There Can Be Only One...and it isn't Chris Daughtry

So we move on from Coletrain's guilty pleasure, Highlander (gee, can't imagine why all the "Matt Cole gay" traffic gets shuttled here), to mine, American Idol. I wasn't going to say anything this week, as both my favorite voice (Elliott) and favorite body (see here, and damn, I thought I liked her chest best!) survived, but hearing all the gnashing of teeth over the premature loss of Scott Stapp-wannabe Chris Daughtry, I have no choice. (I figure he doesn't want to be Scott Stapp anymore, though.)

I could tolerate all the whining that the best singer has just been voted off, because it's true: Daughtry has perfect pitch, an uncanny understanding of pop music styles, and a strong yet non-karaoke stage presence (the perfect package, if only he had boobs...and was a woman). But after reading Robin Givhan's bitchfest in the beacon of truth Washington Post, I had to say something. And that something is, "Get Over Yourself!"

This show has not produced one single star since its first season, and even Kelly Clarkson hasn't reached superstar status yet. As I've explained in previous posts, the contestants have great voices that are wasted on singing covers exclusively, so they're doomed from the beginning. Givhan's title, "We Get the Idols We Deserve," is something I heard a hundred times out of Democrats' mouths in 2000 and 2004, and this time it's only slightly more relevant. But this line takes the cake: "In Daughtry, America had the opportunity to choose distinctiveness, confidence and cool. Instead, it chose bland and boring." Yeah, Daughtry's distinctive, if you haven't heard of Creed, Fuel, Filter, Nickelback, assorted other forgettable one-name bands, and while I'm at it, Pearl Jam. Yeah, I said it. The irony is that it's probably better for Daughtry that he lost, because he won't be tied up in Cowell's restrictive contracts, and can look for work heading one of the aforementioned one-namers.

I like American Idol, but not because I think I'm going to listen to the winner's albums, or ever bother to follow up on any of the contestant's careers. I watch because it gives me the rare moment to watch good kids with good voices (and sometimes good bodies) sing good songs, before they're swallowed up in a world of affectation, self-destructive egos, payola scandals, and Pearl Jam. Yeah, I said it.