Review of The first show at Glendale Arizona!

Review Of The Show.

Talk about fixing what was broken. In previous outings, the annual American Idol tour featured the season’s top 10 contestants performing a large amount of group numbers. Anyone who has ever watched the TV show can attest to a simple fact: The group numbers suck. Every year, there are a few contestants who display no noticeable dancing ability. Others can’t harmonize to save their lives. It doesn’t help that the group numbers feature the kind of imaginative choreography that you usually find on Brady Bunch reruns.

This year, the tour producers made the wise move of eliminating virtually all group numbers. There were only two spots featuring the ensemble during the tour’s opening night on Tuesday at Jobing.com Arena. Winner David Cook did a five-song set; runner-up David Archuleta got four tunes and the remaining cast members each got three. That meant the show moved along at a fairly lively pace and some performers got to display more personality than they showed on screen. The show ran nearly two-and-a-half hours (with an intermission), but felt shorter.

The concert worked like a countdown, with the No. 10 ranked finalist going first. Good thing it was one-named Chikezie, who worked the large stage like a pro. He benefited from the format, opening with a growling rendition of Donny Hathaway’s “I Believe to My Soul.” It was the perfect way to start the night, as he quickly sailed through Usher’s “Caught Up” and a terrific version of John Legend’s “So High” that showcased an awesome falsetto.

Unfortunately, the occasional weakness of the show’s structure was evident once finalist No. 9 entered. Ramiele Malubay was dressed like an exile from a Michael Jackson video, as she sported black patent leather boots, tight black pants and black wrist cuffs. It was oddly appropriate, because she sang the Jackson 5’s “I Want You Back” in bland karaoke fashion. She attempted some choreographed steps with two backing singers, but never appeared entirely comfortable. She also tended to move away from the mike while singing, which didn’t help her voice project through the crowded arena. If Chikezie was like a partygoer who leaves too soon; Ramiele was a dinner guest who won’t depart until two hours after dessert is served.

Fortunately, most of the Idols had more to offer. Aussie Michael Johns came off as capable but bland, with a fondness for arena–rock clichés – did he have to pump his fist in the air so much? Still, the audience loved him. Kristy Lee Cook, who didn’t make much of an impression on TV, thrived in concert, as she offered a sassy, hip-wriggling presentation that would go over big with a Nashville crowd. She repeated her Idol trademark of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” and dedicated it to any veterans in the house. Considering the huge number of adolescents in the arena, one guesses that veterans made up a very small part of the crowd.

Tattooed Carly Smithson opened with a loud and powerful take on Evanescence's “Bring Me to Life.” She is prettier than she appears on TV, and smaller, too. However, one imagines her lungs must take up a good portion of her body due to the sheer power she displayed. She closed with a killer version of the Cyndi Lauper favorite “I Drove All Night” that chugged along at a hypnotic pace.

The big news for the Valley was the return of Phoenix native Brooke White, who finished fifth on the show. The audience roared its approval and greeted her with a standing ovation. Sitting barefoot at the piano, she earned the honors with a soulful “Let It Be” that inspired goose bumps. White looked gorgeous and her personality was infectious: “It’s good to be home!” she enthused, and you could tell that she meant it. She picked up the guitar for Feist's whimsical "1, 2, 3, 4," then closed with a glowing (no pun intended) version of Coldplay’s “Yellow.” She may never become a huge star, but White’s joyful integrity and musical smarts should guarantee her a solid career in the Melissa Manchester/Carole King mode.

After an intermission, dreadlocked Jason Castro charmed his way through a ukulele-driven “Over the Rainbow,” an inspired interpretation of Gnarls Barkley's “Crazy” and the hazy mellowness of “Daydream.” He is so unslick and well-meaning, it is hard not to like him. On the other hand, every move Syesha Mercado made appeared to be choreographed down to her last hand gesture. That’s not a knock; the contrast between her Vegas-ready style and Castro’s coffeehouse charms simply jumped out due to being placed back-to-back in the show. She closed with Beyonce’s “Listen” and turned the tune into a personal mantra that successfully whipped the crowd up.

If she exited to cheers, things hit ear-piercing levels when David Archuleta hit the stage. I always rooted for the kid on the show; on stage, he’s equally impressive. He opened at the piano with Robbie Williams’ “Angels” and the purity and range of his voice was breathtaking. Then he took the dark angst of OneRepublic's “Apologize” to illustrate how versatile his voice is and how it can be placed in different settings. Strangely, the only weak spot was the closer: Josh Groban’s “When You Say You Love Me” is the kind of drippy song that he needs to stay away from, because he is capable of so much more. He also needs a new fashion coordinator: The shiny black slacks – were they leather? – and a jacket lined with glittery piping made him look ready for a gig on a cruise ship.

The screams were split pretty evenly between David A. and David C., who immediately followed. Cook can come off as cocky on stage; constantly exerting the crowd to get up by waving his arms seemed a bit bold for someone who couldn’t have filled a bar in Glendale last year, much less an arena. But then Cook discussed a sibling who is suffering from cancer: “My brother’s tumor has stopped growing!” he happily told the crowd, and it was hard not to be touched. His set was uneven, though his spooky Michael Jackson-by-way-of-Chris Cornell version of “Billie Jean” sure was hard to beat.

For the encore, all 10 vocalists were on stage, marching back and forth across the stage while singing Rihanna's "Don't Stop the Music." Brooke and Jason both seemed a bit sheepish; David C. grinned happily and David A. looked up at him like a proud little brother. Hey, if you have to throw a group number in there for a closer, this wasn't a bad way to end a fun night.