Is This a Dear John Letter?

Well, not really, but there's something that I feel I must confess. Rockstar: INXS (you and your crazy colon), you are beginning to bore the crap out of me.

Why? Why do you do this? Why have all of your competitors turned into bland, generic, cardboard cutouts of their former selves? I understand that they're attempting to become the singer that INXS would pick, but seriously? I don't think they would pick ANY of you silly little children based on last night's "sets" (heh).

Making up the breakdown

JD: Usually you seem to be able to handle the whole troublesome singing while moving your body. Last night? So not the case. In fact, you were painful to my ears. Your lower register is non-existant, and your stage presence is naught but a bad, bad Elvis impersonation. It pains me that the stations up here insist on using you, and only you, in their commercials for the show. Stinky man, I don't know how else to say this: (colon) You stink.

Suzie: Lady, you surprised me last night. As the icky old men from Our Band: INXS stated, you have a lovely, powerful voice. One, when paired with the type of songs that you write and excel at performing, simply proves that you would really falter and fail as the band's frontwoman. Sorry about that.

Mig: Oh, Mig, what are you up to? Smart with the sit down at the keyboard and ballad it up after a kinetic performance, but mister, YOU CAN'T WRITE A SONG TO SAVE YOUR LIFE. Thing is, I don't reckon that'll be too detrimental to your eventual evolution into the band's singer, 'cause, let's face it, the Farrises did most of the writing anyway.

Jordis: Why are you so boring? What happened to you? You're having second and third and fourth thoughts, aren't you? Get out while you can still salvage something from this 15 minutes.

Marty: You have three notes. That isn't enough, kiddo.

INXS: I told you already, air instrumentation? For drunk frat boy idiots. Stop it, already.