#MCM - The Rocker Edition

Okay, we all know by now I have an unabashed passion for rockers. There's nothing quite as sexy as a hot guy who can sing, especially one who straddles that line between brash bad boy and the sentimental romantic. He's a rebel from top to toe, but can capture your heart with one softly crooned lyric.

Oh, my heart.

It started in the 1970s, courtesy of reruns of the Monkees. Yes, I'm old enough to proclaim, like many a female in my generation, that Davy Jones was my first #ManCrush. I mean, come on. How adorable is he?

When I was nine, he was my ideal. Dark, floppy hair, soulful brown eyes and that accent? Please. I was a puddle of fourth-grade girly goo. Daydream believer, indeed.



My love for him was so much of a part of my childhood that when he passed, my best friend immediately contacted me when he got the news just to see if I was okay. And it was a heartbreaking loss. You never forget your first.

Eventually my tastes evolved when I discovered FM radio, where rockers sang about more mature topics. In 1979, I heard this song, which began my Groupie era in earnest.



I can't tell you what it was exactly about Steve Perry that hooked me. Sure he had all that gorgeous hair, which became a long-standing fascination from the time I was 11. And Lord only knows what those eyes did to me (always, ALWAYS the eyes.)

Maybe it was the fact he was so exotic and different, and I really like different. That voice, tho. Sweet as sugar. Smooth as silk. To. This. Day, if I want to feel better about anything, I can turn on a Steve Perry tune and my mood elevates, my stress dissipates and life is just generally better. My guys have Journey at the ready for those Just-In-Case-of-PMS emergencies.



(3:58 into the above video and I'm buttah. BUTTAH, I tell you. Stay awhile? I'll stay forever. Just ask anyone who has ever wanted to be rid of me.)

Loved him then. Love him now. There ain't no shame in my Groupie game.



In the early 80s, I discovered Prince courtesy of the 1999 album. You want to talk about sex? This guy was walking, talking, *oozing* sex. He sang about naughty things, dirty things... things that piqued the interest of a girl fast-tracked to bypass sweet, innocent puppy love altogether and leap headlong into the fine art of seduction. As anyone who loves them will attest, no one will get you there like a rocker.

There are so many songs I could put here... Little Red Corvette, Head, Jack U Off, International Lover, Kiss, Gett Off (my favorite.) But it's Prince, and YouTube doesn't tell Prince what to do, he tells YouTube what to do.

Prince puts the SWAG in swagger.



Thirty years later and he's still hawt enough to reduce grown women to teenagers, even if he left a lot of his dirty rocker ways in the 80s where they thrived.



Growing up in the 1980s, it was a good time to be a groupie. Before the rise of the Boy Bands, the Rocker Daze of the 80s gave us full-grown men who knew what they were doing when they'd smirk in the camera. Our guys were both pretty and dirty, with a healthy dose of the aforementioned swagger. (And oh, the hair...)









Needless to say, as a wild 80s child, rockers became my kryptonite. It was so bad that even if someone wasn't necessarily known for singing per se, if they could randomly break into song with smirk n' swagger, I was a goner.



Still holds true, actually...



Truth is, I didn't get on board with American Idol until they finally unearthed a long-haired, smirking rocker boy who could, and did, sing actual rock songs.



Yes, I have a problem. The first step is admitting it.

In fact, the older I get, the dirtier I like 'em. In the 90s and 2000s I graduated to heavily tattooed, alternative rockers...

So the question isn't why I wrote a rock star romance, where the average girl gets the dirty, sexy rocker for lots of hot sex and years of angsty back and forth, it's why did it take me so long? (32 years, y'all. 32 years.)

This is my Vanni, who was heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeavily influenced by almost every guy presented in today's #ManCrushMondy #ManCandyMonday blog.

You can meet him, if you haven't already, in GROUPIE, available free at AMAZON, B&N, and iTunes.

If you love Vanni but haven't yet read the FIERCE saga or the SOUTHERN ROCKERS saga, whatcha waiting for? Not only do you get more glimpses of his Italian hotness, you get to meet Jace...

... and Jonah...

FIERCE and SOUTHERN ROCKER BOY are also free everywhere.

So Happy Monday, y'all ... and rock on.

Confessions of a "Groupie" - Author Backstory

For anyone who knows me even remotely, especially my work within some celebrity fan circles, you really don't have to wonder what prompted me to write the romantic, sexy, fantasy-filled backstage romp I affectionately and appropriately named "GROUPIE."

Truthfully, this is a book that has been in the making since roughly 1979, when I first had my first celebrity crush. I was about nine years old when Cupid’s arrow hit from a console television set. That was when one of the local stations in Abilene, Texas fortuitously began playing reruns of The Monkees.

Of course, I didn’t understand the concept of a rerun back then. I wasn’t even convinced that singers weren’t actually showing up in the radio station to sing songs throughout the day. All I knew was that the guys in the band were cute and made me laugh.

One in particular looked especially young, and in my nine year old brain that meant he was accessible. (I've always had lofty aspirations.) He had a baby face and deep, brown eyes and an accent completely foreign to my West Texas ears.

