Bo peeps

If you watch Fox during prime time, you know the next season of American Idol is about to rear its fugly head (Jan. 17!). Look for the upcoming go-round to be packed with more ridiculous auditions than ever, especially after Kelly Clarkson's last album sold a bajillion copies.

Sadly, there's nothing as grabby as "Since U Been Gone" on Bo Bice's debut disc, boldly titled The Real Thing (RCA). But anyone who watched Bice jab the air with the microphone stand during Idol performances of "Vehicle" or "Remedy" – or the inevitable for Alabama native Bice, "Freebird" – the guy ain't trying to be no TRL darling. He's a rocker, dawg! (Full disclosure: In the finals I voted for Carrie. Jesus, take the wheel.)

Disappointingly, The Real Thing doesn't really rock all that much. That's not to say it sucks. It's just slicker and more studio-ified than expected. There are big names involved, of course: Clive Davis, Nickelback's Chad Kroeger (shudder), ex-Evanescence member Ben Moody, Richie Sambora, and Max Martin (the pop knob-twiddler who helped facilitate the rise of the Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC, and Britney Spears). The whole album has a climate-controlled, expensive-sounding feel – no organic ingredients here, just a bunch of lushly produced, written-by-committee songs with lyrics like, "When push comes to shove, it's never enough."

But even in safe mode, Bice is in fine voice throughout. He's a genuinely strong singer (I'd take Bice over Kroeger, or that clown from Creed, any day of the week) who's not afraid to let a Jesus Christ Superstar moment happen. Too bad The Real Thing is lacking the elements that made him so much fun to watch on Idol – no funk, no Black Crowes-ish blues, no Southern-fried anything, and just a smidge of gospel in "Valley of Angels" (one of two songs cowritten by Bice). A live album, or at least a track or two recorded with a real band, would have left more of an impression than the sum total of The Real Thing's mushy parts. Still, it's a decent enough effort from Idol's second-favorite runner-up. Honestly, no shame here. And chances are it won't make your ears bleed like that Clay Aiken album did. (Cheryl Eddy)