Relax. I'm referring to the Results Show broadcast, not the beautiful and refreshingly fleshy winner, Jordin Sparks.

The jam-packed broadcast suffered from multiple-personality disorder. Was it a reality show? An awards show? A comedy show? A "Where Are They Now" show? Much of it seemed to me like a wedding - an overblown affair with complicated family dynamics.

After all the guests were seated (Jerry Springer and Jeff Foxworthy on the bride's side), the engaged couple came out to sing "I Saw Her Standing There." This portion of the show was the rehearsal dinner. Blake and Jordin were dressed stylishly but not too formally. They looked terrific, though I'd never before noticed their extreme height difference. A Sonny and Cher for the 21st century.

Soon enough, Idol's eldest daughter, the single and angry Kelly Clarkson came onstage to deliver her "toast" - a tirade entitled "Never Again." Never again, she seemed to say, will I come back - unless it's on my terms. No frilly dresses for me. No easy pop hooks. I'm not even sure I want to get married! I'm not Carrie Underwood. Hear me?!

We all love Kelly. She was the first Idol. She paved the way for her younger siblings. Clearly she didn't want to be at this event but when grandpa Clive Davis calls the family together, there's no saying no.

Next came the bachelor party with Blake and the guys - and Blake's uncle Smokey Robinson. (Just go with it.) Then of course came the bachelorette party where Jordin and the girls and their cool aunt Gladys Knight had fun! I wonder how randy it got backstage. Gladys dishing about the Pips? (Bachelorette parties are typically rowdier than stag dinners.)

UPDATE: Don't forget to take my "Mo Wants To Know" poll on the reason behind deaf actress Marlee Matlin's appearance at last night's Idol. Click here!

Tonight Jordin will be crowned the 6th American Idol, for four reasons:

1. She is, as has been said over and over, the "whole package" - beautiful, with a terrific voice, plus she's got great teeth and lips. When she opens her mouth wide for the big notes, she's thrilling. (She stubbornly anchors herself to the standing mic, but so what? Her future is in recordings, not live concerts.)

2. She's multiracial. America's Melting Pot is a more complex ever, with far more than two "ingredients." Jordin's the Tiger Woods of Idol.

3. She got handed a gift with "This Is My Now," the original song written by the winning team from Seattle. It's a dopey song, but perfectly suited for Jordin's big notes. A disaster for Blake.

And perhaps most importantly...

4. She cried at the end of her song. She played the victor before any votes were even cast. (The equivalent of being crowned Miss America before the swimsuit competition.) This was a brilliant stroke on Jordin's part. She conditioned us all to see her as the inevitable winner before we even began dialing or texting.

It's a strategy that Melinda tried back in mid-March, weeping along with Paula at the end of her performance, prompting Simon to ask "why are you crying?" At the time I criticized Melinda strongly. I felt that the audience needed to be warned against a strategy clearly intended to circumvent the rest of the competition. Readers were furious with me, but I stand by what I wrote then. Melinda's chief miscalculation was that she played the winner, deployed these tactics, too early. Once the crying and the "Who, me?" surprise looks were called out by Simon, Melinda had to drop both - and the audience then decided she was boring.

Jordin's perfectly calibrated strategy will pay off. She played the winner - and shed the tears - just at the right moment.

As for Blake, the constant plaudits from the judges for his "creativity" never moved me. Isn't that what teachers and guidance counselors often say about special ed kids or troublemakers? "Ryan faces many challenges, but he's got such 'creativity.'"

American Idol is an institution in crisis. Ratings are down and the base is dispirited after a season that saw the integrity of the show threatened by VFTW and the ascendancy of Sanjaya.

Whom will the voters entrust to right the Idol ship and restore glory to the enterprise? Blake or Jordin?

UPDATE: Here's my take on who will be the next 'Idol' along with a commentary on Paula's dog and Phil Stacey and Chris Richardson's break with AI protocol.