I had fallen like a brick for Davy Jones.


Imagine my devastation when I learned that he was actually about twenty years older than I originally thought. This, in my mind, meant he was no longer accessible. Not that he was a celebrity, not that he wasn’t anywhere remotely close to Texas, but that he was twenty years older and married.

These were hard and fast rules when I was nine years old. Needless to say, I was crushed.

Eventually I would move on thanks to a timely Christmas gift from my parents. My Bert & Ernie AM/FM radio allowed me the freedom to discover my own music. Because my nearest sibling was a decade older than I was, I spent most of my childhood as an “only child” – one that would have to come up with creative ways to pass the time.

Most of this I did in my bedroom, where the burgeoning storyteller began to take shape courtesy of my Fisher Price Little People and my growing population of Barbie dolls. My constant companion was my radio, and 1979 was probably my favorite year in music. It was new, it was exciting and most of all it was completely different than the Country & Western stuff my parents loved.

I sold my soul to rock and roll.

One of my favorite songs that year was a tune called “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” by Journey. I loved the more primal beat, even though I was much too young to understand the overtones of the lyrics. It took me a good decade to understand the barrage of “nah nah nah nah nahs” at the end of the track were virtually the singer saying, “Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah” to a cheating ex.

At the time I just loved the beat of the song and the pure vocal of the lead singer. I would belt it out with vigor every time it played on the radio.

A couple of years later I was staying up late waiting for my mom to come home from work, and much to my surprise (and delight) I found out Journey would perform said hit on a rerun of “The Midnight Special.” I perched in front of the TV in my jammies and waited with bated breath.

When I first laid eyes on the lead singer, I didn’t know quite what to think. He had long dark hair, something I wasn’t used to seeing around my military town. He had a prominent profile and a face full of character, an ethnicity I found exotic and strange. From the way he dressed to how he sang, I really didn’t know what to make of him. Then he went down into the first row of the crowd and sang directly to one of the girls, which tattooed itself immediately onto my 11-year-old brain and even eventually made its way into “Groupie.”



I still loved the song and couldn’t really get the lead singer out of my head, even though my initial response wasn’t the starry eyed infatuation I felt for Davy Jones.

I continued as a fan of the music mostly, but nothing could prepare me for that one summer night in 1983 when I would fall completely and hopelessly in love with a man I’d never met.

Back in the early 80s my mom was raising me as a single parent, and as such didn’t see much need for things like cable. I may have wanted my MTV like any other self-respecting teen of the decade, but I settled for Friday Night Videos.

When I saw that a Journey video for “Faithfully” was coming on, I remembered with a bit of a rush about the last time I had seen the band perform. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the lead singer’s hair was shorter and he now sported a mustache.

I never cared for mustaches for traumatic personal reasons, so I found the new look a bit jarring. Eventually he ditched the 'stache during the course of the video, and I found myself heave a sigh of relief that he looked more like the guy I remembered.

I listened as he sang about an undying, faithful love and after the second verse he turned to face the camera as he sang. A breeze lifted a tendril of his dark hair away from his face and his potent eyes stared deep into my soul as he sang, “I’m forever yours, faithfully.”



I was a goner. My heart fell down somewhere near my feet and I think for a brief second there I forgot to breathe. Forget getting struck by Cupid’s arrow – I had been leveled by a bolt of lightning. Within a week I had the Frontiers album in my hand and I showed my mom the man I knew I was going to marry.

These were big words for a thirteen year old. Like I said... lofty aspirations.

Over the course of my teen years Steve Perry would come to define my ideal. I was kissing a lot of frogs in those days, so it was just easier to put all my hopelessly romantic fantasies onto a person safely at arm’s length.

He was a safe outlet to love until I met my first husband and fell in love “for real” when I was about 18.

But I can still feel my heart soar whenever I hear Steve sing, and I know down deep that this celebrity crush actually helped get me through some very painful and difficult years as an outcast, with nowhere to belong and no one to choose me.



I’m still a fan, although I’ve given up on the marrying part. (Those who know me did tease me about my second husband being a “Steve” though.)

(Steve did, however, heavily influence a short story/novella called San Francisco Serenade. I guess I still have those lofty aspirations, I just leave them to my fictional characters these days.)

Many years later I would meet another celebrity who would have the same sort of impact in a more significant way. It started rather innocently while watching VH1 in 2002, when I caught a series that featured various celebrities waxing nostalgic about the 1980s. Some of the celebrities I knew, but one in particular, the one that stood out the most, I had never seen before.

To my surprise, I found his comments were the funniest. It seemed like my best friend of 20-something years and my second husband were all rolled up into one cute, comedic - dare I say - accessible package.



