By Allison Stewart
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, November 18, 2008

At this point in its run, it's probably inevitable that "American Idol" would have to begin recycling its archetypes. David Cook and David Archuleta, the show's most recent winner and runner-up, respectively, have released self-titled discs within a week of each other, and both fit neatly into niches carved out by contestants past.

The 17-year-old Archuleta -- sweet-faced, asexual, beloved of mothers -- has a fondness for smiley and yearning songs about the power of love. He's this season's Clay Aiken. The 25-year-old Cook glowers strategically, wears black sometimes and plays the guitar. He's this season's Chris Daughtry.

Both artists have made considerably better records than their progenitors ever did, though this isn't saying much.

"David Archuleta" is a work of great, syrupy charm, a dorky delight without obvious artifice, and without teeth. Unlike Aiken, who always seemed kind of peevish and whose pop albums tended to take an unfortunate detour toward musical theater, Archuleta is too young to be complicated, and he's got an MOR heart. He's like Phil Collins with a better voice, or Robbie Williams without social skills.

He loves inspirational ballads and soulful pure-pop songs about unrequited love ("A Little Too Not Over You," "Touch My Hand," "Crush"), all sung with the same tremulous, just-trying-to-get-to-know-you-girl zing, and all so catchy it's almost unfair.

"David Cook" is an album of decidedly more modest charms, though it's not necessarily Cook's fault: He's a formidable singer and stylist with a sense of assurance rare for a newly minted "Idol" winner (that he released a rules-skirting pre-"Idol" solo debut, "Analog Heart," probably didn't hurt). But the market for unthreatening grunge-pop is currently overserved, and as good as "David Cook" frequently is, there's little to distinguish it from similar works by Lifehouse, say, or Collective Soul.

"Cook" is swaggery except where it's sensitive, faux-dangerous except for a few necessary adult-contemporary ballads (such as the searing, pretty great "Permanent") and rotely anthemic throughout. It's the album Daughtry would have made if he'd had better producers and more of an interest in melody, or Hinder might have made if it were less scary.

But both "David Cook" and "David Archuleta" are better albums than the tone-deaf show souvenirs most contestants are routinely saddled with.

"Idol" overlords used to have iron-fisted control over their contestants' output, which is why Kelly Clarkson sounded so miserable on her debut, and why Ruben Studdard once had to sing a cover of the Carpenters hit "Superstar," an indignity from which he has yet to recover.

But the show's overseers have recently loosened the creative reins, or at least given the appearance of doing so. Both "Cook" and "Archuleta" offer previously forbidden glimpses, however brief, of the artists' actual personalities: Cook is Chris Cornell as a Midwestern bar singer; Archuleta seems to be made entirely of fluffy unicorns and Skittles.

Unlike most "Idol" product, "Cook" and "Archuleta" benefit from the idea, no matter how specious, that their creators are actually invested in the process. And unlike most "Idol" product, both discs would be a lot less likable if someone else had made them.

DOWNLOAD THESE: David Archuleta: "Crush," "My Hands"; David Cook: "Declaration," "Lie"