And please take my "Mo Wants To Know" poll about deaf actress Marlee Matlin at last night's Idol.

(Don't forget to take my poll on Elliott's new teeth and Kellie's new breasts. Click here!)

Analysts will rush to explain why Melinda's bid to be our next American Idol faltered tonight. But the dust needs to settle before we truly understand what went wrong.

Was it her age?

Was it what many called her fake surprise look from earlier in the season?

Was it her neck - or what some uncharitably called her lack of a neck? (Her purported necklessness was never verified by medical professionals. Her haircut in fact may have been to blame for a simple misperception.)

OR ... Was it her polish? Was Melinda too classy for America?

As evidenced by the videotaped homecoming, Melinda was indeed the most poised - and this may have been a liability in an America that demands that we let it all hang out.



Jordin wept throughout her homecoming as if she'd just returned from a POW camp. (The way she clutched her best friend Bailey, you'd think the two were sisters reunited after, say, the fall of the Berlin Wall.) Blake's homecoming was equally showy. His father, clearly an emotional dependent, cried that he'd lost his own parents as a boy; that Blake's success was some consolation for his own hardship.

Melinda was more self-possessed, dignified. She teared up, yes, but she kept it together, thanking her friends from Belmont. They thanked her for all she'd done. (Charity work? We don't know. Melinda's not the type to boast.) We've known for some time that Melinda's close to her mother. She's never mentioned her father. And yet her dad Steve was included (awkwardly) in several shots, Melinda putting the best face on what is likely a very uncomfortable situation. That's what modest, discreet people do.

And for this the American people punished her.

***

Other things I noticed:

Jordin's high school is Sandra Day O'Connor HS. Ironic since O'Connor was the critical swing vote in the Supreme Court's deliberations on abortion over the last 20 years. Now Jordin is in danger of being engulfed by the issue.

As much as I like Elliott Yamin - I endorsed his AI bid last year - I don't like his new teeth. But I don't mind the whole look. Almost a young Bob Dylan. Elliott is personally unassailable, as far as I'm concerned. Pure goodness.

Jerry Falwell had an opinion on everything. Surely he favored one AI semifinalist over the others, and talent likely had little to do with his decision. To review:

Jordin Sparks, 17, is a Christian with pro-life sympathies. (She participated in an anti-abortion rally in 2005.) She is from Arizona, a generally red state with a more Western conservative libertarian bent. She is the product of an African-American former pro football father and caucasian mother.

Melinda Doolittle, 29, is an African-American Christian from Tennessee, a bible belt red state. She is less politically active than Jordin. She said she would first thank Jesus and her mommy if she won the competition. She once sang backup for the controversial Christian singer - and former AI finalist - Mandisa.

Blake Lewis, 25, is a beat-boxer from Washington State - a state that has not gone Republican in a presidential election since 1984. It also has the lowest rate of church attendance in America. Lewis' religion (or religiosity) is unknown. He is of Welsh, German and Irish descent - presumably Christian, perhaps Catholic. He is a white male.

I have long been resistant to Melinda's charms - the hackneyed narrative of the backup singer who just wants a shot in the spotlight. I was an early critic of her fake surprised look whenever the judges complimented her. (Weeks later I was vindicated when Simon himself criticized her for this.) And I thought she seemed like a throwback - an Idol for yesteryear, destined at best to sing a jingle for rolaids or polident.

I hungered for a forward-looking Idol.

But last night something clicked with me. It began with the shots of her lovely grandparents. I happen to be a big fan of grandparents in general. Relationships between grandparents and their grandchildren are less complicated, fraught than parental relationships. My grandmothers, for instance, gave me pure unfiltered affection. I had nothing but warm feelings for them and admiration.



These days grandparents are assuming greater financial responsibilities for their grandchildren in light of increasing financial stress on a still increasing number of single-parent households. So grandparents are more valued than ever. Plus they're a link with the past. And that's comforting.