I found myself looking forward to comments from actor/comedian Hal Sparks the most, and over the course of the next few years (and several “I Love the” series) I became sort of what you would call a semi-fan. I was pleasantly surprised when he showed up in Spider-man 2, and I never purposely sought out "Dude, Where's My Car" or "Queer as Folk." But it was undeniable... each time I saw him I liked him a little bit more. It took me a year or so to get on the computer and find information about him. At this time I was still fairly content to keep celebrities behind the velvet rope. In 1998 I had attempted to meet a couple of my teen idols and was treated very poorly by one of the members of a band I had loved throughout my adolescent years. This rejection was directly due to my larger size, and this individual made sure I knew that he wanted nothing to do with me because of it.

When my friend tried to get a picture of me and this person, he made sure he grabbed a random stranger passing by to put right in the middle of us so he wouldn’t have stand next to me. (Look for me to get even with this individual in the next book. I think I shall name him.... NEAL.*)

(*Edited 2012 to clarify, I ended up naming him Leo. He's a dickhead based on a douche bag with absolutely no redeeming value. Kind of like the fucko who inspired him. But I'm not bitter. *Anymore.* Muahaha.)

Needless to say I was ready to keep all the celebrities I *really* liked under glass so I wouldn’t risk this type of painful rejection in the future. I never went to see Davy Jones in concert, I didn't stalk Steve Perry (much) and I was content just to catch Hal's appearances on random VH1 specials.

The more I read about Hal, however, the more I thought about going to one of his comedy shows. Everyone who had gone to see him had nothing but glowing comments about how wonderfully he treated his fans. Still, I was unsure and stayed mainly on the fringe of the fandom. I didn’t even get involved with individuals on the message boards because whenever I tried that in the past it always ended poorly.

I had yet to learn that some groupies and fans are a breed all their own.

So I missed out on things like Hal’s Sparksvision, where about 80 of his fans convened on Los Angeles to enjoy a movie premiere, a comedy show and a chance to see his band play live.

I was way too gun-shy to even think about participating in such an event in September of 2004.

But a mere few months later I would get another big surprise. In November, just days before my birthday, I opened up my email inbox to find an email from Hal himself. Initially I thought it was an auto-reply to let me know I had successfully joined the mailing list for his website. But when I opened it, it read, “A little birdy, and by little birdy I mean that big birdy you’re married to, said that it was your birthday!” He wished me a happy birthday and a great year and I sat thunderstruck at my computer desk that this person I hadn’t even tried to meet could reach out to contact me, this (figuratively speaking) little nobody from small town Texas.

I would come later to learn that was just the kind of guy Hal was. Even at his Sparksvision event he would go seek out those fans too shy to meet him so he could connect with them in some way.

I met Hal for the first time eight months later, when I made sort of a pilgrimage to see one of his comedy shows in San Francisco. I was still nervous that I would be rejected, especially since Hal is a good looking guy who makes no bones about appreciating good looking women. This is an equation that has NEVER really worked out in my favor. So I even shied away from going up to meet him in between the two comedy shows because I thought just seeing him perform in person was enough to make me happy.

Eventually, thanks mostly to the two-drink minimum (times 2,) I was able to go up and meet him for the first time. When he looked at me I didn’t feel rejected, if anything I felt completely “seen” for the first time ever. He has these dark, soulful eyes that reach right down into your core and immediately put you at ease. I nervously teased that I had driven through a tornado to meet him (true story) and therefore I deserved a hug. He gave me one freely, and not one of those wimpy side hugs but a full body head-to-toe hug.

Then he pulled me close for a picture, where he smiled big as though he were happy to do it, and made sure to give me another hug before I left.

I was hooked from that moment on. He didn't just treat me well as a fan, he made me feel valued as a person. There is NO ONE I've ever seen that has this much consideration for his fans, who will stand in line for two hours straight and still be as genuine with the last of the group as he was with the first.

This affirmation came at a point when I didn't feel that from a lot of people, particularly men, and helped me grow in confidence and self-esteem. It even gave me the courage to chase after yet another idol who had the same kind of impact on me that Steve Perry once did, turning me into a screaming teenager whenever he looked into the camera.

If anyone knew me from those days, you probably get a good idea who inspired Vanni – right down to the similar-sounding nickname.

*cough*Connie*cough*

Imagine that kind of swagger and intensity and you have Vanni, except he's Italian instead of Greek. (And of course Vanni likes those fat bottomed girls, which makes us love him even more. ;) )

Because of how well Hal had treated me I jumped headlong into promoting him and even getting involved in the fandom, which were filled with more normal people than I had found in fandoms previously. I figured that like attracts like, and the people that Hal attracted were just at a more evolved state as human beings.

Of course they weren’t ALL that way, and over the years I’ve spent in Hal’s group of fans I’ve seen quite a cast of characters come through.

And it is through all of these experiences that I finally decided to write a story from the fan point of view of that fantasy relationship with her favorite rock star.

I think this is a common fantasy that many of the women I’ve known have had a time or two. It was fascinating to write it from the perspective as the groupie who gets the star because I myself have never experienced this phenomenon, nor do I think I ever would even if I were single. The fantasy is a fantasy because real life can never creep in with all its disappointments and heartbreak.

