Tag Archives: BGT

IAN WATSON. THIS WEEKS REALITY

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The Voice ReviewIt’s getting to that time isn’t it? Our reality TV avalanche is thundering along merrily, wiping all before it away like a spitty hankie on an ice cream covered toddler.
The problem is… like that toddler, we were enjoying that ice cream and having it replaced with parental gob whether we want it or not can be a bit distressing.

I don’t watch TOWIE, or MIC or GS because, well, I just can’t. It’s a physical reaction like when my sphincter tries to run up inside my body and hide behind my kidneys when I watch Embarrassing Bodies. My reaction to watching the semi-real but still nut-crushingly mundane lives of ‘some people’ gets me so angry I nearly ate my own chin when a BAFTA- that’s right a f*****G BAFTA! Was handed out to these vacant lots in the name of entertainment.

I can’t live with that level of anger in my life. That’s how wars start.

I can watch EB, albeit lying like an ironing board and peering through the fingers of one hand, because it’s incredibly educational, gripping and necessary. A frank program about medical taboos is long overdue and I applaud the makers and those brave enough to get their hair and make-up done and wave at the kids down the lens just before it pulls focus on their knotted labia. I can just imagine the conversation when they return to an angry child who believed a close-up of their mothers cervix was a once-in-a-lifetime deal.

I can of course, watch talent shows.

Presently we have, BGT, The Voice and The Apprentice. I’m putting the latter in the list of ‘talent’ because it stopped being anything to do with serious business about eight seconds after the first candidate spoke at the start of series two. Now it’s all about who can be the biggest moron and prove, beyond any doubt at all, that the ability to proclaim yourself almost god-like is so easy even a halfwit who can’t do basic sums can do it as long as they’re wearing a suit.
They talk ‘Branson’, they walk ‘Branston’ (thick, made almost entirely of vegetable matter and, in Luisa’s case, goes down well after a little pork).

So that leaves us with BGT and The Voice- what a choice (poetry comes as standard).

We’re about to head into the live finals of both. Jessie’s hair is about to disappear like the promises of stardom she doles out to everyone and Uncle Tom is, perhaps, finally going to stand up, point at Will and shout, “What is he saying?”
For a while it looked like some musical theatre bods were actually going to get the chance to be voted for by real people but a quiet word on Will’s ear had him yanking the handbrake and sending the clearly better Liam home and illustrating that the only keys he understands are on the keyboard of his ‘autotune-o-gram’ [dope edition].

Over on BGT, or Simon’s private fluffer auditions as it’s veered dangerously towards becoming, we witnessed a scene that took me back to my days of working at a Blackpool nightclub in the 80s. Loads of badly dressed under-aged hopefuls waiting hours just to be sent home… and a couple of drag queens.

So all in all, the search for actual talent seems pretty hopeless. Getting through on BGT is easier than beating Mr. Chips off ‘Catchphrase’ at poker… “Hmmm, he seems to be sitting on a toilet and wearing a crown… I think I’ll fold!” And getting through to the finals of The Voice is easy as long as you sound like you smoke thirty a day and desperately want to be Ed Sheeran or Adelle and have never even hummed the melody to “I Dreamed a Dream.”

BGT live finals start tonight and run every night till it’s all over and Sico Productions can buy another country but we’ll have to endure another 7 shows spread over several weeks before we get to see who will be crowned winner of The Voice and guaranteed anonymity forever more. Could you pick Leanne Mitchel out of a crowd? Nope, me neither.

Oh well, if it all ends up being one big vacuous cloud of hype in the name of ratings at least they’ll be able to walk into any lead role in the West End, aint that right Jessie?

The Voice. Week 4

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So the ‘blind’ auditions are over at last. They may have been about as blind as the ‘all-seeing-eye’ but more on that later.

I want to get the good stuff out of the way before I rant about the auditions because, regardless of what may or may not be wrong with it, we’ve been given the chance to see some real quality.


The best bits of this week’s show were people like the young Ruth Brown, a 19 year-old with a voice like Gloria Gaynor-meets-Mischa B. Lindsey Butler, the 41 year-old who sang like I, personally, really wanted to hear her sing- beautifully and with genuine tone, depth and character. There was Becky Hill. A great voice but with ‘trouble’ written all over her face. I can see her storming out more often than Cher Lloyd with the trots.

Finally- and I do mean finally, we had the wonder of Jazz Elington. So good, just so very, very good indeed. I cried, I packed and I left for the nearest HMV where I have decided to camp until he wins the competition and releases his first album so I can get it as soon as humanly possible. He sounded like the best bits of Stevie Wonder, Luther Vandross and maybe a little Sam Cooke rolled onto one sweet sound and poured over my soul. Jazz is a Gospel singer and a Christian, I am neither, but I do have a real love of black church music and Mr. Elington ticked boxes I never knew I had.

