|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
May 24, 2009Thank you, oh meter-outer of justice,for Adam Lambert’s “loss” on American Idol.PHEW! THAT WAS CLOSE.Adam, did you have to make such a great big stink and challenge the play-it-safe m.o. of American Idol and American culture by being so outrageously, undeniably good you had to make it into the finale? Had you not been there at all, no one would have questioned the rise of the ultimate mediocrity to the top, because the lesser mediocrities would have been eliminated and left the winner to look exceptional. At 6’1″ you towered not only physically over anyone daring to occupy the same stage, but so superior in talent that some had to throw a bushel over your light, or an embarrassed veil over themselves. Is not American Idol about the triumph of the ordinary? People want to imagine themselves in the top spot. I can do it! I don’t really have anything exceptional to offer, but maybe I can still make it, like Kris Allen. ADAM, YOU THREW THE MONKEY WRENCHinto American Idol culture: you were yourself–an audacious, charismatic, enigmatic, sexually-charged, larger-than-life, unapologetic whole human being showing yourself off to the world—hey, World, I am different, and I am glorious! I am who I am, and I know who I am! (And guess what—you don’t know who you are, really). “Like it or not,” as Gavin Newsom once stupidly put it, I am in your face! And if “they” don’t like it, who the hell cares? Adam, as Paula Abdul forecast, will be “iconic.” And “winner” Kris Allen knows it. As my 70-year-old friend put it, Adam is “beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” while Kris is “common, common, common.” A talented coffee shop singer, Kris was the “safe” choice, exhibiting all the known quantities. I’m not going to force you to examine your values and beliefs, I’m not going to challenge you to reach deep into yourself and display your secret sex to the world. Hey world, stick with me and I won’t steer you wrong, or ask too much. After all, I am terrified of Adam myself. BUT LOOK AT THIS,says Adam, rotating his hips, this is raw pulsing unadorned sex. No apologies. With Adam comes danger, uncertainty, temptation, bravado, confront-your-own-sexuality challenge and domination. This is my dick in your face, deal with it! Goddammit, I am going to be who I am, and revel in it until your own paltry dicks shrivel into some kind of anemic hors d’oeuvre. Adam, PLEASE bring raw sexuality back into the mainstream of America’s veins. Please bring us sex and more sex! We need you! We need your sex like we need our daily bread, only more so. We need joy and desire and excitement and hope and regular old pleasure. Bring it forth, please. Adam is so much bigger than American Idol can contain, it would have been ironic and questionable if he HAD won. The guy is June bustin’ out all over. On the studio single of the Led Zepelin song, “Whole Lotta Love,” he remains true to the lyrics, “Shake it baby, I want to be your back door man.” OK, my sweet—when and where? I don’t know who, man or woman, can hear him wail, “I’m gonna give you every inch of my love” and remain unfazed. Time and place, my sweet. Jesus Christ, thank you for the jump start. We need Adam! We need him and we need his sex! “Way down inside—woman!—you need luh-uh-uh-uh-uh uh-oooooooooooooooove!” He knows it, and we know it. Mister, you are made of sex, and you present it in a way anyone can understand. Whatever ilk you are of, this guy has got something for you. IT ALL COMES DOWN TO MATHand here is a simple equation explaining Kris Allen’s win. Adam = sex. Adam wears sex like a leopard wears spots. I’ve always maintained that America’s fear of homosexuality boils down to a fear of freedom and sex. Maybe some conservative Christians can’t work their minds around the concept of having sex only for pleasure, not procreation. If no children are being made, what are those guys doing together? Just plain getting off on each other. Whoa! We can’t have that! (If they can have sex for pleasure, what’s stopping me?) ADAM’S HORNY AND LASCIVIOUS VIDEOof “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” in which he is just dying for the satisfaction he can’t get and is just trying to get it, features a shot of the other Idol contestants cheering him on but obviously beside themselves, unable to process this raw flame of desire and jealous over their own lack of it. You can all go to hell! Drop out of the tour! No one wants to waste time over you when Adam is lurking backstage! Someone once told me of a high school student who dropped out because she was pregnant, who after she had the child came back to school with her baby, and her classmates, who all had romanticized, hygienic, fantasy-poisoned views of sex, were cut down and blown away by the real thing. Hey man, this woman has been fucked and borne the consequences! What high-schooler would not be intimidated by the reality of sex and physicality? So it is with Adam. In your face. WINNING AMERICAN IDOL IS NOT THE PRIZE.Americans are predominately idiots. How else do you explain two semesters of Bush/Cheney? Kris Allen himself is sheepish about his win. He knows he is milquetoast compared to Adam and feels guilty and undeserving; I am embarrassed for him. He knows his vote was born of ideology as much as musicality, and that he appealed to a demographic that doesn’t reward exceptional individuality. Days after the finale, Adam has had offers from both Queen and Kiss to tour with them. Not too shabby. I admire and respect Queen guitarist Brian May like nobody’s business. He is a smokin’ smokin’ guitarist, perpetrator of my favorite guitar lick of all time, at the end of “We Will Rock You,” and, no less, a Ph.D. in astrophysics, chancellor of John Moores University with a dissertation, “A Survey of Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud,” and he wants to court Adam to be their frontman. WOW! It doesn’t get any better. The truth is, Adam has the luxury to decide where he wants to go, what he wants to do. Everybody is going to want a piece of this guy. He is out of our control. We can’t check in every Tuesday at 8:00 and marvel at his offerings, he is out there in the ether shooting off sparks, on his own, and we can only catch a glimpse of him, here, there. ADAM LAMBERT, I WANT TO LOOK YOU UP AND DOWNand tell you, you are the most exciting, most engaging, compelling, talented, sexually shrewd artist and superstar I’ve been exposed to in half a century, and I can’t wait for rest of your life—even though, in the course of it, I will die. You are the hottest of the hot and the coolest of the cool. You are exactly half my age. So? Only to say, your appeal is universal—you are the real thing, hot dog! I know an exceptional person and performer when I see one, and I want to watch your star rise and cheer you on forever. Rock on, my fabulous, exotic bird of paradise! WOW!The author is full of shit! Watch for the next Ax Files for her own rebuttal to this drunken, over-the-top rant! ------------------------------------------------------------ Sing me a way to love you
What is more beautiful than a beautiful man? copyright Alexandra Jones 2009 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