The groupie experience from what I’ve seen is quite similar to the experiences I’ve had as the “fat girl,” who had the good looking guy give her attention behind closed doors but never had the opportunity to be the gal on his arm, and it is that emotional integrity I brought to the book.

There may be those who think that this book is about any one person in particular, but this is not the case. Vanni is a mix of what attracted me to my idols, with my own spin on what I would have wanted from them if I had pursued anything. The groupies, including Andy herself, were more a combination of the people I’ve met and known throughout the years, but most of the people present were basically enhanced for effect within the story. This includes Talia, the stalker-groupie, who encompasses all the negative things I’ve seen regarding some of the more aggressive (and questionably unhinged) folks who didn’t quite recognize or understand boundaries.

Essentially I took everything I’ve seen and learned and turned it up to “11.”

Hence the dedication of the book, for anyone who sees themselves in these characters and thinks that I have used them or their likenesses for the story. There are only three people in the book based on real people, and those people were acknowledged with special thanks for all their help both with the story and with research.

That means if I didn’t specifically tell you a character was based on you, it wasn’t. This book wasn’t a tell-all vindictive piece. It was a book of fiction based on fantasy, with a plot crafted for effect.

(But I’m willing to wager I’ll still be on several people’s shit list regardless of this disclaimer, which kind of makes this fantasy world within my book so much fun to twist around for my own purposes. ;) )

Now, for you readers who want to throttle me right now because of how the book ends, all I can say is hold off burning me in effigy until after the trilogy is complete with “Rock Star” and "Mogul." The “journey” is far from over, and could not be summed up in one book.

There’s more sex, love, angst and scandal to come, and then I'll do another blog to tell you what inspired the ultimate direction of this saga. Until then, enjoy the fantasy. I know I sure did.

American Idol Season 10 Top Nine Results: The Emancipation of Pia

After Wednesday's show it was hard to pin down who would be going home, so it comes as no surprise that it would have been a surprise to discover who that unlucky individual might be. However none of us saw it coming that a contestant considered a frontrunner, a fan favorite AND judge darling would be sent a'packing.

I was actually okay with the bottom three, even though it contained one of my personal favorites (Jacob.) I felt that of the performances the night before, these results were on target.

Stefano failed to really "bring it" the way I had hoped. I keep thinking that he hasn't fully defined his brand yet but I'm coming to the conclusion that his overblown, overdone style *is* - indeed - his brand.

Pia, though extremely talented, continued to bore me even with an uptempo number. To be fair I'm not really a big fan of big song divas anyway - and aside from a few choice songs have nothing much to do with the Mariahs and the Whitneys of the world.

So even if that piece of cheesecake is the best cheesecake on the planet, if you're lactose intolerant you're not going to order it.

(I do like Celine, but Pia is no Celine. She simply doesn't have the charisma, and I generally don't care for people who take themselves *too* seriously. Celine is a goof and a ham, which is what makes her fun to watch.)

I figured Jacob would end up in the bottom three for three very distinct reasons:

1. He went first. The curse of first has felled many a contestant, especially on nights where other finalists stepped it up and made their performance count.

2. There was nothing really special about his performance to make it overcome the curse of first.

3. His snarky, "If I end up in the bottom three," comment was unnecessary and off-putting. It's a little too early in the game to get that cocky, honey.

In fact when he rounded out the bottom three I grew concerned that his comment had been the kiss of death.

Instead he was sent to safety which left Pia standing alone with Stefano - which, of course, was writing on the wall for any long-time viewer of Idol. A dramatic TV moment was about to occur.

While I didn't personally care for Pia's style, I definitely didn't think it was time for her to go home. I figured she'd go all the way to the end like the equally talented but equally boring Carrie Underwood from Season 4. I was never a fan of Carrie because she, like Pia, had all the steak without the sizzle. Yeah she was good but there was nothing there to whet my appetite, and if you're going to earn a title like "Idol," you need that lil' sumthin-sumthin'.

Everyone likes to drive home that American Idol is a singing competition, but the show is not called American Singer. It's called American Idol.

It takes more than a great voice to be an Idol. Sure there are Idol type folks like Elvis, Prince, Freddie Mercury, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder or Mariah Carey who had or have great voices. But there are also those like - oh I dunno, spitballing here - Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, Steven Tyler, Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, James Brown and Lady Gaga that all had *distinctive* voices with rock star swagger and marketing savvy to make up for the rest. There are also the Madonnas, Britney Spears and Justin Biebers of the world who make up for any vocal shortcomings with nifty marketing.

It takes star quality that sets one apart, and that is many times independent of the quality of the voice. A great voice in the style of someone else doesn't make you a star. I was lurking around the Idol message boards last night and someone made a comment that really kind of nailed it: Everyone can compare Pia to Celine all they want to, but there's already a Celine.

But I held out hope that if Pia had been open to the idea of stretching her wings and learning from the experience she could have grown like Carrie did and gone on to be quite successful in her own right.

