
Risking "Imagine," a song forever wedded to the Liverpudlian nasality of a certain martyred Beatle, Archuleta defined what "Idol" means by "making it your own." Without denting his aura of innocence, he switched up the melody, inflecting it with soulful touches that had Paula's upper lip visibly moist. She called him a superstar, Randy said it was one of the best "Idol" vocals ever and Simon called him "the one to beat." True to form, the Chosen One feigned mild astonishment, like a child gazing in wonder upon his birthday cake.
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