I Know What Boys Like

. . . and it ain't Randy Jackson in a bikini, my friends.

So, Idol also has male singers, apparently! This is my first time seeing them since Hollywood (when I was — what's the word? — unwhelmed), so I settled in for a comfy evening of low expectations and ennui.

Lee "Who?" Dewyze starts us off with a song I don't know, called "I'm Awake, I'm Asleep, I Have Dreams & Seams," and he is the very definition of affable. I enjoy his voice, I enjoy his low-key performance — there's no real star power here, but what's not to like? Go, Lee!

Hmm, perhaps I have misjudged these fellows! Perhaps I've been too quick to bond myself to quirky brilliant Siobhan, charismatic Crystal, and my lovah Didi! With an open mind, I warmly greet #2 guy, Alex Lambert.

And with his first nasal note, I slam it back shut again. Alex sings about "Trouble" dogging him since the day he was born (six years ago), and I feel his misery, BELIEVE me. Go home, Alex, to that strange barber-less town where you live. Please. Go home.

Up next is Tim Urban, whom I believe to be the "Vote for the Worst" whipping boy this term. He sings "Hallelujah," and I am at a loss, because I think he's delightful. His voice is clean and true, and it's a lovely rendition of this lovely song. The VFTW people can go hang — I am solidly on the Tim Urban train. Tonight anyway.

Andrew Garcia is up next, and I do my little Zen breathing thing where I let go of all my stored Danny Gokey resentment and open my mind to the clean slate that is Andrew. He doesn't help me by gibbering unintelligbly about "roots" for about five years. Andrew is singing "Genii in a Bottle," huh, and from the first note he's lost me; I cannot abide that high reedy voice of his. I also must document Andrew's accessories: V-neck cardigan, two chunky diamond earrings, and a chain on his pants. He's like the nerdiest gang member ever.

Once again I tried, Dear Readers, Lord knows I tried, but Andrew is simply Not For Me.

Casey James sits on a stool with his acoustic guitar and sings "You'll Think of Me," very simply, with his deep, lovely voice. This is the kind of low-key but smooth performance I go all kinds of nutty for, and no, it was not Casey's pulchritude, I kept my eyes closed the whole time, sisters. I'm determined to quit posting about how very, very pretty Casey is; as TV Guide admonished Kara, "Keep it in your pants, will ya?" He is a genuinely talented man and deserves better.

Hmm, but I'm startled by the judges' lukewarm praise, and Simon's later dis of "boring" performers who "sit on a stool playing a guitar." Wow — I find almost nothing hotter than a guitar-playing long-haired lovely man straddling a stool, but then, Simon is way more intrigued by Randy in a bikini than I'll ever be, so I guess it's safe to say that our romantic fancies have little overlap.

Time for Aaron "16!" Kelly, who sings a great big song with his sweet big-boy voice, and dances awkwardly, like one of those toys where you push a button on the bottom and it does a series of deep knee bends (what are those called?). But he is very dear and seems more confident onstage than the last time I saw him. His voice is fine, he's eminently lovable, and I want a lifetime of puppies and muffins for Aaron Kelly, really I do. Can I vote for that?

And now I'm starting to worry, because the only one I've really disliked is Alex Nasalbert (well, and Andrew, but I think there's a law against voting him out), and two boys have to go home; what does this mean for Casey? But thank heaven for Todrick Hall, who tries to convince us that he wants "Somebody to Love," when it's abundantly clear that he already loves himself quite sufficiently. Todrick prances and preens and delivers an outstandingly underwhelming vocal; you need a great voice to perform this great song, which Todrick has not got. Period. But oh my is he pleased with his little prancy self. Ugh.

Michael Lynche, another high-voiced man, is bringing us home tonight, and I haven't been that impressed with him before — and when he opens "This Woman's Work" with his customary falsetto, I roll my eyes. But then he won me over with his expert command of the stage, beautiful vocals, and near-perfect connection to this song. A truly fine performance and a joy to watch and listen to. Michael Lynche, who knew?

So, wow, that was some show! Low expectations, it turns out, are exactly the right companion for an evening of Idol.

Who is going home? you ask. Well, of course I vote for Alex Nasalbert, Andrew Underwhelming, and Todrick Prancypants, but I am scared for the Nice Boys who sang clean, quieter songs: Lee, Tim, and Casey. Come on, Idol voters! (of whom I am not, so far this season anyway) Let the right one(s) in!

With that, I bid you a good night. Lady Chardonnay, OUT!