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We remember when the top however many were just fireworks waiting to be lit aflame and forced into their little boxes and made to listen to Steven Tyler talking about God knows what, and it's all very nice to think about that time: Before Paul McDonald, before Lauren and Scotty proved to be so super creepy. Before Naima took it upon herself.
Casey hadn't had one single meltdown, physical or emotional, and just came in out of the dusky night like some kind of hoofed animal, Durbin was suckling babies at his teat, Jacob Lusk had only just begun the strangled, tense death-by-attrition breakup with humility. Now, of course, it's bombed and blasted out. J. Lo is wearing some kind of snakeskin romper and Steven Tyler is dressed like Ke$ha and Randy Jackson is still just Ranjo all over the place. But back then, it was nice.
