‘Idols’ still in the workshop

After the grand finale of this year’s “American Idols Live” tour, which stopped Saturday at the Staples Center, the 10 finalists did their best parade-float waves and exited to the last strains of James Brown’s “Living in America.” The only response that seemed reasonable was a boggled mind.

It wasn’t merely that moments before turning Brown’s goofy late-career hit into a lost song from “Rent,” the group was singing Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” an anthem that should be kept as far away from funk as a Zippo lighter from a Jheri curl. It wasn’t the visual clash between Kellie Pickler’s corset-stretch jeans combo and Katharine McPhee’s evening gown, or the blinding whiteness of Ace Young’s teeth, or the nauseous, back-seat-of-a-speeding-car feeling caused by witnessing Taylor Hicks’ crazy dance moves in the flesh. It was the complicated confusion of the whole spectacle.

Like any era-defining cultural phenomenon, “American Idol” operates on many levels. It’s an exercise in pop democracy, a radical revisioning of the American songbook, an on-the-ground example of tech-age interactivity and, of course, an old-fashioned talent show. One could write an equally long list to describe Saturday’s concert. Start by noticing all the tot-parent combos in the crowd and call it nouveau family entertainment. Listen to the between-song banter, an endless outpouring of gratitude, and it seems like one of those post-fundraising thank-you tours elected officials make.

Focus on the singing itself and watch the moves these arena newbies are working out -- from Paris Bennett’s embarrassing Beyonce homages to Bucky Covington’s excellent headbanging -- and you’ll realize it’s a traveling boot camp for Idol Inc.’s latest batch of cash cows. Each former contestant is still auditioning, this time for huge, live crowds.

Gospel mama Mandisa went for big, over-sung notes and preachy inspiration. Young tried hammy gestures and carefully displayed muscles. Pickler showed off a pleasant sexual self-confidence. Lisa Tucker, sitting at a keyboard, projected musical ambition. Bennett was sassy, if clumsy; Covington, happy and cute. Each of these approaches reached for what every pop star needs to last: a golden schtick.

On that level, “Idols Live” 2006 had one clear champion, and it wasn’t season-winner Hicks. His adorable enthusiasm was in full force, feeling very Elmo-like with so many kids in the room. But his vocal control was dangerously spotty. Hicks proved his soul-shouter mettle on Bob Seger’s “Hollywood Nights” and did mild justice to predictable choices like the Doobie Brothers’ “Takin’ It to the Streets.” But his choreography was more effective than his singing, and he faded out on the choruses of his own first hit, “Do I Make You Proud.” That song is a bulldozer -- its faux-gospel chorus plows right into you and lifts you up, willing or not -- but Hicks seemed relieved when it was over. “You’ve been a great crowd,” he sang, exiting with barely a backward glance. During the encores he mostly mugged.

McPhee, Hicks’ runner-up, fared better vocally but also didn’t convince as an arena star. Instead, she appeared exactly, eerily, as she does on television. She reenacted her notable performance of KT Tunstall’s “Black Horse & the Cherry Tree” pose for pose, and copied her season finale showstopper, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” note for bent note. McPhee will certainly prevail in showbiz, but arenas will be secondary: She was born and bred to shine in two dimensions.

Elliott Yamin didn’t walk with the night’s prize, either, only because his outfit -- an oversized Lakers jersey, baggy jeans and a Kangol-style cap -- looked so tragically wrong on his delicate frame that it distracted from his lovely, agile voice.

No, the evening’s star pupil was Chris Daughtry, “Idol’s” black-clad, bald rocker, who displayed a gift that’s all too rare among the show’s pop strivers. It’s what spiritual types call “self-observation”: the ability to focus inward and remain alert.

Daughtry’s bold baritone, though hardly unique, has that slight edge of intelligence that makes it seem as if he actually notices his material. His choices might be classic -- Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” -- or cheesy -- Styx’s “Renegade” -- but Daughtry finds the story in them. His short set Saturday felt like an event unfolding, not a rerun.

Daughtry may never produce anything tolerable on his own. His taste (he loves second-tier alterna-bands like Live and Fuel) does not bode well. But he seems willing to try to do more than earn additional waves from his voting constituency. Away from the distracting swirl of “American Idol,” that might help him survive.