"The X Factor": The final four perform in the semi-finals
This was "The X Factor" semi-finals, an event in which only the people at home have votes. Yes, it's like democratic elections in which the debates are tolerable because they only feature folks who don't matter - the judges.
Better (or worse), one of the songs was chosen by the people - the people who contributed their voices to the Pepsi Challenge song selection.
But first Steve Jones, Mannequin Man, had to determine whether Nicole Scherzinger was all right after the booing she received for failing to let Rachel Crow fly through to this stage.
She said she was fine. The crowd booed. Then she seemed less fine.
It is impossible to boo Marcus Canty. He is too nice, too sweet, too lovely. Here he was clutching a white rose, being romantic, sounding like at least one of the Boys II Men. The song was their "I'll Make Love to You." A lady dancer in red appeared behind him. Then another. It was as if time had stood still - in 1983.
"You are bringing sexy back," cooed Scherzinger, who does love to be loved, not booed.
Cowell offered a thorn of objectivity: "With the rose, the zombie dancers, it didn't fit." He blamed L.A. Reid. "You didn't change the song enough, L.A," he said.
Chris Rene, the previously broken man who had broken through last week, needed all of the show's 20 dancers to assist him through the upbeat grunting that usually accompanies his more reggae-ish, hip-hop-ish efforts. This was Sugar Ray's "Fly." It merely hovered.
He looked fetching in a James Dean leather jacket and white t-shirt. However, Rene, at this pace, is a weak singer. His voice is reedy - not even L.A Reidy.
Abdul told him he didn't look like a million bucks but "$5 million bucks after taxes." Cowell, again, grasped the truth and held it in front of the blind believers. He told him his vocal was weak.
Melanie Amaro is rarely able to provide a weak vocal. Given the performances thus far, she must have felt confident.
The viewers, though, had given her a cliche. "Hero" is a song that has been heard in every singing competition since Cowell single-handedly invented the genre, some time after the Cold War.
Amaro tried to make it pure. There was just a piano. Where was the gospel choir? Surely it had to appear. It had to be there to provide the big finish. Alas, there were merely three backing singers, offering a soft pillow to Amaro's low-key intimacy.
"What did concern me, was that when you started I didn't feel your usual passion," said Reid.
Naturally, the lady judges loved it. Save for the fact that Abdul found it a little downbeat.
"What that wasn't, it wasn't karaoke," huffed Cowell at Abdul and Reid. He explained that this was putting one's own stamp on cliche. Well, he didn't use the word "cliche," but I feel sure he thought it.
On the other hand, Scherzinger offered the greatest depth. "You've grown into the woman that you are," she said. Indeed.
Josh Krajcik has grown into one of the most tolerant people on television. He knows he must go through the motions of this show. He knows he must put up with the backing dancers from the local youth club. But he grits his teeth and keeps his hair greasy for authenticity.
For him, the viewers chose the Beatles' "Come Together." By this stage, one was getting an excellent sense of who the viewers of this show are: those who love Unalternative Music.
Krajcik gave it the full power and range of his voice, a voice that is by far the most distinctive among the contestants.
"I rather enjoyed that," begrudged Reid. "It's the best I've seen you in a few weeks."
"You attack our souls," soared Abdul. "You get into us." For once, it was possible to understand what she meant: Krajcik is great live, not merely as some sort of manufactured, recorded entity.
So we were back to Canty. Canty has been so equitable throughout this Twitter-feeding drama-fest that one cannot help but like him. It's just that his identity is as uncertain as his voice.
This time he donned a white suit and channeled George Michael. Wait, what? Yes, here was "Careless Whisper," discoed up. When you disco-up pain, you don't necessarily get joy. The dancers wafted around as if they'd hot-legged it straight from "Dancing with the Stars." The audience tried to join in the pretense that you can bop away sorrow.
Canty's identification of the notes, though, was indistinct. His identification of the current decade was also a little troubled. But he did borrow a couple of grunts from Chris Rene.
Scherzinger and Abdul liked it. Cowell was a little less certain.
"I've got to be honest with you. That was horrific," he said.
"That was a grotesque performance... like being in a Vegas performance in the 1980s," he continued. Sadly, therefore, it was just like Canty's first performance.
Rene said he'd never played piano in front of a live audience. Stunningly, here he was playing piano in front of a live audience, borrowing a hand-me-down from Alicia Keys.
"Everything's gonna be alright," he sang. Perhaps. Someone had given him a tie, a cardigan and a side parting, as if an agent had whispered they were remaking "Happy Days" and auditions were next Monday.
Rene has been strong when his songs have been stripped down and intimate. This was none of the above, as he abandoned the piano to strut and grunt and wave his right arm around in that peculiar semi-Mussolini gesture that hip-hopsters have adopted.
Scherzinger reached for poetry. Instead, she found this: "Because you believe, I believe and we believe in you."
Cowell told him he'd delivered "big time." Which was wonderfully strategic. Cowell surely doesn't want Canty in the final, because he feels he's the least marketable. Talking of which, Reid had another strategic wisdom: "Stardom was never about singing. It's about lovability. And you have lovability."
Craving lovability is the human condition. Melanie Amaro was surely craving a little originality. She revealed before this song that Mariah Carey had tweeted her. So she was still craving a little originality.
Cowell chose the song for her. It was not an original. Instead, it was, as Cowell said, "an old school classic" - the great "Feeling Good."
Amaro felt it very well. This wasn't quite Nina Simone. This wasn't even Cy Grant, who sang the original. It couldn't be. But even Amaro's Maria Callas hairdo gave her a little classicism.
Reid said it wasn't predictable and actually loved it. Cowell went on and on about this being why he'd brought his show (which is ailing in the U.K) to America. This was reassuring, as some still believe he brought it here to make even more money.
"Hallelujah" is Simon Cowell's favorite singing show song. A little sad, then, that Krajcik chose this, of all the songs in the world, to perform.
It was excellent. But it wasn't Jeff Buckley. It wasn't even Leonard Cohen. It was, though, the best performance of the night. Stardom isn't just lovability. It's the ability to create memories through unusual and moving performance. Krajcik just about got there.
"That lacked excitement for me," said Reid. "You've got to stop looking back to where you've come from and look toward where you're going."
Abdul was angry at Reid. How could we tell? Well, first she turned on him and asked him how could he say such mean and tawdry things. Then she wept.
Cowell agreed with her, but, sadly, didn't weep. Which would have been wonderful television. It would have been one of the greatest "X Factor" dramatic moments of, um, all time. It would have given him, well, lovability.
TOP: JOSH KRAJCIK
BOTTOM: MARCUS CANTY
