Spring Break
Archuletta's dull debut misses mark
John Holmes
Issue date: 11/20/08 Section: Entertainment
11/20/08 - David Archuleta. The name alone inspires horrified memories of last season's "American Idol," when I would scratch my head, week after week, wondering just what the appeal was of this 17-year-old (with a demeanor five years younger) boy from Utah.
His awkward personality and inability to string together a sentence when he wasn't singing was maddening for me, but part of the appeal for many. And he did have a hell of a voice. Soon after he finished in second place on "Idol's" seventh season, I came to realize that paired with some well-written songs, Mr. Archuleta could easily carve out a successful career in pop music.
This makes it all the more disappointing that the songs on his self-titled debut are, in a word, garbage. It seems as though to protect young David's squeaky-clean appeal, his songwriters donned latex gloves and stainless steel tools, because these songs are so sterile you could perform open-heart surgery with them.
Take "My Hands" for instance. At first listen, its slow acoustic guitar groove is reminiscent of Chris Brown's sublime "With You," but the main difference is that "My Hands" is just awful.
The word "hand" is repeated eight times in the chorus alone ("it's harder to hold on to your hands than the hands of time," "baby hold on to my hands") and it's especially jarring when you realize that the reason for it is that the songwriters didn't want to have David singing about, you know, kissing, or anything that a real teenager would be thinking about.
The rest of the lyrics on the album are just as asinine. On "Touch My Hand" (again!), he sings, "I see the sparkle of a million flashlights / a wonderwall of stars / but that one that's shining out so bright is the one right where you are."
Besides being the only time besides that awful Oasis song that I've heard the term "wonderwall," they're sub-"High School Musical" in quality.
The songs are so safe and boring that you'll find yourself looking for stimulating content where it just isn't. Good example: "Running" has little David singing, "and nothing's gonna stop me girl / to keep me from coming / 'cause I've got to have every part of you." Yikes!
His awkward personality and inability to string together a sentence when he wasn't singing was maddening for me, but part of the appeal for many. And he did have a hell of a voice. Soon after he finished in second place on "Idol's" seventh season, I came to realize that paired with some well-written songs, Mr. Archuleta could easily carve out a successful career in pop music.
This makes it all the more disappointing that the songs on his self-titled debut are, in a word, garbage. It seems as though to protect young David's squeaky-clean appeal, his songwriters donned latex gloves and stainless steel tools, because these songs are so sterile you could perform open-heart surgery with them.
Take "My Hands" for instance. At first listen, its slow acoustic guitar groove is reminiscent of Chris Brown's sublime "With You," but the main difference is that "My Hands" is just awful.
The word "hand" is repeated eight times in the chorus alone ("it's harder to hold on to your hands than the hands of time," "baby hold on to my hands") and it's especially jarring when you realize that the reason for it is that the songwriters didn't want to have David singing about, you know, kissing, or anything that a real teenager would be thinking about.
The rest of the lyrics on the album are just as asinine. On "Touch My Hand" (again!), he sings, "I see the sparkle of a million flashlights / a wonderwall of stars / but that one that's shining out so bright is the one right where you are."
Besides being the only time besides that awful Oasis song that I've heard the term "wonderwall," they're sub-"High School Musical" in quality.
The songs are so safe and boring that you'll find yourself looking for stimulating content where it just isn't. Good example: "Running" has little David singing, "and nothing's gonna stop me girl / to keep me from coming / 'cause I've got to have every part of you." Yikes!
