Save (Me From) The Music
VH1's annual Divas Live concert was started in 1998 to fund the cable channel's Save The Music foundation, which serves to put music back into public school systems that cut arts education.
The show that started with an impressive lineup of the "who's who?" in female singers, has now turned into a "who's that?" gathering of the B and C-level performers. If it weren't a charity event, I wouldn't be so harsh on it. But the truth is, it's time VH1 hang its crusty crown on its Divas Live series.
What was Tom Jones doing there? He rose from the stage to sing some boring song, looking like he had just shtooped one of the Pussycat Dolls backstage. Cool guy, that Tom Jones. Way to be.
Jessica Simpson sang like she had peanut butter in her gums, while Patti LaBelle was only able to make an entrance poised on a hydraulic lift. Talk about divas. And God help Debbie Harry (of Blondie); she could be a starter for the Chargers. Get that woman-beast a bone to gnaw on.
The most deplorable performance of the evening was Simpson singing a cover of the '80s "Top Gun" anthem, "Take My Breath Away." If she sings "oh yhhhhhhheeaaa" after each word one more time, I'm gonna have to vomit in a bag and send it to her with a Post-It attached, reading: "You took my breath away, Jessica. Here's the result."
Even Omarosa, Amy and Heidi from "The Apprentice" made an appearance. They were the only non-singers whose appearances made sense, as they've all had their catty moments on the Donald Trump ratings bonanza. Amy and Heidi clearly H-A-T-E Omarosa, and Omarosa clearly wanted to bite their heads off. At the rate she's going, she's going to replace Whitney Houston as the next "crack is whack" publicity she-monster.
Hopefully VH1 has already bought their way through the list of singers desperate enough to book this awful show. A note for whoever's in charge of development: stop dragging out makeshift "divas" who don't like the idea of sharing the stage and can't even sing anyway! Stop it now!
Fantasia: 2004
Is it me or have all the really good singers on American Idol been black? I don't know if this pattern is anything more than just a coincidence, but I'm fairly certain there's a trend here. The top four singers, in my (and I gather most people's) opinion, are Fantasia Barrino, George Huff, Latoya London and Jennifer Hudson.
Huff can sing circles around recent-reject Jon Peter Lewis (JPL, as he's known to the ladies), as well as East Amherst-native John Stevens. I don't know what Stevens is doing there anymore. He's obviously got a nice voice to belt out a few Frank and Sammy numbers at his grandparents' birthday party or a family picnic. But for the big-time, Stevens doesn't have a shot.
Huff's soulful pipes are a warm cross between Smokey Robinson and Luther Vandross. And he's infinitely more exiting than last year's winner, Ruben Studdard.
Barrino and Hudson, the two most passionate performers, are equally powerful and marketable. I see the final two coming down to these two fine ladies. Then there's London. As good as London is, and as much as she has impressed the judges (she was one of the first to jump out and really shine), she's not very personable. She looks like a very sweet woman, but I don't see her being the next Aretha like I do Hudson or Barrino.
My mom thinks it's racist to think that only the black people can sing - that somehow I'm not seeing their talent for their skill, only their skin color. It has nothing to do with their race, rather it has a lot to do with the fact that these four powerhouses all grew up in church, where music and prayer go hand in hand.
It was reassuring last week when Lewis was booted off. He's never been a strong singer, he dances like a leprechaun and when he sings he looks like he's gonna have an asthma attack and keel over.
A note to JPL: stop your rocking and your rolling! Stop it now!
'Practice' Makes Imperfect
I used to love "The Practice." It was one of those law dramas that knew it was a television show, and therefore didn't care about being real. It was outlandish, outrageous and totally unpredictable. It was great.
Executive producer and creator David E. Kelley, whose r?(c)sum?(c) includes the once-funny law dramedy "Ally McBeal," pulled a television coup at the end of last season when he fired most of the "Practice's" cast and re-tooled the plot lines. This season's saving grace was film weirdo James Spader ("Wolf," "Secretary") as Alan Shore, a new lawyer employed by the firm.
While most of this season's stories were far from normal (a man wanted to sue the federal government for allegedly implanting a tracking device in his buttocks; a childhood friend of Shore's claimed he didn't kill his mistress, then after a two-month trial - in television time - he confessed to his best bud in a tree-house), they were hardly off-kilter for the aging show.
But as much as I missed last season's Emmy Award-winning ensemble and writing, I still loved this year's exploited reincarnation. Maybe in 10 years someone will remember the show for its hijinks and hilarities, not its topsy-turvy ratings.
A note to ABC, the network that can't afford to lose any more familiar hits: stop canceling great shows! Stop it now!
Blue Light Special, Aisle 13
The tragic events of the Columbine High School shootings have reached their five-year anniversary this week. Surely, no one can forget the horrifying news in 1999 that two angered students terrorized their schoolmates and teachers, killing 12 and leaving many survivors with haunting memories.
One of last year's most gripping films, Gus Van Sant's "Elephant" tells an unfortunately familiar story eerily similar to that of Columbine High School's. The long-awaited DVD of the film arrives in stores on May 5. Van Sant took home top Cannes Film Festival prizes for the mostly improvised drama. Rent or buy this film, as it's guaranteed to shock, horror, amaze and enlighten anyone who watches - as it should.
This may be unnecessary to point out, but to all of those who think guns should be made available on the Internet and at Kmart, stop it. Stop it now.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
