Oh, Manchester, So Much To Answer For

Omarion just frigging oozes charisma. Watching him a couple of weeks ago, on BET's 106th and Park run-up to their S.O.S. Katrina-relief telethon, singing "Touch" live (to track, yes, but he sang live; I've never seen him lip-synch) while dancing with a crew of at least 6 guys - well, shit, he owned that live studio audience. Granted, he (along with Bow Wow) is a God to the 106th and Park crowd the same way that J.T. and Britney used to be for TRL (let's be honest: 106th is one thing and one thing only, and that's the black TRL), but still. Those girls scream and cry and shiver and shudder and buy his records. More than that, though, is the fact that O seems to have an awfully good sense of himself. He's naughty-not-dirty, sly with that wink and smirk he's got down, and never seems like he's going through the motions (the same couldn't quite be said for his former group, the Jackson 5-via-Backstreet B2K who were ever professional, and I mean that as a put-down). Why isn't he a huge star with white American teenagers yet? Maybe he's yet a little too crotch-thrustingly threatening to girls who prefer the Ken-doll neutered sexuality of dorks like Jesse McCartney (David Cassidy he's not; David Cassidy was Jim Morrison compared to this new pack of WB prettyboys-to-record-deal-toting-heartthrobs manqué). Tell you what, though: Jesse's not inducing spontaneous orgasms the way Omarion is. Much of America sadly doesn't realize it just yet, but Omarion is a capital-"S" Star. Just you wait...