Amuseum

Back in Singapore and a little depressed about not being on holiday any more, we look through various event listings to see if anything interesting is coming up.

Alec, reading IS: We could go to the Maria Theresia exhibition.
Me: The who? What?
Alec: At the National Museum. The only female ruler of the Habsburgs. (takes a deep breath) Maria Theresia Walburga Amalia Christina…Aguilera.
Me: Okay, I wasn’t interested originally but I totally am now.
Alec: It’ll be fascinating to see her journey. From childhood in the Mickey Mouse Club to her adult persona.
Me: An artist and a monarch.
Alec: Exactly.

His Name Is Elliott Yamin

He wasn’t my favourite from the start, but how could he have been?

Until the top 24, the only real exposure he got was as a reluctant accessory to one of the Brittenum twins’ many debacles. Katherine got attention for having a mother who was a voice teacher. Ayla got attention for having a father who was a senator. Paris got attention for having a grandmother who was a famous singer (but, to be fair, also for the most spinetinglingly awesome audition I’ve ever seen on the show). Kellie got attention for having a father in jail and, later on, for defying every stereotype anyone had ever had about dumb rednecks by being even dumber than imaginable. But Elliott Yamin, diabetic and 90% deaf in one ear, apparently still wasn’t interesting enough to the American Idol producers to warrant any real exposure – at least, not until the Top 3 results show, when it was already too late.

And putting yourself into their shallow little heads, it was totally understandable. He’s got bad teeth, no titties, and is a nice, genuine guy, and of course none of that makes for good TV. Despite his lack of traditional good looks, he’s neither repulsively obese enough (Ruben Studdard) nor nerdy enough (Clay Aiken/Kevin Covais) to gain instant underdog sympathy – in fact, Taylor benefited much more from this right from the start, due to the grey hair and initial dismissal by Simon. Also, no all-consuming narcissism (Brenna). Also, no indication of serial killer tendencies (Scott Savol). What’s a nice guy with none of these trainwreck qualities got to do to get some attention?

Elliott’s answer to the question: Sing really really well all the time, including pulling off multiple fiendishly difficult songs with jaw-dropping ease. Sing songs you love, even if they’re not famous crowd-pleasers and the producers advise you against singing them. And do it all with warmth in your eyes, graciousness and humility, and a vocal tone that made me and many other women want to charge on stage and ravish him.

Well, his strategy obviously didn’t succeed in getting enough of America’s attention, but he certainly got mine.

I was bug-eyed, speechless and embarrassingly in the mood for love after Moody’s Mood For Love. Ready to enrol in teacher training college after Teach Me Tonight. Longing to go clubbing with him and dance like goofs after I Don’t Wanna Be. Wondering what it must be like for his girlfriend to watch her man, all dressed up and looking soooo hot, singing A Song For You to millions, and know she can get a private performance any time she wants. Exquisitely troubled after Trouble. And after I Believe It To My Soul? To put it very simply, a believer – that whether Elliott gets a record deal or not, sells millions of albums or not, he will be fine.

It takes a remarkable ability to keep things in perspective to pick a risky song like that, unfamiliar to many (myself included), knowing full well that it could seal your fate unfavourably in the competition but go for broke anyway because you love it and you know you’ll rock it. It was a great last song to be remembered by.

Please don’t disappear into obscurity, Elliott. I can’t bear the thought of never hearing you sing again. :(

Blasphemy

Earlier tonight, while watching Justin Timberlake: Down Home In Memphis on Starworld:

My mum: So who’s this?
Me: blah blah blah blah soooooo cute blah blah blah blah sooooo catchy blah blah blah blah fantastic dancer, look mum!
My mum: He looks like Gurmit Singh.

I have not the words.

[For non-Singaporeans: Gurmit Singh is a local TV personality, best known for an admittedly masterly comedy role as a dodgy building contractor sporting a mini-Afro perm, yellow rubber boots, and a large mole, best forgotten for an attempt at a talk show where he was probably trying to be Conan O’Brien but didn’t quite realize that only Conan O’Brien can be Conan O’Brien, and everyone else trying to be Conan O’Brien really just ends up as cringeworthy as Brooke Shields in Suddenly Susan. Suffice to say, he SO DOES NOT EVEN FAINTLY RESEMBLE JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE, OR VICE VERSA.]

