody comes on stage for the climax. They should end the show there but then they sing Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing, which is a mess.

Great concert. I gots to drive home.