After the battle, Cee Lo says some things to the girls that don't really make sense entirely. Like, this is what he said to Jordan: "Jordan, you should kinda know she's gonna take that point, that you, you know, find a little space to do it equally as grand, you know, you didn't necessarily do that on this battle. I would go with Adriana." Come on, Cee Lo, what is that?
Adam notes that he has never seen a battle so equally matched, and eventually chooses Jordan. Christina adds that they're both "superstars," but in my opinion, they are both young, pretty girls who want to sing for a living and are good at singing. Blake is frustrated he doesn't have a steal left, which is no consolation to either singer. Christina says she relates to Jordan, being Disney kids and all, and Jordan added some ad libs. Jordan nods eagerly. Christina says Adriana went for some of those high notes, and has a natural ability. She chooses Adriana, so Jordan will have to go back to hanging out with Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato and whoever "the Cheetah Girls" are.
Then, Christina tells Jordan not to cry, which is entirely ineffective. Jordan thanks Christina for the "life-changing" opportunity. She felt confident that it would be her, because Adriana is a little more raw. Blake is sad he doesn't have a steal, but doesn't actually care about any of this.
Speaking of not caring, the next battle belongs to Team Blake: Kelly Crapa versus Michaela Paige. Unlike Christina, Blake chose a variety of artists, so there aren't enough country match-ups to make things come out even. Kelly Crapa (pronounced Crepe-uh, for all you aspiring telemarketers out there), is an aspiring country artist. I don't remember her, but I just want to say that her hair is far too long. Michaela Paige also got montaged, but her hair is at least more interesting. She is a "rocker."
Kelly and Michaela are fifteen and sixteen, respectively, so Michael Buble and Blake spent most of the first rehearsal just marveling at them. Blake assigns them a Joan Jett song, and Michael Buble calls Michaela "a sixty-year old black woman trapped in the body of a blond, punk girl." No, she's not, Michael. I wish people would stop saying that. Black womens' souls and voices are not trapped anywhere -- they are comfortably existing inside the bodies of black women. Just stop.