'Idol' Top 2 performance night

I gotta admit, PopWatchers, I got totally swept up during last night's American Idol. I think it was something about the goosebumps racing over my skin during the Davids' first songs that just washed away my better (i.e. snarkier) instincts for the rest of the night. Not even the sight of Constantine Maroulis' hedge-row of chest hair could shake me from my Idol-soaked reverie — well, okay, the sight of that V-shaped plantation of curly hair did cause my snark demon, Smirkelstiltskin, to dance a tarantella of abject glee on my shoulder, but, really, the pickings were otherwise pretty slim for the poor horned dude.

Part of that, I think, has to do with the Nokia itself. I can understand why the producers moved the finale here; the place is frickin' HUUUUUUUUUUUUGE, and I wish I had a more erudite way of describing it, but somehow "elephantine," "Herculean," and "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" just don't convey the HUUUUUUUUUUUUGEness that is this theater. Put it this way: Nigel and Co. could comfortably fit four of the regular Idol domes inside the Nokia's Mega Idol Dome. Or put it this geekier way: The Nokia is the super star destroyer to CBS Television Studio's plain old star destroyer. Strike that: It's the Idol Death Star to the CBS's star destroyer. Um, in a good way?

Well, to answer my own semi-question, yes and no. Like I said, the vibe was electric for even those lame-y second songs, which is a sensation only a crowd of some 7,000 people can provide, really. But it also meant that I was seated about 15 miles from the stage -- and, no, that is not me complaining, just stating the facts, I totally loved my seats totally, no complaints, thank you Fox for providing them! -- and since it took roughly 3 minutes and 32 seconds for the light from the stage to reach my eyes, I wasn't quite as able to soak in all of the minute behind-the-scenes details as has been my wont for the rest of this season.

But that certainly didn't stop me from trying, so let's all take this jump into hyperspace, and I'll download all the details I was able to discern with my wee peepers.


First, a quick note of the circus outside the Nokia, which I'm sure is but a gram of the kiloton of insanity that's set to ensue before tonight's grand finale. The winding red carpet was already set up for said finale, and beside that sat a small bazaar of Idol-related TV outlets already taping interviews with experts (like our own Jessica Shaw!) and Idol alumni (like, er, Anwar Robinson!). The will-call line was choked with people waiting to get in, and as I walked to grab my press credentials for the post-show "winner's walk," I caught Papa Archuleta and Mr. Brooke White snagging their tickets from a Fox official. (As promised, Mr. Brooke White had shorn his shaggy frat-boy hair upon the departure of his wife from the show. For the record, Mr. Brooke White, don't ever let it grow that long again.) I also caught one of our EW.com Idol commentators, Chris Sligh, entering the stage — when you're done here, be sure to check out the Idol finale columns he, Jon Peter Lewis, and Nadia Turner will contribute today. Alksjalzd.vjhalius (Sorry; Smirkelstiltskin just bit my fingers to protest such bald-faced pluggery.)

I passed through security (which, despite the warnings to leave all electronic devices in our cars or "they will be confiscated," wasn't exactly what I'd call thorough), and then, with my estimable colleague Shirley Halperin, wound my way past the walls of Nokia cell phones and Idol merch booths ("Vote for Cook" and "Vote for Archuleta" T-shirts were going for $25) and up the escalator to our seats in the Nokia "loge," which, to my disappointment, wasn't a winter Olympics venue. Shirley helped me identify the dance mash-ups playing over the speakers — "Bleeding Love" got the royal treatment, with beats culled from "Don't Cha" and "Yeah" — but with no Corey the Warm-Up Comic in sight, I took the opportunity to hire a sherpa and hike all the way from the loge to the front of the stage to get a closer look at all the goings on.

The front rows were thick with Idol alumni but no other discernible celebrities. Gina Glocksen signed autographs while Constantine enveloped fans in the balcony with his chest sequoias, and David Cook's little bro won some sorority girl "wooos!" all by himself. I also caught a glimpse of that one semi-finalist. You know, the one with the blonde streak in his hair? Who cornballed sang "Moon River"? That dude.

