Idol Watch

Review: Allison Iraheta and the Idol curse

Allison Iraheta, Just Like You (19/Jive, 2.5 stars)

On American Idol this year, teenager Allison Iraheta sang if she mainlined cigarettes for decades and revealed herself as one of the most credible rockers to sing on the Idol stage. Of course, there is not much competition for that title, some people actually think David Cook is a rock artist. Heck, lil' dynamo Allison could have excelled on CBS' defunct Rock Star a few years back. (We hear Aerosmith wants a new singer...)

I was thrilled that Iraheta, though cut in fourth place behind the banal Danny Gokey, managed to secure a fast record deal at the same time as winner Kris Allen and runnerup Adam Lambert. But Just Like You, the resulting album, strips Iraheta of her personality in favor of off-the-shelf songwriting and overproduction.

There are moments. D Is for Dangerous is a kicky rocker and Scars is a heartfelt ballad.

Beat Me Up has the biggest hook yet could foster a backlash in the wake of Rihanna for lines in which Iraheta's addicted to a relationship so much she'll welcome mistreatment. But the teen probably means it the same way pre-disaster Britney meant ... Baby One More Time 10 years ago. The only drawback is that once Beat Me Up cranks out a classic rock guitar riff at the end, producers cut it off way too soon as if its editing was done by broadaxe. Audious interruptus. We can take a few more bars of rock guitar, peeps.

Just Like You suffers from the fate of 99.9 percent of first albums from Idols. Producers and songwriters all come from the same pen so the star isn't the singer but the studio personnel and every hint of personality is leeched from the performer. Iraheta could be Kelly Clarkson-Pink-Avril Lavigne, here -- seemingly anyone but the gifted Allison Iraheta who really earned that recording contract. Given her prodigious talent, that's a dirty shame.

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Review: Adam Lambert on CD not as outre as expected

Adam Lambert, For Your Entertainment (RCA, 2.5 stars.)

On Music Again, the catchiest dance-rock number on Glambert's anticipated -- I was going to say "much anticipated," but judging by its lackluster sales compared to the Susan Boyle CD that, in some accounts, is supposedly outselling Adam 10-1, "much" is overstating things -- everyone's favorite guyliner sings, "You make me want to hear music again."

Lambert's For Your Entertainment makes me want to hear Adam on Idol again. On Idol, Adam sang mostly familiar cover tunes but drastically reworked them and, in nearly all cases, dramatically improved upon them. Will anyone care to listen to Tears for Fears' Mad World again now that Adam made his rendition a new pop standard?

That's not to say For Your Entertainment is bad. In fact, his vocal on the gorgeous ballad, Soaked, might even top Mad World's. Soaked is one of the best pieces of pop music to come out all year and Lambert deserves a Grammy nod for Best Male Pop Vocal for this track alone. It's strikingly sublime.

The opening Music Again, written by The Darkness' hair metal upchuck Justin Hawkins is the best song Mika never recorded and Fever, cowritten by Lady Gaga, is similarly infectious dance-rock fun.

But For Your Entertainment gets docked serious points for not being the out-there, musically diverse, daring disc Adam Lambert promised in one too many cover stories.

 Instead, the highlights aside, the CD is pretty much standard first-album American Idol fare. Overly familiar songwriters (like the annoying hack-for-hire Kara Dioguardi, this generation's Diane Warren) turn out generic tunes like the truly awful Aftermath, a rocker so bland in message (believe in yourself!) and tone, it sounds like any throwaway David Cook or Daughtry tune -- and that's pretty lame when you have this guy's talents at your disposal.

 The title song, famously performed as a train wreck on the American Music Awards Sunday, still isn't very good but is slightly more listenable on CD than it was on live TV. Lambert deserves better than third-rate Queen. (Especially since we had more than enough of that from the ill-fated Queen + Paul Rodgers pairing not long ago.)

