Episode 4

Charleston, SC, the country’s friendliest city, played host to 10,000 expectant Idols in Episode 4, starting literally with Oliver Highman’s wife, whose water broke while hubby was waiting to audition.   

Cut to Atlanta resident Raysharde Henderson, who greeted us with a video segment demonstrating proper afro maintenance and a winning smile.  The 27 year old, unemployed, self appointed, “black Clay Aiken,” might as well have been wearing a Brady pantsuit and a target on his thorax.  Randy, Paula and Simon agreed with Ray’s auto-designation, and were generous with their criticism of his 70s, showboaty, Bonnie Raitt, lounge act.  Charming and entertaining, yes, but he was sent away until he finds his own voice.

Anger management candidate/waitress extraordinaire, DeAnna Prevatte, followed with a wowing and hostile version of Bobbie Gentry’s famous Fancy.  Hailing from Kellie Picklerville (Albemarle, NC), the young pressure cooker went off on a tangent about how she likes Kellie’s music, how she can’t walk in red high heels, something about revenge, and definitely there was a mention of strutting around with a baseball bat.  Unrelated, she also hates all-you-can-eat customers because they tip lousy.  With all this on her plate (hahhahaha), she will not be moving on to the Hollywood rounds.

The nerd light of love is strong with our next two contestants, Crystal Ortiz and Randy Stark.  Their long distance Texas to Carolina romance was born of the AI message boards, where they met giving advice about the audition process, and subsequently got in on a little admin action (wink wink nudge nudge).  They sang a syrupy duet like a couple of hypothermic meerkats, while staring uncomfortably (uncomfortable to me, they were happy as clams) into each others’ computer strained eyes.  Then they kissed and went home without yellow tickets.

Luckily, another combo arrived just in time to erase the memory of awkwardfest 2008; Michelle and Jeffery Lampkin, a brother/sister team of turbo spunkiness marked by a lot Little Richard-esque ow!!ing, and some boom chicka wawas.  Jeffery, wearing a navy/pink sailcraft tie around his head like Pat Benatar, led the duo in a rendition of the Celine Dion/R. Kelly vehicle I Am Your Angel.  The Lampkins were spot on with that sibling-specific, DNA imprinted, supernatural harmony and timing that simply cannot be replicated by a non-family human (see Hanson).  A couple of notes went sideways, but overall an impressive showing, replete with jumping up and down, stomping feet, and thanking Jesus with loud hallelujahs as they got the good news on Goldenrod. 

The "talent trek" pressed on with a PSA montage about retribution, set to the tune (using term liberally) of Carrie Underwood’s guilty pleasure classic, Before He Cheats.  Payback really is a bitch what with all that metallic gothic belly dancing, forgotten words, crib sheets, and lyrical improv.

Too precious for words, Mary Katherine Gallagher Amy Catherine Flynn (but you can call her “Amy, Amy-Catherine, AC, whatevs…”) flounced into the audition room next, beaming rainbows and sugar and arrogance and an evangelical message of abstinence.  The 16 year old sophomore at Knoxville Catholic High School refrains from sex/drugs/drinking, and instead gets off on power, 'cause being captain of the Dance Team means, “I lead, and like, everyone respects me."  Somewhere between her daily, short-skirted gyrations and the work AC does with a traveling student group that "preaches about abstinence," she also manages to be a singer.  Worried that Simon was not showing enough self-control and that his sexual affairs may be lacking in specialness, a brief sermon was delivered on his behalf before she finally outted with a decently innocent version of Christina Aguilera’s Reflection.  Simon thinks America will find her annoying and I’m pretty sure that’s why he sent her through.  Paula just straight loved her.

Air Force pilot Lyndsey Goodman, with exotic, transparent, husky eyes, will forever be the one who got away.  She was sweet, she flies giant military planes, and she sang a pretty version of Black Velvet.  True, there was too much quiver and the performance was a little short on affect, but there was a mysterious, come-hither quality that I wanted to watch develop.  I wanted to see wardrobe dress her up in designer gowns and choreographers teach her how to move on stage.  I wanted the whole AI pit crew to do their City of Oz thing.  Ultimately she was deemed too nervous and withholding.  I do not concur.

Aretha Codner from Jamaica (via Buffalo, NY) arrived next, stunning the judges with her turquoise, torpedo top, tube dress and big ol’ silver belt.  That’s all code for boobies, btw.  She demanded a recount after a triple, “NO,” but sadly the key-jumping namesake was sent packing.

With that, newborn Emma Grace brought closure to the South Carolina massacre, as Oliver Highman, 27, was given another chance to audition.  His baby and (probably the most understanding of all time) wifey stood guard outside the room, while the old fashioned new daddy delivered a warbling version of Get Here that was needlessly littered with falsetto and overdone vibrato.  He was good enough to send through, but instead they sent him home.  Feeling remorseful, Paula professed that she wanted to change her vote, but he’d already walked out and was most likely eardrum deep in Desitin.

What's Up Dawg?:  23 hopefuls