Sort the coinage
No sense in rushing towards a change of seasons around here. I mean, even if this is the closest we’ve had to May in March since I moved to the city, and even if the law now permits changing the winter tires out for something less cumbersome, this is the great white North. By lunch time, the ground was covered; by quitting time, I wished for my mitts.
But let’s not dwell on weather, for it too will change. Rather, let’s sit back with an unread issue of Atlantic Monthly, a bowl of grapes to entice the house hound and the weekly love-hate concert from the hopefuls on American Idol. We’re into the crunch (or so Simon says). This week, the field will be reduced to the ten who will actually be in the money. You know, tour bait.
The names aren’t familiar yet; I’m running on facial recognition. Still, the pack is being separated out, much like a bag of assorted coinage running through a sort sieve. Right now, the pennies are outnumbering the silver dollars.
My guess on the “long lasting” candidates goes to Michael Lynche and Crystal Bowersox. Older, wiser, better at what they do. Give them a song and you’ll get a first class performance. Katie Stevens has my vote for Miss Congeniality (a necessary title in a competition that forgets the music part too often). As for the rest of the crew, suffice to say that Randy was openly critical.
Odd mix of repertoire and mentor this evening: take the Billboard charts and Miley Cyrus, shake (don’t stir) and see who can get sent home before the tour bus fills up. All in a week’s work.