It wasn't abandoning the ballads that did her in. Ballads were a safety zone for her that would have inevitably got her booted anyway for not bringing anything special to the table. Like I've said before, having a great voice and hitting those glory notes lose their effectiveness if that's all you're going to do week after week.

Personally I don't know how or why she went from front runner to castoff so quickly. It ultimately happens year after year, and there's really no rhyme or reason for it other than other folks - for whatever reason - are getting the votes to keep them in the game.

Which, by the way, I've decided to change Stefano's name to Teflon, because absolutely nothing sticks to this guy. He's not reaching or connecting with me the way I had hoped he would but he's definitely got a campaign to keep him in the game when some other folks who seemed to have more fans/judge support (Casey, Pia) get led to the chopping block. I almost felt sorry for him, he looked as though he was suffering through survivor's guilt.

Maybe her fans thought she was safe because the judges always heap loads of praise on her. Maybe by their assumption she'd be around a while it lulled her fans into a false sense of security.

Either way, what's done is done. Many are outraged the "save" was used on Casey but let's face it folks. This is the way Idol has always worked. Even if a save was employed she may not have made it to the finale anyway, it may have only saved her skin for a few more weeks at best. I'm still not convinced Casey will win after his fortuitous save, and I *like* Casey.

The good news is that these kids don't have to win. As Tony nominated Constantine proved last night, you can find your niche in the world even without the top title.

Which, btw... I liked his controversial version of "Unchained Melody" even though I know somewhere Simon Cowell was jabbing his eardrums out with an ice pick. And I know it makes some of you folks feel all dirty the way he "leers" at the camera but I have about six years worth of Constantine "leering," "smirking" and otherwise "mugging" to catch up on after I feel prey to it in Season 4.

I like it... I like him... and I thought it brought some "rock" to an otherwise Rock-Lite Rock and Roll Hall of Fame week. The only problem I had was his over-styled hair. I like the dirty rocker boy look as much as the next gal, but I want silky locks to run my fingers through.

Is this really so much to ask?

Another bone of contention: As much as I like Skynyrd, "Sweet Home Alabama" is not a group number. It's a rock jam. They should have gone with this:



In fact, "Rock" week had a severe lack of the Rolling Stones... so you know what that means. Time for another Artist Theme Week.

Maybe then James will sing "Paint it Black." (A girl can dream.)

Speaking of rock, Iggy Pop brought his shirtless and... unique... style to the Idol stage for the first time on elimination night.

Which... I just... I don't... I can't... um... yeah.

And that's all I have to say about that.

So to sum up... I'm not brokenhearted about Pia's departure. Shocked, sure, but it was bound to happen with this crop of hopefuls. And it's going to keep happening as more and more fan/judge favorites hit the road one by one in the coming weeks. No one, with the exception maybe of Scotty, is safe.

Let's all just take a deep breath and put it in perspective. Without Idol we wouldn't have known who Pia was - and thanks to her placement in the top 11 she will get to tour across the country this summer so her fans can still enjoy her as part of the Idol family.

Beyond that, she's now free to pursue new opportunities.

It's all good.

American Idol Season 10 Top Nine Perform Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

I came into tonight with much trepidation, and I somehow suspected that the rock and roll music used to introduce the theme of the night (things like, go figure... Sweet Emotion) were, at best, misleading. This group, aside from James and *maybe* Casey are not rockers. Like we discussed on my wish list blog, there were hundreds of inductees and thousands of songs that could have been chosen to fit this particular theme. Since song choice remains a point of contention with me for our Season Ten finalists, I wasn't especially optimistic.

Overall it was a good show. These were solid performances that make it hard to pick which finalists will actually make the bottom three. The problem is I didn't *love* it. There's only one performance I was really excited about, but those I was looking forward to disappointed me and those who I didn't expect much from surprised me.

It was a weird night.

Jacob started out the night with a song change from the sexy Get Busy anthem "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye to the more noble "Man in the Mirror" by Michael Jackson. Smart move - he ran the risk of being hokey and inauthentic with the Marvin Gaye classic. He did well because he generally always does well. But unlike Motown night he didn't blow me away. Being in the first position meant he had to and he just didn't make the impression I feel he needed to make. This could mean the first trip to the bottom three for our favorite male diva.

Haley actually picked one of the songs I wanted to see her sing with "Piece of My Heart" by Janis Joplin. For the most part she gave me chills with her more authentic performance that I felt was a definite window inside the artist she truly wants to be. It's a performance where she abandoned the sex kitteny stuff for legitimate emotion AND her growl added to rather than detracted from the vocal. It fit, it made sense... but she also fights the tide going early in this show where other girls (especially fan favorites) maybe made more of an impression. If she does end up in the bottom three, it won't be because her performance wasn't good enough to keep her out. If anything, it'd be bad timing.

Casey returned to his roots by bringing out his bassy to deliver a more mellow version of CCR's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain." The only thing this performance was missing was a set of steel drums, an ocean breeze and a nice margarita. I loved how it felt Casey-fied, and I hope that his fans didn't mistake the praise he got as a reason to get lazy with the voting push to keep him out of the bottom three. He's obviously got a legion of fans who forgave such missteps as "Smells Like Teen Spirit," so I think his placement in the bottom three and possible elimination had little to do with his not having support. Last week proved his fans weren't willing to let him go. But they have to keep the momentum going, and we won't know until tomorrow if has.

