Taylor Hicks reacts after being announced the winner of American Idol on Wednesday. On the left is runner up Katharine McPhee. (AP Photo)

It’s official: McPheever was no match for the Soul Patrol.

Silver-haired Alabama blues boy Taylor Hicks was crowned the fifth American Idol last night in the two-hour finale of Fox’s karaoke carnival, beating out the curvilicious but ultimately forgettable Katharine McPhee.

Host Ryan Seacrest said more than 63 million votes were cast after Tuesday night’s performances by the two finalists, but Hicks’ rabid fan base, affectionately dubbed the Soul Patrol, tipped the scales in the 29-year-old’s favour.

Unfortunately, getting to that final result, lo these 13 weeks after the series began, was like wading through a lake of liquid gouda with broken glass scattered on the bottom. It was that cheesy. And that painful.

What could have been accomplished in literally 15 seconds — heck, let’s be generous and say five minutes, so the winner had time to say thank you and perform a song — was dragged out to a full two hours. Although it felt like so much longer, you’d be forgiven for wondering why the sun hadn’t come up before the credits rolled.

With thousands of fans and a gaggle of B-list celebrities in attendance, including Emily Deschanel (scratch one raging crush off the list), her Bones co-star David Boreanaz (OK, maybe anyone with a series on Fox was told they’d better show up) and a teary-eyed David Hasselhoff (Ich bin ein has-been!), magic was in the air at the Kodak Theater in Hollywood. Pure, unfettered magic.

How else can you describe Katharine McPhee performing a duet with Meat Loaf? And him with a sweat rag clutched firmly in hand, perhaps wishing he could show Kat paradise by the dashboard lights?

Or Chris Daughtry performing with his heroes in the band Live? Apparently once you open for Nickelback, there’s nowhere to go but, erm, up.

Or how about the six dudes from the top 12, including the gloriously unfunky Kevin "Chicken Little" Covais, doing Takin’ Care Of Business ... against a Matrix-themed backdrop? There is no spoon, Mr. Bachman.

Or Clay Aiken-wannabe Michael Sandecki, the William Hung of this season’s Idol, performing a surprise duet with Aiken himself?

OK, that was pretty fun to watch. As were the Golden Idol Awards, tips of the hat to some of the most memorable (read: horrifying) auditions, reaffirming that American Idol is really at its best during the weeding-out process. Once the contestants can more or less sing, it gets old in a hurry.

The Broke-note Mountain cowboys were back. That crazy barefoot guy who nearly gave Paula Abdul a heart attack was back.

And if you thought you’d seen the last of Kellie Pickler, you thought wrong, mister! Hyuk!

The girl who has no problem pronouncing "pneumonia" when in it’s in a song somehow can’t wrap her head around escargot. Kellie, hon, the clueless southern hick act was cute at first. Now you’re doing a worse job of working that angle than Jessica Simpson.

But oh, the special guests! Dionne Warwick, Burt Bacharach, Toni Braxton and a very special appearance by ... Prince? Oh dear. Are the mortgage payments really that bad?

Just kidding, gang. A bit of good-natured ribbing. It’s OK to like American Idol, it really is. It’s safe, it’s glitzy, and the pretty people sing pretty songs. Not always well, but it’s live TV, what can you expect? It’ll sound better on the CD, which will immediately go to the top of the charts.

And why not, with more than 63 million votes cast? "That’s more than any president in the history of our country has received," noted Seacrest. And that really says it all.

Minute by painful minute breakdown

Never has it taken so long to say so little.

"Please welcome your American Idol: Taylor Hicks!" requires about five seconds to utter. Last night’s American Idol finale was two hours long. Even with the commercial breaks, that’s more filler than no-name brand hamburger patties.

What took up the other hour and change of last night’s interminable, brain-devouring cheesefest? After a while it hurt too much to even keep clicking the button on the stopwatch, but we gathered together some rough estimates.

* Judge intros, band intros, general gladhanding: 4 minutes

* The Puck ’N’ Pickler segments, in which seafood-challenged Kellie Pickler screamed at lobsters and pretended she’s never heard of escargot: 8 minutes

* The Golden Idol Awards, honouring the worst auditions, touching family moments, that guy who sang like Cher and vaguely homoerotic male bonding: 17 minutes

* Fake Rhonetta’s satellite interview: 2 minutes

* Solo performances and "Idols with their idols" duets from various top 12 finalists: 26 minutes

* Solo performances by embarrassed-looking legitimate singers: 6 minutes

* Awarding Taylor and Katharine free convertibles for no other reason than a quick product placement opportunity: 1 minute

* Ford commercials dressed up as music videos: 2 minutes

* Group performances by finalists whose names you struggle to remember: 11 minutes

* Ryan Seacrest preening: Whatever time was left over