A caller thinks it "sounded pretty good," but God forbid it "pick up the beat there" a little bit. Exec VP gets excited: "That's my point! The beat is not what Café is!" This is like Pootie Tang or Jem or Footloose where The Man hates all music that is good. Caller two calls it "formulaic" and "typical pop," which leaves Rebecca nonplussed. Third caller thinks it's "okay," but didn't "hear many lyrics," or anything else "besides a really weak riff." Rebecca interviews how she thought such a "sophisticated, intellectual audience" (DRINK!) would maybe buy into the whole fake Nigerian background thing, but was "kind of surprised" to find that that there was no "real huge enthusiasm." Her face remains intensely surprised at this even in the post-task interview. The last caller finds it interesting, but ultimately wants "more vocals." Cut to Rebecca hating everyone in the world while she processes this clear failure.
The execs talk about how they liked both songs, but obviously one is not right for the XM Café. Trump comes in, hair looking absolutely ridiculous. It's apparently becoming kind of a sho-lo in the back, like a DA with an attitude problem. He starts grilling the execs about the songs before he even walks all the way in, and they reiterate that both teams did well and created good tracks, but that there's a clear winner. Trump's excited by both clauses of this, and summons the Apprenti. So there are the Final Six, right, and the three execs, and Trump, all staring at each other, and I can't remember the last time this season the judging part was held in those specifically stressful circumstances.
Capital Edge, they felt, really listened to the record -- "I knew who Levi was," they say, and it really fits Café well. Excel had a good story to tell, but it didn't come across in the song. More importantly, the callers didn't understand why the song was on XM Café at all. They further note that this was Excel's big risk, being inconsistent with the format, and that printing the wrong channel number on the poster in front of the entire exec team was the cherry on top of a crappy sundae indeed. Capital Edge made a "better fit," and they win. They all grin hugely, and Clay's face goes wonky as his plans for vindication go down in flames. The really gorgeous part of it is that Capital Edge could not give precisely one tenth of a fuck about Clay at this point, having won, and that's the thing that is killing him. Trump congratulates Felisha, and notes again that there's no exemption, but she couldn't care less, because she's tickled as hell.
The reward is that they're all going for a ride in the Trumpcopter (Randal is sad) to look at all the Trump-owned or -associated buildings in New York, and he's going to scream at them about them. Alla and Felisha clearly find this awesome, and we can infer that Adam is going to sob with joy as usual. Trump reminds them that the eventual winner will be influencing the New York skyline for real, and Rebecca intensely smiles and is distraught.