Lauren took on some Aretha Franklin, which was quite ballsy of her. I had wanted her to avoid anything that required any real depth or emotion because she's a bit of the cotton candy of this bunch. To my surprise she did fairly well given the material she chose, and dug deep to deliver a performance that I never would have expected from her given her Idol journey thus far. Having done so she may be fresher in the memory of the voters than Haley, who simply had the misfortune of performing early on.

Admittedly I gave James a blank check this week to pick whatever song he wanted to sing. I guess I never expected a ballad, or else I might have advised against it. It seemed like a wasted opportunity. When else this season is he going to have access to the gritty rock stuff we've never seen on Idol before? I wanted something a little dark and sinister, like "Paint it Black" or something more theatrical like Alice Cooper. Instead I got treated to yet ANOTHER Beatles tune from James. And a slow one. I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. He was my one chance to actually see some ROCK on R&RHOF night, and I felt somewhat cheated.

HOWEVER...

It was shrewd of him to lay himself bare and show another side of himself as a performer. While it was slow, it was still authentic to who he is and better yet - he got to do a song that meant something to him. You could feel that by the tender vocal performance that was far deeper and richer than his normal "glory" note. This gave him one of his best vocal performances of the season so far, and even though it was a ballad my ballad-hating hubby did NOT fast forward through it and - even more miraculous - even liked it.

I think it just adds another color to his palette that proves he's in this thing for the long haul. I wasn't sold on him before they hit the finals, but now he's a contestant I look forward to seeing every week. No one is as surprised by this as me, and it really kind of maybe makes me like him more.

Like I had wanted, Scotty picked an Elvis song. Unlike the one I chose for him (a ballad) he decided to do something more uptempo and ran the very real risk of being hokey or corny by digging up some kind of half-baked Elvis imitation. He's still quite green as a performer and that manifests itself in awkward ticks, which he fell prey to as he attempted to bring a little rock to the stage. I thought it sounded great, but he has some work to do in order to refine his performance. Having said that, Scotty has a pretty staunch fan base that consistently keeps him in the top three over on the Dial Idol prediction site. I'd be very surprised if he doesn't make it to the top three, especially since he attempts to grow each week.

Pia came through on her promise to sing "River Deep, Mountain High." It was uptempo, it was a song I loved... but imagine my surprise when I was still *bored* by her... I guess it was a performance? I didn't buy it and it made me miss BOTH Celine and Tina Turner. Pia sings. She sings amazingly well. But when it comes to a performance she still has a lot to learn - which might be why she opts for the safer ballad route. She's safe, because her fans aren't going to let her go anywhere, but if she goes back to the ballads and stops pushing herself and following JLo's very astute and needed advice, she's not doing herself any favors to become the artist she wants to be.

American Idol is a turbo-charged training ground that she needs to utilize to the fullest, or else she'll fall the wayside just like the other wannabe divas who came before her.

When I heard that Stefano wanted to do a "romantic" song I immediately knew we were going to be "treated" to yet another ballad on a night when I wanted to see how people could rock. Or at least do pop. Then of course he does the almost hackneyed "When a Man Loves a Woman," so I immediately know he's going to make it all Broadway; overblown and overdone.

To my surprise he started out the performance the way I have been *begging* him to do. A spotlight... and just his voice tenderly singing a song to the millions of women just waiting for him to live up to the potential of his good looks. But of course he had to go and "Stefano" it and blew his chance to make it really, truly special. This performance lands him in my bottom three. He just doesn't have the "it" factor like some of the other performers, and I think that will be his undoing in the very near future... if not this week then at least before the top 7.

Paul took the pimp spot with a rousing version of Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues." I have long been on the fence with Paul. I love his voice, but watching him perform can be a bit of a train wreck. He's either spastic or inappropriately cheerful, and the best I could hope for was that he would put an instrument in front of him and otherwise occupy his nervous energy so I wouldn't be subjected to the discomfort of watching him flail about the stage.

I was even more concerned with Jimmy and Will.i.Am both advised him to sing the song like he was out of his mind - which I felt might have been like putting a match to a powder keg when it comes to the near manic style we've seen thus far from Paul.

Imagine my surprise when Paul gave me THE performance of the night. For the first time since we started I felt like I saw who he really was as a performer and I enjoyed everything about it. It was authentic and "right in his lane." He involved the crowd, which I love, and most important he had FUN. THIS is how you perform. This is what I want to pay money to see.

I can hear anyone sing on the radio... but when it comes to a concert I want to see a *show.* Thanks to Paul, I think this year's Idol tour could be just that - and it doesn't have to just rest on the shoulders of the more seasoned and interesting James and Casey.

So... picking the bottom three at this point is a coin toss. No one had a performance *worthy* of the bottom three (unless you count Stefano, and that was only by a hair.)

