Australian Idol Recrap (Motown & results) and the ARIAs: A Review
Well well well. I know this is later than usual, but hey; suck it. At least I get off my (metaphorical) arse and write a meaningless post about a reality television show every now and then – what do you do? Huh? Oh, you have a legitimate job? Oh, I see.
So, we had excellent performances by Wes, Chrislyn, and Mark. We had poor ones by Sophie – god, that moany voice shits me – Teale and Roshani, as well as an ok one by Luke.
Wes did some Carpenter song. That Jesus hair of his was really underlined by the song choice. Chrislyn did a song called Get Ready. She said Get Ready a lot. It was good. A return to form. Sophie did Papa Was A Rolling Stone, which was an incredibly poor song choice (as evidenced by the results). Mark did umm. What was it? Oh, I forget. It was pretty good though. Teale did Ain’t No Mountain and was bland and corny. He’s like corn on the cob. Tough to get your head around. Unless you cut him in half and poke forks in him. Which I’d like to do. Aaanyway. Moving right along. Oh and cover him in melty butter. And… mm. Roshani was very meh, whereas Luke showed some of that shady shit (yobbo-to-cityfolk translation: light and shade in his voice).
I actually missed the results show, but I have it on good knowledge that Sophie’s red-faced ass received the big ole boot. Good riddance!
Oh, and then there was the ARIAs. Australian music’s night of nights. Ha! With guests as diverse and interesting as Pink and Gabriella Kill-me (credit to my lovely, beautiful girlfriend for that one) how could this be anything less than awesome?
Well, my expectations were shattered. The ARIAs were a pile of piss, and not even Hamish (& Andy) could save them. I was a little disappointed that Blandy didn’t injure himself when falling through that fake floor, to be honest.
The Veronicas were dull, Sam Sparro’s cape was a blatant MGMT rip-off, Cilmi won 6 ARIAs, and The Living End won for best Rock in a field that can only be described as arse-fuckingly pitiful. Oh, and who is this Cilmi girl? I’m being 100% honest when I say that I’d never heard of her until seeing an ad for the ARIAs. Axle Whitehead showed up with Jabba and refrained from exposing his genitals, sadly. I doubt even that would have made the night interesting in any way whatsoever at all.
Sure, the MTV Music Awards and the Grammys aren’t heaps better… but they are better. And that’s saying something. Lift your fucking game, ARIA awards. I could have put on a more entertaining show from my garden shed. At least in that version there’d be a chance of seeing some scrotum.