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Rock Star INXS: Like Shooting Fish in a Barrel of Monkeys
I had, until the last few weeks, succesfully avoided the arena of TV reality shows, mainly due to a long held belief that one cannot be stranded on a desert island with a camera crew. Call me a nitpicker, but that's how I felt. I succumbed, almost accidentally when, while channel surfing I happened upon an episode of 'Beauty and the Geek'. If the powers that be don't give that guy Richard his own talk show, then they don't deserve their powers. Not that they do to begin with, but you know what I mean.
Of course I was appalled, at first, by the concept of Rock Star INXS; that something as enobling to me as singing in a rock band, even a has been rock band like INXS, could be grist for the reality show mill, taking one of the last few noble professions and turning it into a cattle call crapshoot complete with the suddenly bimbonic Dave Navarro. Somewhere Perry Farrel is adjusting his Xmas card list, y'know. I was therefore prepared to completely rip the show apart in this space under the title Rock Star INXS: Do You Really Have to Ask? Not much had occurred on the show to change my mind, but yes, a little has.
Let it be said for the record that Dave Navarro has crossed over to the enemy once and for all and that most if the contestants are basically American Idol lemmings with poorer grooming habits than the usual AI freeze dried Whitney wannabe's, but there have been moments that, if not exactly heart warming, at least cut through the chill with more precision than, say, Pink Floyd at Live 8 (and no, I shan't be cutting the Floyds any slack anytime soon) or the last 4 or 5 Lou Reed records. I'm especially enjoying JD's slow self-immolation as he tries desperatley to walk tyhe tightrope/razor's edge between having that ol' devil may care rock and roll attitude and, well, being an asshole (every reality show needs, or rather creates, an asshole, it seems). So far he's falling on the assholic side of things, but since when did that prevent ANYONE from becoming a 'rockstar'? Case in point: Jim Morrison, as big an idiot as ever pissed all over a hotel hallway, yet still lionized to this day by folks who really ought to know better.
The women on the show are, of course, comely and fraught with attitude, although the butterfly tattooed Heather is scary on SO many levels it's hard to know where to start. Her version of 'Burning Down the House' sounded like James Brown at 78 rpm being fed through a gravel crusher and then set on fire - and not in a good way. I can't begin to describe the awfullness of last night's turn on 'Rock the Casbah' by Dana (or whatever her name is), all dressed up like the Bride of Frankenstein after a bender at Victoria's Secret; shooting the chorus out of the Whitney cannon while nursery rhming the verses to sleep, if not death. Then there's the folky waifgirl and the Blooze Mama, who's names and personalities escape me at the moment. That's the crux of RSINX's problem, no personalities. Lots of photo op crop like Ty's mohawk (Corey Glover, call yr office). And Mig's (the probable winner of this crapshoot, emphasis on crap) sculpted body, but precious little heart and soul being offered from the stage.
The good things about Rock Star INXS? Well, for one there's the House Band, an amazingly versatile and competent group of musicians who have yet to receive near the recognition they deserve. I'd like to hear more of them and less of Navaroo and the INXSer's lame ass comments regarding every performance. And JD's version of 'One Hand in my Pocket' was as rock and roll as anything I've heard lately. The boy's just itchy and twitchy enough to merit attention but he then has to ruin it (and his chance of getting laid backstage, let alone WINNING this thing) with his lame remark about how he loves INXS songs and the other contestants are just learning them etc. etc. Following that performance with a version of 'We Are the Champions' that out and out sucked (and not in a good way, like Green Day's version) and then blaming his poor performance on the fact that his long lost sister showed up etc etc, put the final nails in the poor guy's coffin and ultimately snuffed out my interest in the show.
If these are the champions, then Ian Hunte was right and rock and roll really is a loser's game.
More's the pity.