All I can hope is that my Jacob and Casey can escape the bottom three or going home altogether.

But I'm worried. I won't lie.

Only elimination night knows for sure... and I hear that Constantine will be making an appearance. That fangirly squee you hear resonating from Texas will be from me.

So get out your earplugs and wrap your crystal. That's the only warning you're going to get.

American Idol - Week One Auditions New Jersey

Season Ten of the iconic (and arguable) star-maker American Idol began last week with a dramatic upheaval at the judge's table. Only Randy Jackson remains from the previous seasons, which left at least two available slots open.

Jennifer Lopez and Aerosmith's frontman Steven Tyler stepped up to the plate to weed through all hopefuls for Idol's new season, including tender young 15 year olds who were finally allowed to audition for the show.

It was with slight trepidation and an abiding hopeful enthusiasm that I sat to watch the first show of the season. Sure I was going to miss the acerbic wit of our favorite caustic Brit, but I was excited to see what having a true rock Idol on the panel would mean for the contestants.

What never would have made it past Simon might actually get a chance now.

I was giddy at the prospect.

Rock idols and pop idols are two completely different animals.

So I'm kinda digging the fact there is one of each on the panel now.

I wasn't sure how I would feel about J-Lo on the panel. For all we know she's a diva who is ready to crush the dreams of these hopeful wannabes under the heel of her stiletto pumps.

I'm surprised and somewhat happy to report that is not the case.

In fact, of the two Steven is primed to be the rather firm voice of reason whereas Jennifer may provide the softer touch long missing since Paula's departure.

The only difference is... Steven's the one who's going to pop off with random quotes we're all going to be repeating at the water cooler.

Actual quote from an upcoming episode we have to look forward to:

"Well, hellfire, save matches. *Censor* a duck and see what hatches."

Of course Ryan is back to recite his usual mantra that this is the best batch of talent we've EVER seen. I will miss his playful, homo-erotic banter with Cranky Cowell, but the promise of more hardcore mainstream music and rock expertise by Jimmy Iovine does much to make up for it.

Let's hope that our Sinatra theme nights are far behind us.

I'm all about Jersey/NYC being the first stop on the audition trail... and not just because <3Constantine<3 kicked off the show with a brief but memorable flash of video. I still squeal like a 13 year old girl at her first Bieber concert, and when I tweeted as much I was rewarded with a response from the C-man himself.

In a word... SQUEEEEEE!

Things were off to a rockin' start.

One thing that became crystal clear during the season premiere is that Steven and J-Lo haven't yet endured the hell of Hollywood Week. They allowed a lot of folks through that are destined to be cut the first day.

This was especially true for the first contestant featured, Rachel Zevita.

Her rather theatrical vocal performance from season six won her a spot to Hollywood, but she ended up being scrapped the first day. Despite being cute and seemingly sweet, her voice just doesn't *fit* mainstream music that Idol seeks to produce. Jennifer surprised the young singer by telling her she remembered seeing her before and not knowing why she was cut. After Rachel warbled her way through an overly dramatic version of Hallelujah, I think the mystery was solved.

Steven believed she had the "what-it-is-is" and encouraged her to sing more like how she speaks, and she ended up back in Hollywood.

I don't hold out much hope.

NY musician Caleb Hawley was next, and he burst outta the gate belting out a blues tune.

Shrewd movie, given Steven Tyler really digs those rhythm and blues. Steven got into it and encouraged Caleb through a fun audition that resulted in another golden ticket.

All I wanted to do was comb the boy's hair.

He's got potential, and I'd really like to see what happens to him when he gets the benefit of a stylist.

The first young'un hit the stage.

Fifteen year old musical theater student Kenzie Palmer displayed a surprisingly mature vocal, but Steven wasn't sold on her rather lack-luster performance. J-Lo fought for her to get through to Hollywood, and I think her chances to go all the way to the top of the heap depends entirely on how much she's willing to "step it up a notch."

That Steven ultimately caved to peer pressure and went against his initial impression that she was lacking some star quality made me wonder if he'd have the backbone of Simon when it came to knowing what he wanted and what he was willing to settle for. The Gold Rush continued and I grew more concerned that Hollywood Week was going to bite some serious ass.

No offense to Rod Stewart, but in Idol Land the first cut isn't always the deepest.

Finally Achille Lovle took the stage and tried to fight her way through a Madonna tune. The new judges were quick to jump in and tell this aspiring singer the truth about her performance, but The Dawg himself was the one who delivered the fatal blow with, "It's not your thing, baby."

In fact, pulling a no out of Jennifer looked almost painful. She and Steven both seemed to get idea that they were in the position to be dream killers.

They don't seem to enjoy it as much as Simon did.

For those who tolerate the "mean" audition process to get to the good stuff, this might be good news.

(But I don't think it will last.)

The next contestant to hit the screen has the potential to reach the annoying levels of Those Who Shall Not Be Named from seasons past. She flaunted her full figure for Ryan - which is a bit like trying to sell a T-bone steak to a vegetarian.