Wouldn’t it have been nice if we could have had Jazz presented to us in another format? One that doesn’t treat us all like idiots and then preach, louder than Jazz ever has I imagine, about how virtuous it is.

For those of you who haven’t spotted it, my rant has begun.

I’ll come onto the ‘Ellington Miracle’ as it’s bound to be tagged but let me first point out what appears to be something of an agenda by The Voice and, therefore, the BBC against people from a musical theatre background.

I’m biased- I know that. I’m connected to MT closely enough to want good things for it albeit not as a performer myself. But even someone who has never known the joy of a twelve quid bottle of warm beer will have spotted a pattern in these shows.

How many times have we seen someone labeled ‘West End’ like it was leprosy? Poor Ben Lake was, like those before him, built up to be knocked down. He sang well and took his rejection with the humility and grace of a real professional but when Indie and Pixie, a pair of giggling girls that looked like ‘Two Shoes’ had met the devil at some crossroads and swapped their talent for looks, came on and sang badly, and I mean badly, they were rewarded by ALL FOUR coaches!

I’m starting to think that the secret formula to success on this show is to be as far removed from ‘The West End’ as possible.

Next year I’m going to apply and say, “I’ve never heard of musicals, or even theatres… In fact my entire family were killed by Andrew Lloyd Webber on roller skates and my musical background is… East… Beginning!” Then go on with eight mates or so and sing a black-eyed-peas medley wearing lycra leggings, a black blazer and shirt and a bouffant hairdo. That should cover it.

Will.I.Wont.I said ‘dope’ I said, ‘no shit!’ Danny said he was waiting for something really unusual to hit him, I looked for my penguin wrapped in tinsel and took aim.

It’s ok, crap gets through, I can live with that. It’s a TV show, not open heart surgery. I should relax and let bygones be bygones. It’s just entertainment isn’t it? Well, not according to the BBC.
Fast forward to the arrival, on stage, of Daniel Walker. Who’s he? He’s the poor sap with the dreads and the pregnant wife who went on before Jazz and never stood a chance.

Here’s why.

Everyone has their ten and Bill.a.rickey still has one spot to fill. There are two people left to perform and, even if this were completely open and fair with no set-up involved there would be only two options:

Daniel doesn’t get picked so we see who is last. Or, Daniel gets picked and Jazz gets told, “sorry mate but everyone’s got ten now so there’s no point in you going on- thanks for coming down though… good luck with the baby and all that.”

It was NEVER going to happen was it? The pure maths of the situation meat that Daniel was never going to be picked or we’d have sat through Jazz singing to four chair backs for no reason at all.
Even worse. Before Jazz even came on he should have been told that he was picked regardless of how he sang because there’s one space that needs to be filled and he’s the only choice. The fact that he was the best thing on the entire series was academic. They could have wheeled a dead budgie in a shoe box onto the stage and Will.a.mena would have had to pick it, so why did he try and convince us his mum is residing somewhere in his pancreas with all that, ‘listen to your gut everyone’ nonsense?

It gets worse- a Lot worse. You know those toe-curling moments when Simon Cowell holds up an arm, like Caesar at the Colosseum, and stops the music about two seconds into a song on BGT? The audience is in awe of his foresight as he asks, ‘what other song have you brought?” and the poor cow on the stage has to keep reminding herself not to say, “the one you told me to Simon” and we’re all supposed to think it’s a natural situation. Don’t you just hate that?

When Jazz finished and Jessie asked, out of the blue of course, “Can I just hear you sing?” I was thinking, ‘that’s a bit of an odd thing to ask but he was very good.’ And I imagined the producers screaming about schedules and the live band looking at each other in disbelief and there being a polite but definite ‘no’.

Instead the producer probably counted the band in with a gentle, “’ordinary people’, just like we rehearsed, in three two, one…” and it all just miraculously happened about as naturally as Gary Barlow turning up at the fake door of the fake house in the studio of Michael Buble’s Christmas special and everyone acting all surprised. “Look everyone, it’s Gary Barlow! Who knew?”

The difference is that Mickey Bubbles did it with a twinkle in his eye and a tongue in his cheek and even Simon Cowell doesn’t expect us to believe his little charade any more. The BBC tried to convince us that we were all witnessing some kind of spiritual awakening for Steel.I.Span and the coming of the new messiah for everyone else.