At 14 tracks, FYE is overlong and the latter third is pretty much a soundalike wash, perking attention back up solely on the electropop ballad Broken Open. (But it's no Soaked.) It's clear that Lambert's involvement with this album was muted by his obligations to the Idols Live Tour and all of the TMI interviews he gave to a fawning Rolling Stone, Details et al.

 There's a really good album in Adam Lambert when he can wrest control from the Idol machinery and truly deliver the musically diverse album he proposed. Soaked, alone, suggests Lambert's a musical force to reckon with.

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Adam Lambert's defense of performance holds no water

 
Idol Watch fans might wonder why I haven't reviewed Adam Lambert's For Your Entertainment yet, given how much I championed the finalist who I'd praised as the most interesting Idol contestant to date. Adam Lambert saved American Idol last season and made the show worth watching.

I'd stand by that claim. His rendition of Mad World still occupies a proud place in my iPod.

I haven't reviewed the CD because Sony, until moments ago, had yet to send me a physical copy for review. I won't review off a stream. A download's just been made available. I will post a review of his debut CD by week's end if time permits.

But I can weigh in on the flap surrounding his tasteless, train wreck American Music Awards performance. A colleague pronounced him a "black hole of charisma," meaning he was so charmless he couldn't elevate that awful, screeching song above the tawdry, desperate performance.

Former Idol finalist, Jon Peter Lewis, called Adam's AMA performance "art" a "sham." Much as I hate to agree with that little weenie (the Idol finalist, not my colleague, altho I hate to agree with him, too) I have to agree with both of them.

And now there's a backlash, much of it centering on Adam's defense of the act and the insinuation on Twitter that ABC would be practicing "discrimination" if they were to edit his act. He's also complained of a double standard -- that women have been doing these kind of sexual gestures for years (hello, Madonna) and no one complains but when a man does so, a gay man at that, all hell breaks loose.

 Good Morning America dumped Adam afterward, feeling its early morning audience and advertisers might not enjoy watching a guy jam some other musician into his crotch for simulated oral sex or French kiss another while screeching an unappetizing song like For Your Entertainment.

 

Adam's defense is hogwash. I find his bogus "discrimination" charge as unsavory as that performance and the song. We aren't bigots or homophobes if we refuse to accept someone on TV so desperate to sell a bad song and trite performance that they have to resort to generic sex moves to get attention.

If the song was great, Adam wouldn't have had to do the hard sell shock value. And if he had more imagination, maybe his act would have been memorable for the right reasons like Lady Gaga's earlier performance of Bad Romance.

And he's saying that women have been doing it for years and it's time for a man to get to do something raunchy or sexy? Uh, dude, I remember Prince. I remember Bowie. I still see Mick Jagger. Steven Tyler. Nothing you're doing, Adam, is defendable or new to males discovering they have sex appeal to use, too.

And then there are all the interviews he's given with Rolling Stone, Details, EW, et al where his whole focus is on his sexuality and way TMI about his previous sexual encounters in his teens and early 20s. Enough, Adam. If your music was worthwhile maybe you'd talk more about that for a change? Here's hoping the rest of the CD is.

 

 

Photo: Getty Images

 

 

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Review: Susan Boyle's not so dreamy debut

 
Susan Boyle, I Dreamed a Dream  
(Syco Music/Columbia; 2 stars)

To get the full impact from Susan Boyle, the unlikely spinster superstar who hailed from Britain's Got Talent and captivated the world (her debut CD, not Adam Lambert's, is No. 1 on Amazon at presstime), one must see her in action.

That comes as a bit of surprise. After all, her hips don't shake like Shakira's and no one would want to see the words "Rated R" tattooed on her chest the way Rihanna wore them on the execrable American Music Awards the other night. And you certainly wouldn't pay to see her in a vulgar display of desperation to distract from a crummy song and painful lack of charisma as Lambert did in his R-rated gyrations For [our] Entertainment.

No, Boyle must be seen because the idea of that true voice coming from that wholly ordinary persona is what made her a phenom and what made the masses so identify with her act of triumph and spirit. Boyle sang I Dreamed a Dream and millions dreamed along with her, held aloft by her pluck and perseverence.