His emphatic "no" he would not look down at her butt just made me long once more for the flirty game of boy-on-boy love that used to happen between our favorite metrosexual host and the tight-sweatered object of his affection.

All throughout the audition I was convinced that this dancer (?) was a trainwreck waiting to happen. She burst into tears seeing her Idol, and then when the magnanimous J-Lo went to embrace her fan the guys took advantage of the tender moment to get a good look at her more naturally given attributions. The boys bonded over cleavage, especially when she tried to belt her way through her own original song.

As it turns out, Tiffany Rios is fairly talented and earned a trip to Hollywood. I'm not especially hopeful that she'll make it past Hollywood week, even though Jennifer did try to convince her she needed to tone it WAY back to be taken seriously.

Jennifer continued to struggle with saying no, although Steven seemed to get the hang of letting the hammer fall.

It wouldn't be Idol without the requisite sob story, and that came with Robbie Rosen, the 16 year old that had recovered from being paralyzed as a small child.

His smiling, happy face beamed with his enthusiasm as he sang his own version of Yesterday. Despite his unconventional looks, there's definite potential for his winning the hearts of tween girls across the country.

Can you say David Archuleta? I knew that you could.

We may call Randy the Dawg but Steven brought his Rag Doll/Walk This Way/Sweet Emotion raw sex rock attitude quite literally to the table. If he gets through this without a lawsuit, we will finally have proof that there is a God, and he loves Aerosmith as much as we do.

As his antithesis, 18 year old boy scout Chris Cordeiro was next to audition, determined to revive the regrettable "Sinatra Night" of last season with "My Way." The best thing that could be said of the experience is that it was the most aptly titled song for his audition, because he certainly did do it his way.

Too bad it wasn't a good way.

Burper Michael Perotto came next - and if you need to know how he did, re-read the first part of this sentence.

Let's just say Steven found his inner Simon with the ever so tender critique, "Did you eat a lot of paint chips as a child?"

Move over Chris Crocker, 25 year old Ashley Sullivan cites Britney Spears not only as her idol, but her goddess and her BFF for life as well as a sister - at least according to the Zodiac. For some unknown reason she picked a song from a musical to perform for her audition, all the time letting her own little freak flag fly.

Normally I like this... but Ashely is one of those types of folks you have to take in small doses. After about two minutes of her audition I was already done, as was Randy Jackson.

Thanks to the new judges, she got through to Hollywood. Steven pledged, "I'm going to personally work that into something good."

God knows... I love his optimism. I personally predict she'll be gone by day one in Hollywood.

(And I missed Simon for the first time in the whole show...)

Sixteen year old (and 3/4) Victoria Huggins from South Carolina is another one of those "must handle in small doses" certainly has the confidence to make it .... somewhere.

If she doesn't make it through on Idol no doubt she'll be the next Internet Sensation crushin' it with her over-the-top personality.

If nothing else... she's good TV.

(But I'm fairly certain her summer of 2011 won't be especially busy with any pesky tours...)

Our next sob story was actually rather unique among Idol Sob Stories in that the family were war refugees from Kosovo.

Sixteen year old Melinda Ademi successfully tackled an Alicia Keys tune to prove her worth on the Idol stage.

Waitress Devyn Rush followed, and belted God Bless the Child with a distinct jazzy undertone much more advanced than her 20 years.

Steven described it as "delicious," and Randy told her she had the "right amount of sauce." J-Lo advised her to work on the total package with her image, and with the right stylist she could add another flavor to Season 10.

Here's a tip to all you wannabes out there... if the judges start singing louder than your already loud audition... that might be a *no*.

Also you might not want to sing a song that you hate for your audition, unless... of course... you can do it well. Because no sweet MJ moves are going to save your gold shiny self if you do.

Especially if it's a Miley Cyrus song.

*Just say no.*

And speaking of songs never to sing again, someone please take every last piece of sheet music that has Endless Love on it and kindly destroy it. For my own sanity. No one should sing it, especially a sixteen year old.

We got a two-for Sob Story right at the end.

Brielle Von Hugel was the 16 year old girl who sang Endless Love, no doubt in honor of the dad who thankfully beat cancer because he was so inspired to keep hanging around so he could watch his daughter grow up and reach her dreams.

(Honestly, though, I don't see her passing the rigors of Hollywood Week.)

One I do feel has potential is 16 year old Travis Orlando from the Bronx.

The family hit hard times in the city and ended up living in a shelter in a scary neighborhood after they lost their home. He doesn't have a whole lot of confidence, but he has a dream to save his family. This is another young'un who put his own creative spin on a Beatles tune. Like Robbie Rosen before him, he has a talent to spin a tune and make it his own.

And what a sweetheart. I think I kinda wanna adopt him.

So that was our first show of Season 10. Fifty-one people made it through to Hollywood, and of those I like the sound of Robbie, Travis and Devyn.

Who will make it? Who will get cut?

These are the questions I will answer for you on Driving on the Sidewalk.

Same bat time...same bat channel.