"Idol:" This Was Our Now

I'm not even going to bother commenting on the results of tonight's "Idol." If you're sentient, you already know by now. If you don't know, you can guess. But here are some thoughts on the finale that I couldn't fit into tomorrow's paper.

I used to hate the "Idol" medleys, but I've come around to them, and I'd like to think it's because they're getting better, trading an Up With People vibe for an attempt at the Jackson 5. Attempt, yes, but still, I liked the sight and sound of the guys backing up a super-Botoxed Smokey Robinson on "Tears of a Clown." And when they all sang their mini-solos, the truth was inescapable: The best voice belongs to Brandon Rogers. Singing competition, my foot.

Jordin may have gotten to sing the coronation song, but Blake had the memorable performance of the night; he looked a little like early Eminem, dancing around Doug E. Fresh, but he held his own, yo. (Bette Midler, on the other hand? A little pitchy.)

And when Sanjaya came out...well, Ava started to shriek with glee. Boy, I miss that kid. I'll happily watch his inevitable guest spot on "Hannah Montana." (And yes, I put Ava to bed right after that. Even though she was demanding to see him sing again.)

Clive Davis, on the other hand, really knows how to suck the helium from the balloon. I understand his interest in record sales, but did we really need the long tribute to post-"American Idol" songsmiths, or the big long smooch to Chris Daughtry? I know, I know, Clive wanted him to win last year. So did I. But I'm feeling for Taylor these days, when he took the stage and wasn't half bad, I felt gratified. Not that I'm going to buy his album. But I won't buy Daughtry's, either. All I know for sure is that next January, I'll be watching again.