Oh, Steven. I know it’s your thing, this aesthetic — I do.
But you look like a lost member of St. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, who went on walkabout 40 years ago and just got spat out by a sandstorm in the Sahara after having spoken to nobody in decades but a sympathetic rug merchant and a cactus named Fran. I think I can smell those pants through my computer. I wonder if we’ll watch a lot of auditions from Idol hopefuls this year (that’s where he’s supposedly headed) that are extra-astonishingly nasal, because they’re trying to sing without breathing through their noses. STEVEN. You can be Steven Tyler without looking like a wilted flower child. I do believe this.