Jonny leaves...eleven remain...(more vague Idol musings)

So I haven't written about Idol in a while - the top 12's been formed and is now a top 11, following the elimination of deep-voiced West Australian Jonny Taylor tonight. I guess all there is to do now is to recap what I think of the remaining contestants, and what I think might pan out over the next few months or so...

Chrislyn Hamilton, then, is the seventeen year old, vaguely corpulent soul and R&B queen - the first one through to the top 12, and the first (and god forbid, let's hope it's the last) recipient of the Kyle-Sandilands-Pseudo-Bogan/Ocker-Touchdowwwwnnnn. Sure, the girl can sing, but can she sing anything other than Aretha Franklin? Clamouring Captain Obviouses everywhere shout "Yes she can...she can do Tina Turner too!" Well...you get my point. It'd be nice to see some light and shade. And I wish she wouldn't say "youse". Now that you're in the big wide world, Chrislyn, it's time for decorum and proper ways of speaking.

Note: comparisons with Chrislyn and former Idol winner Casey Donovan are completely unfounded. They're both fat and young, but the similarities end there. As hard as that is for some of you to believe, it's true.

Wes Carr was the first to perform on Sunday night and was little more than mediocre, to be perfectly frank - yet having said that, he was much better than most of the Idolers on Sunday night. Decked out with cap and Decoré hair and epileptic leg, he makes for quite a performer, although his U2 on Sunday was fairly blah compared to his rather intriguing audition. He'll improve, I'm sure, and he still has to be regarded as the favourite.

Then there's Tom Williams, and I really don't want to talk about him. No, really. I understand that arthritis is horrible but I don't understand how that and a set of accentuated dimples can get you this far in what's supposed to be a singing contest. Ah well - tweenyboppers will vote away, and one can only hope that the 1800 numbers are being blocked on mobile phones all across the country.

Thanh Bui certainly has a killer voice - but he can't seem to put it to good use. Why wouldn't you be busting out some exciting beats, Mr. Bui, instead of the sugarcoated boyband garbage you serve up each week? He's like listening to the lovechild of John Farnham and the long lost Asian member of Human Nature, and I really think he should've got the boot tonight. Oh well, you can't have it all.

Emerging fast as Wes' only real male challenger to the title, then, is Melburnian Mark Spano, who despite his Hinder/Daughtry/Nickelback-like vocals, is starting to win me over. Hell, he managed to deliver his entire performance in key last night, which is something I wish could be said for all the contestants. Add to that a bit of stage presence, some musical sensibility and some brains - even if he is a labourer - and we've got ourselves a dogfight on our hands.

This year's resident blockhead (and in this case, the moniker is literal) is Teale Jakubenko, who managed to score that coveted sixth place into the Top 12, most recently taken by 2007 resident surf bogan, Marty Simpson. I'm not exactly sure what kind of music Teale sings - all I know is that his head is shaped like a square, he has the most terrible beard, and the end of his song last night sounded like yodelling. Get him off, I say, get him off.

Now, if you thought Teale was a stupid name, try this one on for size: Madam Parker. Yes, that's right, Madam. Emily and Lavina Williams' long lost cousin - or perhaps sister - is a quiet, shy R&B single mother who brings new meaning to the term "trippy". Constantly spaced out, Madam is something of an enigma. Yet somehow, unlike most of Idol's resident divas, it turns out she understands that singing isn't all about belting out big notes - take note, Marcia. Unlike Tarisai Vushe, she can do modesty without fakeness. Somehow, I can see her going a long way.

Brooke Addamo, from Werribee (I know people from Werribee! Ha!) is blessed with the unfortunate distinction of only being able to sing ballads, but boy can she sing a ballad well. Unfortunately, after one ballad on live national TV the judges thought that was enough, and Brooke was lucky in the end to scrape through the first live Final 12 show with a creditable, yet poorly received performance of a non-ballad song. Hopefully she'll hold out and mature, because she's got a sweet voice and a nice face - which can't be said for a few of the others, to be quite frank. *coughcoughtomwilliamscoughcough*.

First of the wildcards through was Roshani Priddis, who I was particularly impressed with at the auditions but since then has muddled her way through a series of pitchy and uninspiring performances. Well, she got her mojo back on Sunday, tramping through Joss Stone like it was grade one maths. Who her fans will be, I'm not sure, but her sunny personality has to win people over soon. Surely.

Grrr...grrr...grrr - no, it's not your dog, it's actually Luke Dickens, another one of this year's one trick ponies. No matter how hard I try, I can't get past the fact that Luke can only do one thing - and that's grate and groan and growl and sing Joe Cocker somewhat ordinarily. I cannot understand how he is going to do disco, or Big Band, or - god forbid - sing one of those dreadfully honeyed "Winner's Singles" - but Aussies are suckers for a man who says "Yeh life's garn oright" and has a shocking beard. **coughcoughshannonnollcoughcough**. He's still getting through though, inexplicably to me, despite his voice sounding like he's imbibed a cheese grater.

Jonny Taylor from Perth looks like one of those guys you'd see at the Socialist Alternative club meeting at uni; an unshaven, scruffy thing, he doesn't look like he's washed in a week, and the red streaks and baggy pants only add to the "outsider" appearance. His deep dulcet tones never wooed me and, apparently, the Australian public weren't overly impressed either, as he's the first eliminated. Idol forumers are claiming a voting scandal, but really, when it all boils down, he didn't have that much talent to begin with. **coughcoughnicolebankswasrobbedcoughcough**.

And finally...Sophie Paterson. Now, after the Top 24 was announced, I arrived at the decision that Sophie was my favourite remaining contestant. That tousled blonde hair, the introspective, soulful voice - she'd won me over big time. After nailing her semi-final performance, I awaited, quietly confident, only for her to be turned down. Luckily, she snared a wildcard, only to deliver her song in what was possibly the Star-Trek dialect Kling-on. Nevertheless, Australia, an "accepting" country, voted her through to the Top 12, where diction problems continued - debate rages on whether she was singing the Counting Crows last night in Swahili or Icelandic. On a serious note, I do wish she'd get her enunciation right, because I've listened to her originals and they are truly outstanding. Sophie, get your shit together, and make things work, because you of all people are someone who could emerge as truly stellar from this top 12.

And so that's it. Wes should win; Chrislyn, Madam and Roshani will eventually out-diva each other; Mark is the dark horse; Tom, Teale and Thanh (the three Ts) are a collective waste of space; Luke needs to learn that growling's not the new black; Brooke'll do well when she goes back to ballads; and Sophie will win you all over, I guarantee it, when she starts singing in English again.

Write your opinions pur-lease.

karma kids. :)