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The Voice: not just a talent contest – you can watch it while waiting to die The Voice: not just a talent contest – you can watch it while waiting to die
(6 months later)
I don't know if you saw BBC1's The Voice on Saturday night, although I'm guessing you didn't because it clashed with Holiday on the Buses on ITV3. I'd have missed it myself if I hadn't gone out of my way to find an advance copy, figuring it'd be an easy topic to scribble nonsense about, this being the Easter weekend and everything. I could watch it while eating a sandwich on Good Friday (which, from my current perspective, is today), type the thing up briskly, hit my deadline, and wander outside to enjoy the grey skies and biting winds of spring.I don't know if you saw BBC1's The Voice on Saturday night, although I'm guessing you didn't because it clashed with Holiday on the Buses on ITV3. I'd have missed it myself if I hadn't gone out of my way to find an advance copy, figuring it'd be an easy topic to scribble nonsense about, this being the Easter weekend and everything. I could watch it while eating a sandwich on Good Friday (which, from my current perspective, is today), type the thing up briskly, hit my deadline, and wander outside to enjoy the grey skies and biting winds of spring.
But I'd forgotten all modern talent shows feel the need for a running time that rivals Lawrence of Arabia. After three hours I checked the timebar to discover I was still only an eighth of the way through. Towards the end, as entire eras wheeled past in a blur, I realised the programme itself would outlive me, and began desperately scrawling notes that described the broadcast's initial few centuries for the benefit of any descendants hoping to pick up from where I left off.But I'd forgotten all modern talent shows feel the need for a running time that rivals Lawrence of Arabia. After three hours I checked the timebar to discover I was still only an eighth of the way through. Towards the end, as entire eras wheeled past in a blur, I realised the programme itself would outlive me, and began desperately scrawling notes that described the broadcast's initial few centuries for the benefit of any descendants hoping to pick up from where I left off.
The first note was a question mark. This was a reference to Danny O'Donoghue, the least famous of The Voice's resident judges. He's the lead singer with an Irish band called the Script, although to me he'll always be Wikipedia's Danny O'Donoghue, because that's where I first encountered him, during my epic struggle to uncover his identity. I thought maybe he was the kid from the annoying 2006 Frosties ad, but no.The first note was a question mark. This was a reference to Danny O'Donoghue, the least famous of The Voice's resident judges. He's the lead singer with an Irish band called the Script, although to me he'll always be Wikipedia's Danny O'Donoghue, because that's where I first encountered him, during my epic struggle to uncover his identity. I thought maybe he was the kid from the annoying 2006 Frosties ad, but no.
The Script (described on Wikipedia as an "alternative rock band") had a number one single called Hall of Fame last year, which I thought I'd never been exposed to, until I fearlessly looked it up on YouTube and discovered I'd already heard it 150,000 times, in shops. I hear most new music in shops these days. As far as I'm concerned, anything released after 2002 is part of an ever-growing "shop music" genre encompassing everything from timid rock to airbrushed R&B, all of it destined to transcend its shopfloor origins and become the backing track for a Great Essex Poach-Off contestant's biographical VT package between now and Christmas.The Script (described on Wikipedia as an "alternative rock band") had a number one single called Hall of Fame last year, which I thought I'd never been exposed to, until I fearlessly looked it up on YouTube and discovered I'd already heard it 150,000 times, in shops. I hear most new music in shops these days. As far as I'm concerned, anything released after 2002 is part of an ever-growing "shop music" genre encompassing everything from timid rock to airbrushed R&B, all of it destined to transcend its shopfloor origins and become the backing track for a Great Essex Poach-Off contestant's biographical VT package between now and Christmas.
Hall of Fame featured celebrity muttering from the nakedly preposterous will.i.am, another of The Voice's judges, and a man who pulls off the incredible trick of looking precisely like an action-figure version of himself. He probably has to push a button on his back to make himself talk. Not that he needs to bother saying anything – because somehow it's impossible to remember a single thing will.i.am has ever said. He could confess to serial murder on live television and the police would forget it ever happened during the race to the studio. They'd burst in looking confused and embarrassed and arrest Tom Jones by mistake.Hall of Fame featured celebrity muttering from the nakedly preposterous will.i.am, another of The Voice's judges, and a man who pulls off the incredible trick of looking precisely like an action-figure version of himself. He probably has to push a button on his back to make himself talk. Not that he needs to bother saying anything – because somehow it's impossible to remember a single thing will.i.am has ever said. He could confess to serial murder on live television and the police would forget it ever happened during the race to the studio. They'd burst in looking confused and embarrassed and arrest Tom Jones by mistake.