What were the chances that the VERY LAST competitor would turn out to be such a great climax to the auditions? Or that he’d be able to telepathically transmit his own version of ‘Ordinary people’ into the minds of a live band with no warning whatsoever? It’s almost as if the producers had seen every competitor sing before these auditions- oh they have, and arranged this from the very beginning! Surely not- this is the BBC!

This entire show has been a smoke screen. People are told what to sing, set up to fail and thrown to the lions- they must be hoping Satan Cowell will jump ship and join the BBC if they do things his way.
Afterwards every judge said Jazz was amazing- and he was. They all bleated about how they wish they could have him in their team because he’s really something amazing. Shame for the 39- sorry 41 as there are two couples in it, previous contestants who sat and saw all the promises of world domination and certain victory dissolve to be replaced with the sad understanding that they were just the warm up act for the Jazz Ellington show. Oh well.

Next week we have face-to-face battles in a stage designed around a boxing ring. Fists may fly, faces will be covered in spittle, grills will be got ‘all up in’.

Very cultured- makes BGT look like the Royal Ballet.

 

THE VOICE: WEEK 1.

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Right!

Before we start, before we even think about starting and are still in bed scrambling for the snooze button, let’s get something very clear indeed.

‘The Voice’ ISN’T about finding a voice.

Let’s just knock that idea on the head and put it in a dark corner to come round in its own time and wander off unnoticed shall we?

The notion that this is all about pure singing ability and nothing else is so absurd that it’s forced me to use the words, ‘notion’ and ‘absurd’ and I’m not even in a period drama.

The number of indicators that disprove the title are far too numerous to list here but the opening couple of contestants pretty much said it all.

We open with a 17-year-old who’s first sentence is about how important songwriting is to her and how she’s always getting picked on.

BOOM!

That’s pretty much all you need to hear. Instantly we know that this, just like ‘X-Factor’ is about milking some undiscovered talent for phone votes. If you haven’t got a back-story that will have us all wiping tears from the screens of our mobiles then forget it.

Jessica played a Jessie Jay song- what were the odds? Sang about as well as your average teenager who can sing. Mascara flowed backstage and mindless teenies screamed out front.

What should have happened was the judges eventually turn around, once the singing has stopped, and tell her they didn’t pick her because even though she could probably get by as a performer, this show is all about The Voice and there are more chops in Paul McCartney’s fridge.

Instead, all four judges wanted to work with her like she’d just invented singing from scratch, and Will.i.am…Will.I.Am.. Will- sod it, Bill, offered her global success and record deals in every country he could think of before anyone else had even spoken. When they did, it wasn’t really worth it.
Hmmm. That was kind of easy. Well done Jessica- or ‘The New Whitney’ as we should probably call her. Bullseye! Lets send the crew home- job done! Lights off Tom, last one down the Grammies pays for the Chrystal!

Jessica, now, a middle-of-the-road, unheard-of teenager with a single, bog-standard performance to her name, has the unenviable task of telling someone who has produced Michael Jackson why she’s not picking him. It was like ‘Blind Date goes to Hollywood’ and little Billy was snubbed in favour of Miss. J. because ‘number one hits don’t matter’ to our little Irish Superstar. She’s ‘a songwriter’ and it’s all about ‘making music and sharing my message.’

WOAH!! No it’s not- not to us anyway! Not here on ‘The Voice’! Anywhere but here surely? Come on!
It’s all about THE VOICE isn’t it? I’m no vocal coach but I know she’s vocally about as unique as a pair of Crocs.

I had to take a moment. I had to slap myself in the face and grow up a little.
My hopes that this would carry the integrity the BBC usually floats above all other channels on, was misguided. How silly of me for thinking it might do what it says on the tin (what it ‘reads’ on the tin actually because tins can’t speak- but I digress) and be just about finding the best voice in the country. How naïve can I be?

If they wanted to find the best voice in the country they would have done it differently and would almost certainly be choosing mostly professionals why? Well because life’s like that. They’re professionals for a reason.

Don’t get me wrong, there are examples of undiscovered gems that only a talent show can unearth- over on the other side in the ‘shallow lands’ of ITV we had a teenage fat lad on BGT that had me crying so hard I got snot on the dogs.

HE should have been on The Voice- it was made precisely for people like him.
Even a half-deaf nobody like me could hear that his voice was up there- WAY up there. Better (in my view of course) than Russell Watson… now what’s his nickname again? And Paul Potts- not to be confused with Pol Pot under any circumstances, and even the Susan ‘Bovine’ Boyle. This kid has a truly amazing voice. But instead of having Tom Jones on his feet shouting the Louis Walsh anthem- “You’re what this show is all about!” He was having his chins stared up at by Carmen Electra who’s about as appropriate a judge of anything but nipple bronzer and smiling through ‘pout cramp’ as Jessie Jay is on making it in spite of being fat and ugly.