I hopped a Lear jet back to my seat in just enough time to catch Corey making his customary entrance — for those of you just joining us, that would be "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww yeah!" As our beloved WUC went through his full, unabridged warm-up routine, I realized with what Smirkelstiltskin was horrified to discover was a wee smidge of nostalgia that this was the first time I'd actually experienced Corey go through his entire routine since season 6. Even when the woman in the red-and-white blouse that seemed right out of Little House on the Prairie kicked off her shoes so she could more vigorously show us her Beyoncé, I couldn't help but break into a wistful smile.

Corey's scream-off contest for the Davids ended in a clear win for Mr. Cook, but my favorite two signs were both for Mr. Archuleta: One, a giant letter "R" and "U" and then a sign saying "LETTA"; and two, a row of Brownie Scouts each holding up a sparkle-motion-y letter that spelled out "Brownie Scouts Love David A." Their den mother — is that the correct Brownie term? I only know from Cub Scouts — assured me, however, that all the scouts "love both guys," but I don't know why they couldn't have also brought a be-sparkled "C." just to cover their bases, ya know?

Corey welcomed the judges, Randy greeting the crowd with the rousing "What's goin' down LA? Yeah yeah!" Nigel Lythgoe emerged looking, as Shirley put it, like he was ready for a rugby match, and with three minutes to go before air time, the other ten Idol finalists marched in and took their seats. (Even from 12.7 light years away, Brooke White's glow burns bright.) Debbie warned the audience that "something different" was afoot, and it was only then I realized that we'd seen no sign of Ryan Seacrest. I'd assume they were keeping him hidden to better set up the surprise Michael Buffer "let's get ready to rumble" boxing match intro — am I the only one who thoroughly enjoyed how the Davids completely embraced this vat of Velveeta? — but after we all finally saw Ryan emerge, it looked to me and Shirley like he may have just been getting an extra five layers of make-up instead. (An illuminating factoid: If you shrink Michael Buffer down to the size of your thumb, he looks like a thinner George Lucas.) Interestingly, D'Archie won the second Idol Death Star scream-off by a landslide, but the audio for much of the opening sequence was otherwise slightly janked. (Jankified? Jankeried? No, janked is right.) Foreshadowing the sometimes striking contrast in audio quality between the TV broadcast and live performances, perhaps? Indeed.

During the first ad break, the Davids came in for a hug — and not even the bro kind! — and then Debbie the stage manager had them wave to the audience as the Idol band played them off the stage with a fairly random rock riff they thankfully avoided the rest of the night. Nigel trundled over to what I first thought was the row of ex-Idols but turned out to be the seat of one Clive Davis, and gave the golden-eared music guru a thumbs up. As in, "Thank you, Clive, for choosing two songs so perfectly suited to their respective singers that you may have single-handedly elevated this ratings-challenged season into the Ruben/Clay stratosphere."

Because, as Eric Cartman might say, I'm seriously, PopWatchers: Both Davids had my skin taut with all the goosebumps they caused in this first round. And I was far from the only one; right from the start, Cook's "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" had the Mega Idol Dome all atwitter; a handful of people in the rows in front of me were even spontaneously waving their arms. And I didn't even care. I actually felt bad for D'Archie; whereas Cook got to glory note his way through a U2 classic never before heard on any American Idol stage, the chipmunk from Utah had to tackle a song that Clay Aiken had so memorably soared through way back in season two. (And, I'm sorry, but I've got to link to this rendition as well.)

I needn't have worried, of course; D'Archie killed it, bringing palpable passion to a song Clay had only tamed through slick-but-empty vocal virtuosity. (Somehow, I feel I've just managed to satisfy all the D'Archie fans while also inflaming the Claymates, which gives both me and Smirkelstiltskin a deep feeling of accomplishment.) As much as Cook bowled me over, I agreed completely with Simon that D'Archie won the first round — though Shirley, it must be said, wasn't nearly as sure. Here's the strange thing: After the show, as I was driving home, I called up my sister just after the first round had been broadcast on the West Coast, and she wasn't nearly as hot on D'Archie's performance either. When I watched it back on the DVR with my neighbors later that night, they, too, were fine to let the sun go down on Archuleta. And I can understand why: The audio mix on his performance was, yep, totally janked on TV, dropping the volume on Little David's vocal track just as he took to his feet and ripped out "bliiiiinded by the liii-iii-iiiight!" It made his voice sound under-powered and a bit tinny when, in the Death Star, it was anything but; so much so, in fact, that I suspect what caused the audio techs to drop the volume so quickly was the audience responding with its own ear-splitting cheers of appreciation.