Senorita Sucker

Senorita is a perfect example of how production and marketing can compensate for just about anything these days. Take mediocre song, imbue with mild catchiness by way of Neptunes beats, stir in some sultry honeys in clingy dresses gyrating to a song which isn’t particularly danceable in the first place, finally and most importantly add Justin Timberlake, and suckers like me will still be rooted to the screen every time it’s on.

Bizkit Bon Mots

From today’s “In Brief” column in The Independent:

“The American rock band Limp Bizkit has cancelled a British festival appearance this summer to concentrate on their new album. The band, led by Fred Durst, [above], was due to play at the Download Festival at Donington Park at the end of the month. Durst said: “Sometimes you just have to go with the flow of creativity and we’re doing just that.” The band, one of the world’s biggest rock acts, are working on a new release called Panty Sniffer.”

KLF Uh Huh Uh Huh

It was 3 AM, and I’d been reading the same sentence on the page of my IT law textbook over and over again for what seemed like forever. This triggered obscure skippety synapses in the Random Useless Music Trivia part of my increasingly bored mind and I found myself typing “KLF 3 AM Eternal” into Google just for the hell of it, only to reel back in shock at the discovery that after all these years of thinking they were saying “ACtion so GROO-VEE”, they were actually apparently saying “ANcients of MU-MU”.

Mood Music

We’re having a girly afternoon in the flat. Chicken in broth is simmering on the stove. I insist on playing Tamara N’Sync’s a capella versions of Last Christmas and This I Promise You that Avril recently downloaded. Tamara loves them as much as I do. We go through a long playlist of sappy R&B. We gush about how much we love All My Life (K-Ci & Jo-Jo). We gush about how talented we think N’Sync are. Halfway through No One Comes Close To you (Joe), Tamara decides she’s starting to feel a bit too loved up and needs a change of mood. Cue Fuck All Night (Jay-Z), followed by No Panties (Trina and Tweet).

Hot In Herre Head

Not since Erotica has an idiotic ditzy oversexed refrain so persistently tormented me. Nelly’s latest work of artistry features the eloquent chorus of:

Nelly: It’s getting hot in herre
So take off all your clothes
Random scantily clad ho’: I am…gettin’ so hot
I wanna take my clothes off

And it refuses to leave my head.

Celine Dion Reviewed

I have decided that every now and then on this site I should do something uncharacteristic. Branch out from the same ol’ same ol’. Stretch wings, and hopefully find myself surprised by unexpected gold at the bottom of rainbows, light at the end of tunnels, new and unhackneyed metaphors bubbling up from cesspools of cliché…

So here are some excerpts from a rather enjoyably-written review of Celine Dion’s latest album.

On My Heart Will Go On:
“The problem wasn’t so much an excess of technique, but rote excess. (Also, ever since Titanic I kept picturing Celine as the prow of a ship.) There was a primal leviathan of something, but it failed to engulf me. I felt right to be unengulfable, but not right to be ignorant about the nature of the engulfment. Twenty-eight million people can be wrong, but they’re not all likely to allow themselves to be bored.”

On lyrics:
“The sky is touched in one song, moonlight is touched in another, two songs have light in someone’s eyes, nine of the first 10 have sky or weather metaphors, rain can be cleansing but storms signify trouble, sun signifies rebirth, heaven signifies heaven, every child creates a skylight of beauty, etc”

Behind Scenes

I’m thinking there might have been a conversation something like this behind the scenes from Mariah Carey’s new video:

Director: Okay, Mariah, we think you’re really gonna like this one. We’re thinking this new video should break new ground, ya know, push the envelope, burst outta the box, yadda yadda buzzword.
Mariah: You want me to wear even less clothes than usual, act dumber than ever before, and generally just be the ultimate American white trash whore?
Director: Exactly. There’ll be race cars and lots of booty shakin’.
Mariah: Kewl.