Seeing Melinda's grandparents beaming with pride, I began to see Melinda's connection to the past as a strength, an anchor in these unsteady times.

And maybe, too, her advanced age and experience will give her the emotional maturity and mettle she needs to serve as our American Idol. Make no mistake: the show faces tough times. (Already the ratings have been rocked.) The next American Idol needs to demonstrate leadership and make difficult decisions.

For her third selection, Melinda sang I'm A Woman and her whole journey came full circle. She ended the song alongside her own back-up singers. It was a brilliant image: Melinda, the former backup singer, returning to the mothership - receiving the blessing of her former doowop-ers.

As for the song she sang, the message was clear: I'm a Woman, not a Girl. I'm ready to lead.

***

I still like Jordin. I think she's magic on stage. And it's clear from the reaction shots of her very intense Dad that there'll be hell to pay if she loses. But she hasn't recaptured the glory of "You'll Never Walk Alone" from a few weeks back.

As for Blake, he should have sung I Like Big Butts. The clip of him with Sir Mixalot was more entertaining than what he did on stage.

I already feel guilty about LaKisha.



I knew that LaKisha was raw, unpolished in the best way. But until tonight I hadn't focused on her deep soulfulness - a quality none of the remaining three has. In the video package about her childhood, she wasn't just cute. She wasn't just touching. She wasn't just funny. She was all those things. She spoke about her mother and her grandmother and her "nappy fro" and how she was disciplined for talking too much as a child.

Then, as the death sentence was read, came her video obit. The dissolve transition from her initial audition of "I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" to her later performance of that same song was beautifully done. But it was her blunt admission that "other people have more confidence in Kisha than I have" that struck me. It was honest, almost wounded, but not in the least way pathetic.

I'm not sure that Barry Gibb did much for AI's slightly sagging ratings. He seemed perfectly nice, though not terribly animated. He also had a peculiar speech impediment, as if there was too much spittle building up in the sides of his mouth, and he was locking his jaw in an effort to control it. ("This" turned into "Thish"; "Sparks" turned into "Shparks") One explanation could be corroded saliva ducts. I went to college with an heiress with the same malady.

The wisdom of the judges was dispensed surprisingly equally - ie, it's usually Simon who makes most of the meaningful comments. Not this time.

Randy nailed it when he told Beat Box Blake that his "You Should Be Dancing" sounded like he was in a "discoteque in a foreign country." Brilliant - and it sums up Blake completely.



I once spent a night in a disco in Jakarta, Indonesia. (I was touring in a production of the musical "Grease.") Tanamore was the name of this fleshpot. Dark and mysterious, the room was crisscrossed with catwalks, across which tiny-footed hustlers and hookers minced - indentured sex slaves kept on short leashes by their menacing pimp. (Think Oddjob, the thug from Goldfinger.) Paunchy European ex-pats prowled, skulked around, brandishing mai tais, their pockets bulging with rupiah to pay for their fun. The Abba music blared, more cover for the unholy purchases being consummated. Even the smoke emanating from machines seemed diabolical, insidiously curling around every pole and cage grating.

The whole place pulsated with a sick energy. All you could see were the big blinking eyes of the underage Asian sex workers. All you could feel were the cold sweaty gropes of aging Europeans. The place was sheer evil ... and perfect for Blake.

I've never trusted Blake. From the beginning his beat boxing seemed like a cheap ploy, the Morrissey sound second-rate mod, the "seductive" grin on his face barely rising to the level of bad porn. Then came his interview with People magazine where he complained about being "sexually frustrated" and where he said with a sleazy wink, "A tour could be fun" - a transparent call for tweenaged groupies.

Seeing Blake last night in his Nehru jacket, I saw an aspiring Kurtz-like cult leader. He doesn't want to be an American Idol. He'd be much happier as the Idol of his own jungle kingdom (Laos?), ruling over an army of the young and defenseless, far beyond the reach of American law and values. Sound the Amber Alert now. Blake's on the loose.

