Hollywood week wrapped up last night, but most of the auditioners left the Kodak without fielding a word of terrible scrutiny. Let's fix that! I'm going to be ruthless. When you destroy the classics of Ray Charles and, uh, Bobby Brown with your snarly showboating, I nominate myself to hurt your feelings. Onward.
Haley Reinhart: Oh my God, it's Billie Holliday! Nope, wait. It's a contrived teenager growling and wailing like a Rugrat on Broadway. And not even Angelica. More like Lil. (Apologies to the legendary voice actress Kath Soucie. Heart, girl.)
Ashthon Jones: Best performance of the night, bar none. "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" is done to death, but Ashthon (whose name is festooned with H's) sold the Dreamgirls floorboard stomper with the angst of three Jennifer Hudsons or approximately .026 Eddie Murphys.
Thia Megia: Thia, your first and last name rhyme too much. Ryan Seacrest almost fumbled his lines and called you Magilla Gorilla or Cheri Oteri. But you're 15, dawg, and you successfully took "What a Wonderful World" to a quaint elevator at my periodontist's office. You can sang fer sure, but you're mainlining Novocaine into my gums.
Clint Jun Gamboa: There will be no more "Fosse mime" choregraphy from you, Clint. That is all.
Kendra Chantelle: She was one of over 1,500 people to sing "Georgia On My Mind" last night, but she could've been the most adult-sounding (which is a really compliment in this group) balladeer of the evening. Steven's eyes lit up -- and that's nearly impossible considering he is Snoopy's squinty brother Spike.
Carson Higgins: "My Prerogative" is unintentionally funny, and Carson's stupid swagger made it... an unintentionally funny song full of stupid swagger. The sum of its parts, really.
Chris Medina: "My Prerogative" is unintentionally funny, and Chris's acoustic rambling made it... an acoustic rendition of "My Prerogative." All this math is really making sense to me.
Julie Zorrilla: Singing Sara Bareilles's "Love Song" is a good indication that you will bore others for all of your days.
Caleb Hawley: He growled, which makes me forget.
Colton Dixon: OK, I actually love this kid and his over-dilated Wes Borland eyes. Mind you, if you're named "Colton," that traditionally means your parents are insufferable yuppies. Let's not meet them, C.
Brett Loewenstern: The redheaded scamp who always gawks and shivers like he just witnessed a helicopter accident. He can live.
Robbie Rosen: Look, Robbie. You smug little grinning bandit. You shrugging little shell of a talent show runner-up. I knew you'd cover "Gravity." I effing knew it. I wrote it on my wall with permanent markers and some blood. I signed it with screaming. I am onto your phony balladry. This is some steam you can't iron your argyle life with, Robbie. You are effing named "Robbie." Watch out for me, tiny man.
Casey Abrams: Upright bass? What is this, the "Every Breath You Take" video? Alanis Unplugged? Don't ever make Joe Cocker noises like that again. Still, I can't help but love the excitement that came over Randy's face when she walked up and down the bass like the alabaster-skinned bluesman you are. Stupid "Georgia" growls again though.
Lauren Alaina: It took exactly two weeks for Lauren to become unbearable. She's aware that she's the judges' (and producers') pet, so she trills "I Don't Want to Miss A Thing" to cement her status. Bad news, Lauren: That song is for jags, and Diane Warren just made fifteen cents.
Jacob Lusk: Octave-climbing Jacob put Haley Reinhart's "God Bless the Child" to shame, but when he started stuttering lyrics like some sort of remixed Woody Woodpecker drag queen, I cringed. Then he wept like a lonely giant when he left the theater. Uncomfortable person with completely fabulous talent.
John Wayne Schulz: Lovely cover of "Landslide," but I need the Dixie Chicks to arrive and take this cowboy away. I don't do kitsch.
Ashley Sullivan: If she could stop having Drugstore Cowboy spazzes every three minutes, I'd sympathize. J-Lo tried to level with Ashley when she said, "You have to control your emotions," but the only emotion I see in her is "debilitating self-doubt, plus methface."
Stefano Langone: A dead-ringer for Stevie Wonder! We don't need another Stevie Wonder.
Jovany Baretto: Marc Anthony lost another seven pounds listening to this brawny crooner. Cute enough, but unremarkable.
Jacee Badeaux: I am so sick of nice people.
Scotty McCreery: I don't know the words to "I Hope You Dance" either, so I high-five his weird ass on that one. His voice is too low for human comprehension, and I can only conclude that he's psychotic. I wrote it, so it must be true. Tell everyone. Scotty's gonna kill us!