And the two faces met last night on Rock Star: Supernova. I knew I saw Paula Abdul in all her cheezy, metallic-fabriced, drug-addled, stiff armed-clapping glory in the audience. What was truly spectacular though was when Dave Navarro (whom I now love with the intensity of a supernova) pointed her out and T. Lee stood up and waved and in a schoolgirl voice said, "Hi Paula!"
Sweet-natured, utterly lovable and mockable idiot-judge-in-the-middle with a propensity for showing up to tapings half-looped on expensive narcotics and cheap liquor, please meet your female counterpart from another network!
Great television. Hey, if Idol can have Hasselhoff in all his moist-eyed absurdity, Rock Star can have Paula.
After that, the performances of the final four were just fine, but I'll admit I don't know who the hell they're going to choose. I assume Toby, since they've gone the distance to drag down darling Dilana, and because I just can't see them tolerating Lukas, and Magni just seems a touch too normal. I highly doubt they really care about songwriting skills, because I'd previously heard that all of Supernova's tracks were going to be written by Butch Walker anyhow. I think they're just trying to give themselves, and their singer, some cred with stressing the original material. Oh yeah, and they're selling all those original tracks on MSN.
Anyhow, loathe though I am to admit it, Lukas's "Headspin" is alright. Toby's "Throw it Away" is quite catchy, even on first listen, which means it probably doesn't have much longevity, because even though it's got a rock feel, it's quite poppy. But I think that's right up Supernova's alley. Compare it to Magni's "When the Time Comes" which has an old-school, rock drive but lacks the instant hook. It's somewhat reminiscent of Judas Priest, which you'd think would be right in the wheelhouse for "rockers" like Supernova. But no. They're old, and they want to make fat cash and make it quick, so they much prefer the pop-hook treatment. And certainly, Dilana's "Super Soul" is almost embarrassing, but the fact that fucking hack Gilby has the balls to tell her that the lyrics are too literal or whatever makes me almost pee my pants.
You ever check out any of this asshole's lyrics? Here you Go . In case you're too lazy to search that in depth, let me give you a taste:
From his masterpiece, "Skin & Bones":
I had a little sister who could drink up a storm If the liquor
didn't kill her she'd be twenty-one The good times, bad
times can't remember them all Must have been the thunder
The skeletons in the closet keep me awake at night The
thing that really scares me are the monsters I live with
Oh Yeah, Gil. That's neither literal nor overwrought you fucking self-absorbed twunt. That wasn't enough to convince you, gentle readers? How about this little gem, called "Cure Me or Kill Me":
When the first car hit the wall
Was the gulit still in or head?
In your magic crystal ball
Is the poweer that made you mad
You can't save yourself, it's a pleasure cruise
You're damned for a million years
There's a viper in your bedroom
Under the sheets is tarantula fuzz
When she bites, she bites for murder
I bleed the Addams Family blood
There's a spell on me that I can't reverse
It's a sympathy cross you burn
You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!
He has the brass balls to write about bleeding Addams Family blood and tarantula fuzz and then tell Dilana that her lyrics aren't so great? Hypocrite on a Triscuit, Gilby Clarke! Plus, he's also a condescending prick. I'm so sick of his affected voice when he's giving his feedback. Him and his ridiculous hair and self-loving face. What a world of luck this asshole fell ass-backwards into. He was, at best, an unimaginative, pedestrian guitarist who managed to claim some street cred by being in a band with Axl and Slash, and now, twenty years later, he's still riding that good fortune and selling it out for even more fame and cash by hooking up with the manufactured super-band Supernova. But he could at least have the decency to know what luck he's had and shut the fuck up and duck and cover and appreciate his good fortune instead of actually believing the hype and thinking he'd be anywhere near a fucking television camera if he wasn't flanked by Dave and Tommy. Fuck off, Gilby! Just fuck off already.
And with my hate now completely transferred, I owe at least a passing mea culpa to Dave Navarro. The eyebrows. The throne. The sartorial choices. I love it all, and I love him. He'd pretty much cracked me anyhow, but last week, when he got up and did "Suffragette City" with Storm, he had me. That's right. He had me at "Wham, Bam, Thank you, Ma'am." He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and after it all, he told her he could've gotten up and performed with anyone he wanted to, but he chose her. And I loved him for that. Storm had arguably the best original song with "What the What is Ladylike." And all season, Storm's taken a lot of shit from Supernova and handled it all with not just class and grace, but with guts and style.
I'm a week late, but that was a great twist to the evening. We all knew Storm was the next to go. Something about her crazy eyes and Kim Catrall meets Kid Rock look just wasn't going to be something these fellows from Supernova could handle. So -- fuck Supernova. Get DAVE up there, which had to be ten times more gratifying for Storm anyhow.
What the fuck is ladylike? Beats me. But Storm is the very definition of a dame. And I was glad to see her get to play with Dave. Why SHOULD she have to suffer the indignity of having Gilby Clarke fuck up one of her songs? Of course T. Lee wouldn't take the stage with her, she'd pull attention away from him. And Jason? Methinks if Jason had shadowed and then jostled Stormy the way he had flaccid Phil, he'd have ended up thrown onto the other side of the stage with her then walking across his back.
Don't get me wrong, I dig Jason, and I think he does hold the "credibility" factor in the whole Supernova formula. That's why they routinely edit out his comments -- because they make sense but they aren't sensational. I mean, it just doesn't make for as good television to have Jason prattling on about tone and constricting and energy when you can choose to show Tommy slumped back with his shirt unbuttoned and summing up a performance by going, "That was just...*insert growly sexual noise*."
Anyhow. Tonight they'll pick their new lead singer. The runners-up will certainly be issued a Chocolate phone from LG, and perhaps one of them will take away a Honda CRV, because that is what we're now supposed to Crave. Because that is the new face of rock-n-roll, staring back at us in the mirror. It's not an ugly, sexy beast that thumps for the sake of being heard through its frustration. It's a preening marketing tactic. But sometimes, it's also got a shimmery reflection that shows us what can be, like in moments when Navarro takes the stage with Storm: Unexpected, sexy, and totally upstaging the status quo.