(Oh, and might I add that "This is Where I Came In," his second selection, is not only a crappy song. It's got the clunkiest title ever.)

Before tonight I'd grown weary of the American Idol death ritual: the Video Obit of the "journey" beginning with the contestant looking pallid and pimply (i.e., pre-makeover), singing a capella at the first audition... Simon looking pensive, maybe saying something cryptic before announcing "Welcome to Hollywood" ... then a tedious sequence of celebrity mentor hugs. (J. Lo really put on her best big sister act with all the embracing. Tony Bennett, not surprisingly, came off the most genuinely, with a dignified handshake for the men, hug for the women.)

All set to the overwrought "I'm Going Home." (The cruelest joke that could be played on me posthumously would be playing that song at my funeral. I'm amending my will to stipulate that there will be no Chris Daughtry music at my memorial.)

The group hug at the end of the song that the terminated contestant is forced to reprise is equally cloying, along with the declarations of lifelong friendship among the survivors. Give me a break. After this summer's tour, they'll all be at each other's throats. Chris and Blake will be battling over the same tween groupies. Chris Sligh will reconnect with his Bob Jones fundamentalist past and start relentlessly proselytizing, determined to "save" Sanjaya. A desperate Haley Scarnato will try to sleep with Clive Davis. And the constant crying of LaKisha's baby Brionne on the tour bus will only ratchet up the stress. (Will AI provide an au pair for Brionne? LaKisha should start lobbying now.)

Tonight's AI was teeming with surprises:

It started with the appearance in the audience of AI erotica star Antonella Barba. For those of you with short memories, Barba was voted off the show weeks after racy photos of her surfaced on the internet. Interesting factoid: some of the pix were taken at the fountain of DC's National World War II memorial, with Barba in a wet t-shirt. I've always wanted to ask Barba why she chose that monument. Was this her tribute to the Greatest Generation? Or was it a protest against what is undoubtedly the National Mall's ugliest monument?

Gina Glocksen, the season's "resident rocker" (an annoying label) was in the audience, though that was predictable.

LaKisha's performance of "This Ain't A Love Song" was a pleasant surprise, though I'm not sure it warranted a kiss from Simon. (If this were May it would have been Paula who kissed LaKisha. Lesbian kisses are a TV Sweeps Season staple.) I'm always glad when LaKisha has family in the audience. She needs all the support she can get. This time it was "LaKisha's Cousins."

I am bereft. I am in Columbia, SC's airport. (Consolation: Free internet access!) But I was unable to watch Idol last night. I've had to make do with YouTube clips. Is this how the kids watch Idol?

Thank goodness Sanjaya's performance of "Cheek to Cheek" was posted. Once again Sanjaya was shrewd - brilliant! - in selecting his song. "Heaven, I'm in Heaven," the song begins. We don't know if Sanjaya is a practicing Hindu. But it should be noted that heaven is not a focal point in Hinduism - just a temporary state known as swarga loka - in the reincarnation cycle. (Ooh, I do love the idea of a reincarnated Sanjaya coming back to perform in American Idol season 112 - getting sneered at by Simon's wickedly mean great-granddaughter. Of course by that point the show will be broadcast from Bangalore and the dark horse contestant will be an immigrant from Alabama.) In any case, Sanjaya's homage to "Heaven" was a calculated reassurance to Christian voters that he respects their theology.

On a less spiritual plane, it's worth remembering that the magnificent and notoriously grumpy Irving Berlin (composer of "Cheek to Cheek" for the 1935 movie musical "Top Hat") called Fred Astaire, who originally sang the song, his favorite singer. Astaire was not a singer. Like Sanjaya he had a thin, quavering voice. But he felt the lyrics. He had heart. And heart is Sanjaya's selling point.

(Photos: Fox/AP)