Anyhoo, during the ad break, Little David did a quick high-five sweep of the Idol mosh pit, the techs brought out Cook's amp, Big David did a sound check for his second song, and Corey proved that joking with six-year-old girls about snagging a boyfriend is creepy no matter what the size of the venue. Best I could tell, the judges stayed put more or less during the entire evening, most likely for the simple reason that leaving their post to head offstage meant a five-minute trek, both ways. I'm sorry, my snark demon is telling me that time frame isn't randomly hyperbolic enough, and therefore not "funny." I apologize. I meant a 582,045-year trek, both ways.

The less said about the middle round of songs, the better, I feel, other than to note that my heart is all soggy now that it's clear neither of the Davids read the reviews Slezak and I logged of the 20 finalists for the songwriting competition. All the same, I would like to go on record now with the prediction that "No Turning Back" will be the winning song that the winning contestant sings at the end of tonight's finale, if only because Smirkelstiltskin is really digging what that title implies for the winner's career. The only excitement during the ad break between the songwriting performances, meanwhile, was when Ryan Seacrest hightailed it up the row next to me and Shirley's seats, and I mean right next to our seats — so close, in fact, that had either of our names rhymed with Pitney Wastorek, we could've tackled him and stuffed him into our bags before anyone was the wiser. And if he'd managed to escape, we could've just snatched him up again when he made his way back down our aisle during D'Archie's performance of "In This Moment." Although maybe we would've lined the bag with plastic first, just to be sure RyRy's makeup didn't smudge up our Blackberry. Which, er, we would've left in the car anyways lest security confiscate them. Right. Totally.

Um. So where we're we? Right, the ad break after D'Archie closed round 2 was equally uneventful, save the moment when Corey, while goading the season 7 ex-Idols to wave to the audience, said that Syesha was "lookin' hot" for all 7,000 to hear, which was just awkward for everyone, really. When we came back from the break, Shirley began curling her nose the moment Big David said he'd chosen Collective Soul's "The World I Know" as his final song, and then began repeating "bad choice" over and over the further into the performance he got. (By contrast, several people seated around us were quite vocal with their approval of Little David's decision to sing "Imagine.") I can see what she meant — "The World I Know" is not exactly the rousingest of songs, and Shirley rightfully pointed out that I couldn't conjure the non-chorus parts of the song if my life depended on it — but I still admired Cook for taking on a song that clearly represented who he hopes to be as an artist, and he sang the heck out of it, too.

Our debate over the song actually distracted me from observing much of the final ad break, although I did enjoy the extra guttural oomph Debbie gave her command of "A-pplause!" as we came back from it. After Archuleta sang "Imagine" once more (I still prefer his semi-finals version) and Ryan gave out his numbers for the last time, Debbie kept the kid put during the performance recaps, and then redirected both the Davids to the front of the massive American Idol logo. The Fox PR people had told me to get to the "winner's walk" press event ASAP after the end of the show, so I let Ruben Studdard celebrate me out of the Death Star and down into the media den in the Nokia basement, where I promptly waited two hours for my two minutes with each of the Davids. Actually, truly, this I didn't mind at all; it completely goes with the territory, and those two hours proved eventful enough that, once I log some seriously needed shut-eye, I aim to recount the highlights for y'all, on-the-scene style.

In the meantime, tell me, PopWatchers, was the audio on Archuleta's "Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me" buggin' you like it bugged me? Are you feelin' the Nokia as the home of the Idol finale, or are you pining for the days of the Kodak? And what the heck do you think was up with Ryan's make-up?

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