Breathe…. Find a happy place… it’s only TV.

So, with my new awareness of The Voice fully updated I watched on while, somewhere in my subconscious, there was yet another memorial service for a little bit of my soul.

Next up we had Sean- formerly of boy band ‘FIVE’… ‘5IVE’… ‘FIV5’?- sod it ‘V’. He suffered the ignominy of four chair backs and smiled through the tumbleweed. The judges turned and told him what an amazing voice he had and that they just ‘couldn’t see what they could do’ for him? Well picking him would have been a start. Jessie said she would love to listen to his voice all day, at home. Well, unless he comes round to fit her new kitchen, she’s not gonna get the chance now is she? His voice wasn’t great so, in this instance, they were right but the cracks in the premise of this show were already so clear it was like skydiving over the Grand Canyon and we were only two songs in. Sean could have had the voice of an angel but his story and his lack of anonymity had sealed his fate before he drew breath.

And so it went on, We had a lady with a good voice and a bald head who I, and I suspect the entire audience, felt a little robbed of their emotion by when she announced it was alopecia. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a horrible thing to happen to anyone, especially a woman trying to make it as a singer. But in the world of unintentionally bald women it’s something of a best-case-scenario.

We had an overweight, slightly effeminate Adele impersonator and Tom Jones fan. Surprisingly only one judge turned around- it was Tom… what did you say those odds were again? He was a good singer with a great personality. They all said they thought it was a woman singing and then Tom, clearly not on message, said he thought he sounded like him and, as the laws of inevitability crashed into his lap, then had to turn and ask the other judges if they thought he sounded like a woman too?

When Tom Jones has to ask people who have been chosen to judge singing talent if he sounds like a woman it’s time to throw your glitter wig into a bucket and ride out-of-town.

This is my biggest problem with ‘The Voice’- the judging process.

I like, and respect, all the judges and when I heard that TJ was one of them I instantly expected him to do what everyone wants from this show. I like Jessie and Bill and Danny from The Script. All quality judges- and not a Carmen Electra amongst them. This is what the BBC does but it usually makes its own programs and doesn’t buy them in. When it does we get this.

This was the first episode and by the end we already had Tom and Bill dropping names like they were playing Top Trumps and it had turned into a judge fight just like all the others that follow the laws as dictated by the much-thumbed ‘how to make talent shows’ by S. Cowell.

They’d run out of pleas, were bereft of ways to sell themselves to their prospective protégés and had to resort to flirting, begging and bragging by the end credits.

We’ve got an entire series to go yet!

Instead of the show allowing them to say, “Sorry mate but I can’t see how I’m going to discover you if you’ve already been discovered.” Which would be fair enough on the X-Factor. They have to keep it all about the singing, even though it’s clearly not, or they’ll get plebs like me complaining in our dozens. So someone with a voice like a toddler murmuring from the far end of a storm gets offered world domination and someone with a great voice but no back story will be told they’re ‘pitchy’ or not ‘leading’ enough instead by a woman who owes a large part of her success to skin-tight lycra.

I know I need to relax and just enjoy it. I will, I promise. But for now I can’t help but despair at what seemed like something new being the same old crap as everything else but with a new gimmick.

Shame really… still, can’t wait till next week!

X Factor and BGT here at least until 2013 {TV}

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ITV has signed a new, three-year deal with The X Factor & Britain’s Got Talent, keeping Simon Cowell in work for at least another 3 years.

As part of this renewed collaboration with Syco Entertainment and FremantleMedia, the broadcaster has also secured exclusive UK broadcast rights to the American version of The X Factor and America’s Got Talent for ITV2.

Simon Cowell said: “I am thrilled this deal has been concluded with ITV to enable our relationship to continue to develop. I am committed to making sure both shows get bigger and better every year. I have a lot to thank ITV for; they have been key in making The X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent the UK’s biggest television shows.”  

The X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent are the UK’s most popular entertainment television programmes on any channel.  The two shows provided the most watched television moments of 2009 with peak audiences of 19.3 million for The X Factor final and 19.9 million for the Britain’s Got Talent Final.
This year’s seventh series of The X Factor has been the most popular ever with viewing figures across every stage reaching record levels. Almost 17 million watched the second Judges’ houses show, and yesterday’s second live results show peaked at an enormous 15.2 million; the highest ever at this stage of the competition.
Online, ITV.com/TheXFactor attracted over 95 million page views during the 2009 series with over 30 million video views across the run.