But when you remove that visual element, as you must, on her debut CD, the result is that Boyle takes a fast detour into blandsville, barely removed from New Age narcolepsy as her ungainly yet mostly predictable repertoire ranges from church fare (Amazing Grace, How Great Thou Art) to the Rolling Stones (Wild Horses) and Madonna (You'll See) and even a reverential Christmas tune (Silent Night.)

It's as if her handlers know she's got but one CD in her before the novelty fades so they throw her entire repertoire into the mix so as to capitalize on the season of good tidings (and holiday sales) before reality sets in. She's not going to be a pop star for the ages ala Barbra Streisand, Celine Dion or other more pliable, rangeful vocalists who transcended unusual looks with glorious throats and occassionally challenging, surprising material.

Fact is, Boyle's not a great singer on CD. Oh sure, every note's in place and she sings in tune completely, so much so you wish Taylor Swift would take heed that, hey, two notes can be sung back to back in tune. But aside from finding the well of melancholy Mick Jagger only tapped on Wild Horses or the sentiment of the title track, Boyle's singing is merely ordinarily good. She can sing Cry Me a River but doesn't understand flair or building dynamics into a tune that only works if it tells a story with acting chops behind the vocals. (This one's no replacement for the sexy Julie London original or Streisand's sassy 1963 cover or even Michael Buble's recent brassy James Bondization of it.)

Competent but bland. The arrangements also take on a samey tone so that Madonna's defiant '90s ballad You'll See feels no different than the tastefully stolid Church Lady ballads that surround it. And say what you might about Madonna, but the provacateur is a much more credible vocalist. When Madonna sings her gorgeous You'll See you feel the vulnerability and hurt in a way that Boyle only gets to the surface of. 

Still, it's churlish to begrudge Boyle's wholesome moment in the spotlight. She represents good old fashioned virtues and a year ago few could have predicted she'd be edging the likes of Adam Lambert from the perch of the pop charts. Given the Simon Cowell cash grab nightmare his projects usually turn out to be, I Dreamed a Dream is on the drowsy side but it could have been nightmarish.

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Get on an American Idol commercial

 
If you can't sing your way onto American Idol, maybe you can shill for those who do.

In yet another scheme to generate interest in another season of American Idol, Fox has a new contest that could net the winner a chance to appear in a commercial for the coming ninth season.

Here's the link. Read the rules and don't expect to come into a bundle of money from residuals. But given how it appears everyone wants to be famous these days, we bet a buncha wouldbe auters line up to take part in this commercial contest.

Review: Kris Allen, the kid's alright

 

Kris Allen's victory over Adam Lambert in May on the eighth season finale of American Idol, not to mention other lop-sided, questionable victories such as Ruben Studdard over Clay Aiken on season two, makes the need for a change in how votes are counted glaringly real. Idol should take a page from Dancing With the Stars, which gives off the appearance of being more trustworthy and above-board, and factor combined percentages of votes from the judges and public and limit the number of times any one person can text in a vote, as Dancing does.

This would keep Idol closer to honest and give edgier (Adam) contestants a chance against cuddlier, bland, teen-friendly ones (Kris).

All of this is said not to damn Kris for beating Adam who has, far and away, garnered more attention for his coming album than the lower-key Kris whose performances on the Idols Live Tour this summer were the equivalent of invisible ink. Instantly forgettable.

This can also lead a non-fan (I'll cop to that) to dread Kris' self-titled debut (out Nov. 17) but the label's serviced an advance and, surprise, overall it's better than expected. He transcends this critic's expectations and fans should be most satisfied.

But first you'll have to get beyond the awful first single and opening track, Live Like We're Dying. To Kris' credit, he didn't write this abomination (it's a cover of a song by the obscure band, The Script) but he makes matters worse by singing it in a faux hip-hop/urban accent. It's little wonder such a dunderheaded move has been met with a collective yawn from the buying public.

