This week, two contestants meet untimely ends on American Idol. The strangest part of this dual execution? Everyone's in jeopardy. The long-cemented frontrunners have slowed down significantly, and the waste-of-space also-rans have pledged to up their game. Let's figure out where each of the nine finalists ought to hitch their Miley Cyrus-autographed wagons, whether to old soul classics or current Kelly Clarkson hits.
Aaron Kelly
Showstopping Fetus hasn't wowed in weeks -- not with his Krackered-down versions of Beatles hits, or that amniotic gurgle, or his intrauterine gymnastics. Instead, he's belting and wobbling beyond credibility. Aaron needs "a ballad with tempo" if he's going to stay relevant in the coming weeks. Since he already suckled "Ain't No Sunshine," why not attempt another Kris Allen sho-cute classic with "Live Like We're Dying"?
Andrew Garcia
Eggbert's a sure bet for elimination this week, so he needs a game-changing acoustic triumph to outlast ciphers like Katie Stevens. He's got to leap from competent crooner to full-fledged performer, and for that he better take a long hard look at Jason Mraz's "The Remedy" (not my jam, but it works for Eggland's Best here) and learn to talk-rap at an expert level.
Casey James
"Jealous Guy" vaulted Casey back into contention last week, so he's got more time to enjoy how beautifully the rage-red Idol lighting falls on his wheaten tresses. At any rate, Casey can always stand to be less unassuming, and that means embracing frisky soul jams like "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" or "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" or "Ain't It Funny" (feat. Ja Rule). What I'm trying to say: The word "ain't" sounds good when Casey says it, and I want him to leverage this God-given magic into an empire.
Crystal Bowersox
Call Bobbysox McGee the uncontested champion all you want, but she's stagnating at a Melinda Doolittle rate. My dread is locked! You can't simply be thought of as "solid" for too long in this competition. Crystal's got to rev her best Emmylou Harris wails into a more vulnerable performance. I want some "Different Drum" or "To Know Him is to Love Him" or "Farewell Angelina" (look it up!) going on in this makeshift Monterey Folk tent.
Katie Stevens
The Principal's Bossy Niece doesn't have a prayer of cajoling this crown from Crystal, Siobhan or even Lee Dewyze. But Katie Stevens does rock a Charlotte Church-visits-Charlotte-Russe vibe that'd play tolerably if only she'd break her Stepford trance. Time for a louder, more urgent jam from Katie: Anything from Joan Jett to Avril Lavigne would be a welcome change of tune, and a welcome embrace of personality.
Lee Dewyze
Grizzlee Bore's really earned his nickname over the past month: Where Lee Dewyze excels in growls, he underperforms with nerves, a ho-hum personality, and petrified pupils stolen from Alex Lambert. He's like Brother from The Berenstein Bears: Still a bear, but wearing clean denim and checkered shirts, for God's sake. This week, I want unbridled strength from the woodsy creature -- if Daughtry is too obvious, then he should caterwaul away at a Pearl Jam anthem. "Alive," anyone? Perfect for him.
Michael Lynche
The Judges' Save may have salvaged his sinking Jell-O commercial pizazz, but Lynche has got plenty of work ahead of him. This week, he's got to ditch the falsetto, reach deep for the most powerful niche in his range, and pull off something from either The Preacher's Wife soundtrack or -- get this -- a Kelly Clarkson staple. He could kill "Behind These Hazel Eyes"!
Siobhan Magnus
Glue Lady's been lost in a regular tailspin lately. She peaked with "Paint It Black" and "House of the Rising Sun" and wafted into a world of lullabies with that "Across the Universe" rendition. To get back on track, I suspect she should (and maybe will) employ the stylings of The Pretenders. For all her bizarre bedenimed outfits and sea-breeze hair treatments, something is very grounded and urgent about Siobhan. She'd destroy "Brass in Pocket," "Mystery Achievement," and even the schmaltz-standard "I'll Stand by You."
Tim Urban
My favorite nickname for Tim Urban is "the American Idol." Because he just may be, of course. He's rebounded in recent weeks with the kind of underdog self-assurance that's known to unseat people like Adam Lambert. Now's the moment where he should tackle a female-originated song (not "Sweet Love" again please, for the love of sweet love) that doesn't stretch our tolerance. Come on, the "Bubbly" rendition was inevitable from the start.