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.'"

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'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'm going on Fox TV's "Mike and Juliet Show" this morning to discuss Idol. Here's what I'm thinking right now:

The contestants are getting desperate.

Chris Richardson's post-performance tantrum about how he really meant to sing "nasal" was embarrassing - and his invoking the tragedy at Virginia Tech was inappropriate. Yes, the camera caught Simon rolling his eyes at Chris. Although Simon clearly was not rolling his eyes at the tragedy, this could prove to be a costly camera move. The producers obviously swept in for damage control and asked Simon to express his own sorrow later in the show. It was an awkward moment.

LaKisha's latest mention about how difficult life is raising Brionne as a single mom is pushing it. I have always been a LaKisha fan and when Martina McBride lavished praise on her, I was excited. Unfortunately, when Jesus took the wheel this time, the car careened out of control. (Worse than Eddie Griffin in that Ferrari.)

As for Sanjaya, the Willie Nelson/Isaac Mizrahi doo-rag was a disappointment. It was a stunt and a shameless pander to the VFTW/Howard Stern crowd. Last week Sanjaya made a valiant and successful attempt to sing well. He was headed toward a coup, bucking the cynics who scoffed at him. Now we're not sure who Sanjaya is: Is he the guy who really wants to be an American Idol and prove himself? Or is he the jaded jokester, willing to debase himself to stay in this competition? Is he Mario Lopez ... or is he Dustin Diamond?

I feel vindicated now that Simon has called Melinda on her "Who, me?" shy act.

I'm a huge fan of Martina McBride's and look forward to her performance tonight. I expect we'll all have shpilkes in our geneckteckessoink. (Until last night Kinky Friedman was the only country singer to use the word "verklempt.")

UPDATE: I just returned from the Fox "Mike and Juliet" Idol panel. It included Season Three's Jasmine Trias (very charming) and Food Network's Paula Deen (very "country"). Outside the studio Paula wore a floor-length fur coat. Raccoon? (Presumably she spit roasted whatever animal she killed for that thing.) Jasmine was surprisingly outspoken on the subject of ethnocentric American Idol voting. She asserts that she went as far as she did by galvanizing the Polynesian vote. I pointed out that she was the only thing residents of Guam and American Samoans (two groups which historically have hated each other) could both agree to like.

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)

This morning I rushed into my office minutes before an emergency conference call. (A shipment due to arrive in Ft. Wayne was re-routed through Indianapolis for no known reason.) As I swept past my secretary Peggy, I thought I heard her sigh, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Curious, I thought, but I had no time to respond. Once the call ended (one of our reps drove out to Indy for the pickup), Peggy came in to bring me my coffee.

"What did you mean by "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Peggy?"
"What do you think?" she countered. "I think Randy Jackson muffed the whole thing up."

An intriguing theory. Peggy's point:

American Idol is a delicate balance - a formula that's worked brilliantly since its beginning. Simon is acerbic, tough and no nonsense. Paula is the wacky mom with a heart of gold. (Simon and Paula are the comic relief, too. The sparring "lovers.") But Randy's role has always been crucial. He's sometimes been characterized as neutral or simply repeating Simon's criticisms in blander terms. Wrong. He has been the all-important straight man, but he's also been the supportive friend - not unconditionally loving like Paula, but constructive. An optimist who realistically looks for the best in each performer. (It's why historically Ryan asks Randy for "advice" for faltering contestants.) For many Americans, he's the point of identification on the panel.

But this season Randy chose to reinvent himself as Simon 2.0. At no point was the new Randy more wincingly mean than after Sanjaya's performance of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." He was more than mean. He was contemptuous. He called the song "unlistenable" and laughed at Sanjaya, then sneered about his hair. Rather than defend Sanjaya, he stoked the crowd to mock him further.

(Randy should have taken a cue from Diana Ross, a legend who surmounted unparalled hurdles as an African-American. In the video intro, it was clear that Ross could sympathize with the special pressures faced by Sanjaya, AI's first Indian-American finalist.)

Peggy is convinced that the backlash that has now brought AI to the brink began at that moment. Sanjaya was defenseless before the mob.

"I half expected the crowd to yell 'We want Barabbas!'" said Peggy. "And Randy was weaker than Pontius Pilate."

Do you hear that creaking sound? I do. It's more like a low rumbling. It's the sound of an Empire collapsing.


60 years after Mohandas Gandhi's civil disobedience movement led to the end of British rule in India, the gentle Sanjaya is just as peacefully (if less than tunefully) bringing Viceroy Simon to heel.

American Idol is an institution built on an ideal: the most talented singer wins. In the end, all it has is its credibility. That's been crippled now, perhaps beyond all repair. And once the tipping point is reached (one week from now? Two?), HMS Idol will sink fast.

I've written extensively about the stunning parallels between Gandhi and Sanjaya. (Of course their hair is a contrast, though Sanjaya has at least one more week to debut a chrome dome. This I would not advise. Sanjaya's eyes are too closely set to pull off a bald look.)