Kris also struggles to find his own voice on the bouncy R&B-rock Can't Stay Away and Written All Over My Face so he borrows Adam Levine's. Swap these tunes for any two on Maroon 5's latest and no one would be the wiser. At least those two tracks provide some rhythmic energy so they earn a pass.

But Kris finds a workable pop/rock style of his own on the upbeat Kris Allen and its pleasures all come from his songwriting hand. He cowrote most of the album and all of its highlights, like the truly pretty Let It Rain with his skilled piano bed framing the memorable melody and the McCartneyesque-pop buoyancy of Alright With Me, are his. Fine tunes.

Admirably, Kris kept Kara DioGuardi's hack songs off his album (wish Carrie Underwood could have done the same) and bowed to concession just once by including a more produced cover of his Idol standout, Kanye West's Heartless.

The latter's OK and when Kris isn't trying to sound like someone he's not, like an off-the-shelf contemporary R&B vocalist, and when he sings in his own superior voice he's engaging. Kris Allen starts off with a major hurdle (that opening single) but ultimately winds up as one of the more likable, artistically valid albums from an Idol winner. In fact, song-for-song, Kris easily trumps the weakest Idol champ debuts (David Cook, Taylor Hicks, Ruben Studdard.) He even comes out ahead of Kelly Clarkson at this stage of his career. Remember, Kelly exploded on her second album, not her overproduced and generic debut.

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Review: Carrie Underwood plays on -- and it's OK

Hold on to something because the earth could skip a beat off its rotation. I come in praise of Carrie Underwood.

Regular readers might recall I've not exactly held the American Idol winner in high esteem since she won the show in 2005 over my pick, Bo Bice. She has since become the most successful Idol yet (or at least in shouting distance of Kelly Clarkson and that gap should probably close when sales of Carrie's third CD, Play On, are factored in soon.)

But here goes: Play On is not a bad album. It's not great, not even close. Carrie still lacks the interpretive skill to get deep into a lyric and convey warmth, understanding or nuance and her voice turns thin and gratingly reedy when she reaches for the high notes -- which is all too often. (Part of that problem could be attributed to the engineering on contemporary rock and country records these days which compresses everything into one flat sound and then boosts the volume's loudness until it distorts. For some strange reason no one has yet to explain properly, this has been producers' MO, perhaps to make their songs stand out on the radio or on mp3s, but for consumer CDs it yields aural fatigue).

 Good is stretching it, too, but compared to her wildly popular albums Some Hearts and Carnival Ride, Play On teases that there might be more to the robotic, remote persona than first glimpsed by millions on Idol.

Nowhere is this more apparent than on the lovely Someday When I Stop Loving You. Never has Carrie sung with more thought as she does softly on this effective country ballad. She also harmonizes well with Vince Gill on the tender Look at Me and the vocal restraint is most welcome. Both of these songs soar clouds above her treacly hits Jesus Take the Wheel or this album's pandering lapses into awkward Idol Gives Back social commentary. Of those songs, Change frets about the hungry and Temporary Home finds Carrie worried about foster care, Change is the less cloying. Perhaps that's because it has a strong melodic hook to override the easy sentiment. 

Carrie also reclaims ground lost to Taylor Swift as the idol offers more infectious guilty pleasures this time out -- and, unlike Taylor, Carrie can sing more than two notes in tune. Carrie improves upon the Shania Twain formula on the pop-rock single Cowboy Casanova which works that Def Leppard stomp meets country flavor like a pro. She keeps us from missing Shania.

 "Guys like you are the reason for" Songs Like This also improves upon Carrie's spurned and revenge-seeking firebrand style of Before He Cheats and Last Name by upping the hook quotient and for being considerably more believable from a lyrical sense. And, in one instance when she does go for the money-notes, as on the pop/rock title track, she nails them in a song that sticks.

Given how successful she's been, there's little reason to mess with what has worked commercially. But for the few spots where Carrie gives tantalizing tidbits of becoming an artist actually worthy of approaching all the acclaim and awards she's received, the standout tracks on Play On helps the CD earn repeat rotation and makes the sure-bet of album number four in two years not quite such a worrisome thing after all.

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