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Also showing vast improvement over last week was David Cook — let's call him Rocker David for the remainder of this column! — who didn't take a lot of chances (and went kind of flat on the chorus) with his cover of Free's ''All Right Now'' but at least proved that rock & roll needn't be an exercise in grimacing seriousness. Watching the ''word nerd'' strap on a guitar and cut loose was one of the evening's lightest moments, at least until he got all huffy over Simon's totally valid criticism that he needs to up his charisma quotient. Seriously, when are these contestants going to learn there's no winning a verbal showdown with the cranky British judge? For starters, contestants who kvetch always look petty and insecure, and what's more, Simon's retorts are always better. Plus, if Rocker David had really wanted to take offense at a critique, how about Paula's backhanded compliment that every seventh-grade boy with a guitar knows how to play the riff on ''All Right Now''? Ouch!
Simon was even tougher on Jason Castro, the only other contestant who picked up an instrument tonight, and while I can't deny that I heard the dreadlocked dude gasp for air before botching that big note on ''Evv-reee-thiiiing,'' and that Randy was perhaps technically correct in saying he's not a ''great'' vocalist, if there's one performance I'm downloading tomorrow on iTunes, it's his folksy cover of Andy Gibb's ''I Just Wanna Be Your Everything.'' There's just something so sweet and sincere about the sound of Jason's voice, and there's a comfort level he has as an artist, that somehow defies a post-performance critique. Not to mention the fact that his reluctant interview package — in which he expressed his surprise in discovering Idol requires of him ''a lot more of the not-music stuff than I thought'' — was the night's funniest moment.
Of course, first runner-up in the comedy category would have to go to Danny Noriega's zippy half-word response (''ish'') to Simon's question about whether, after a week to ponder it, the snappy teenager had come to agree that his week 1 Elvis cover was a mess. Thankfully, though, Danny fared better with his cover of the Carpenters' ''Superstar,'' showing restraint and power, even though he sounded just a smidge behind the band for the first half of his performance. If at this point in the competition, you put Danny in a teen-to-teen matchup with Little David, there'd be no contest vocally, but you'd have to admit the finals would be a lot less interesting without him.
I'm not sure I can say the same for Michael Johns, who seems to be losing steam faster than a teakettle in a freezer. I was stoked when I heard the opening strains of Fleetwood Mac's ''Go Your Own Way'' — that is, until I heard Michael strain every time he wrestled with the upper register of the chorus that Lindsey Buckingham delivered with such ferocity and effortlessness. Which has me asking: If it looks like a star but sounds more like the lead singer for a middling cover band, how far can it go in the competition?
Luckily for Michael, he's got a big enough fan base right now that he probably won't have to worry about packing his bags till the finals get under way, unless either Robbie Carrico or Chikezie discover the Fountain of Magnetism between now and next Tuesday.
I'll admit I've run hot and cold — well, mostly cold — on Robbie since his first audition. Although I really liked his take on ''One'' last week (if not his Brett Michaels styling), tonight's rendition of Foreigner's ''Hot Blooded'' was like a karaoke burger with extra cheese. I don't care how ''hardcore'' the guy's drag-racing habit is, real rockers do not hold up three fingers to signify they've ''got a fever of a hundred and three,'' nor do they open their shirts and point to their chests to indicate they've ''got a fever inside of me.'' Also, for some reason, I cannot shake the very disturbing notion that Robbie looks very much like Justin Timberlake with a really bunk weave. If you have not noticed this, please go directly to the DVR and check for yourself. See?
Chikezie, meanwhile, suffered from styling problems of his own, taking the stage in a very ordinary blue polo shirt (with a sea-foam-green one underneath — and also, I believe, a calculator watch) that seemed more appropriate for a backyard barbecue than America's most popular talent competition. And while his rendition of ''I Believe to My Soul'' was much more on key than his ''More Today Than Yesterday'' last week, I couldn't understand what the judges were so excited about. To me, Chikezie's delivery lacked the necessary ''oomph'' to sell such a big, raucous number. I only believed the guy to my dermis, but nothing further than that! (Side note: Tell me I am not the only one feeling woeful that Chikezie changed the pronunciation of the name his mama gave him just because people kept getting it wrong.)
NEXT: Two for the road
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