At least I think that's Tom Jones. He looks more like Zeus these days. Zeus would be an amazing signing for any talent contest. I don't care who you are, you'd tune in to BBC1 to see that, even if ITV were showing nude 9/11 in 3D.At least I think that's Tom Jones. He looks more like Zeus these days. Zeus would be an amazing signing for any talent contest. I don't care who you are, you'd tune in to BBC1 to see that, even if ITV were showing nude 9/11 in 3D.
The final judge is Jessie J, popular singist of popular songs such as Domino, of Costa Coffee and Argos fame, and Pricetag, one of the few songs of the past three years everyone actually likes. I keep calling them "judges", but the programme calls them "coaches"; at one point the voiceover claims, "they don't judge – they coach". Then it shows them judging the shit out of everybody.The final judge is Jessie J, popular singist of popular songs such as Domino, of Costa Coffee and Argos fame, and Pricetag, one of the few songs of the past three years everyone actually likes. I keep calling them "judges", but the programme calls them "coaches"; at one point the voiceover claims, "they don't judge – they coach". Then it shows them judging the shit out of everybody.
To be fair, there's little negative judgment going on. Rather than delivering acid putdowns, they offer sympathy and hugs to the singers who don't pass muster. It's a feelgood environment. When someone sings well, the programme showers them with disproportionate praise, like a medieval villager appeasing a vengeful forest deity. The first contestant is an overweight Welsh guy who can carry a tune. This earns him nine standing ovations before the song's over. When it's then revealed he works with special-needs kids for a living, the audience applauds again, even though victory on The Voice would presumably lead to him ending that philanthropic career in favour of one involving stadium gigs and blowjobs on yachts.To be fair, there's little negative judgment going on. Rather than delivering acid putdowns, they offer sympathy and hugs to the singers who don't pass muster. It's a feelgood environment. When someone sings well, the programme showers them with disproportionate praise, like a medieval villager appeasing a vengeful forest deity. The first contestant is an overweight Welsh guy who can carry a tune. This earns him nine standing ovations before the song's over. When it's then revealed he works with special-needs kids for a living, the audience applauds again, even though victory on The Voice would presumably lead to him ending that philanthropic career in favour of one involving stadium gigs and blowjobs on yachts.
Will.i.am tells him: "You represent all the teachers out there, all the people who care for kids. Your heart is as big as your voice." Which is pretty good work for a guy who, just three minutes previously, was a total unknown.Will.i.am tells him: "You represent all the teachers out there, all the people who care for kids. Your heart is as big as your voice." Which is pretty good work for a guy who, just three minutes previously, was a total unknown.
Still, winning is no guarantee of fame. The winner of last year's show, Leanne Something, was propelled to international obscurity, with a single that was pipped to the coveted number 44 slot by a recording of Nicholas Witchell breathing into a cake tin. So the winner gets fame-proofed. The stakes couldn't be lower. Entering The Voice is like entering a witness protection scheme. The only difference is the background music.Still, winning is no guarantee of fame. The winner of last year's show, Leanne Something, was propelled to international obscurity, with a single that was pipped to the coveted number 44 slot by a recording of Nicholas Witchell breathing into a cake tin. So the winner gets fame-proofed. The stakes couldn't be lower. Entering The Voice is like entering a witness protection scheme. The only difference is the background music.
Anyway, I've just realised that out of about 900 words, I've written only about 45 that specifically pertain to the multimillennia-length episode I just sat through, which means I could've saved myself the effort and judged it on the trailer alone. Or the first few seconds of the trailer. Or the listing in the Radio Times. Or the typeface it was printed in. Or the colour of the ink. Or anything, really, apart from the programme itself.Anyway, I've just realised that out of about 900 words, I've written only about 45 that specifically pertain to the multimillennia-length episode I just sat through, which means I could've saved myself the effort and judged it on the trailer alone. Or the first few seconds of the trailer. Or the listing in the Radio Times. Or the typeface it was printed in. Or the colour of the ink. Or anything, really, apart from the programme itself.
What I'm saying is I should've watched Holiday on the Buses instead. You know. Like you did.What I'm saying is I should've watched Holiday on the Buses instead. You know. Like you did.
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