Tag Archives: JESSIE JAY

The Voice Week 7

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LIVE, LIVE, LIVE! The BBC love a bit of LIVE don’t they? They spend so much money sending people out to report LIVE for no reason whatsoever because they just can’t get enough of it. Some poor, soaked and miserable journo has to stand outside the houses of parliament to talk about a politician who’s not only not there but is watching at home from the comfort of his own gimp mask.

Why? We know what the houses of parliament look like! Just do it from the studio and save our license fee a few quid.

“NO!” Auntie Beeb would reply, “We are the BBC and we do live TV, reasons are for commercial channels!”
Well, you’d think they’d at least be good at it, wouldn’t you?

At the very least they’d drop this ridiculous pretense of , “what a great show last night was” for the results show even though EVERYONE knows it was filmed on the Saturday. They get away with it on Strictly because… well it’s Strictly, but this is meant to be a slicker than snot, smoother than the cream in Simon Cowell’s Twinkie, all singing (no dancing) flagship live broadcast to put them on top of the global talent show pile.

Will someone please just admit it’s filmed right after the live show and be done with it? These contestants are already way out of their league just by being asked their name so expecting them to remember to lie to 11 million people is asking too much, and all that , “err… yeah, last night was great! (wink, wink)” rubbish makes it look like Wayne’s World.

Last week’s Live final was roundly criticized by pretty much everyone with a keyboard. The production was stilted and awkward. There was more dead air than a séance and the whole thing had the feel of a corporate training weekend where unwilling participants who, would rather be at the bar, have to stand up and ‘tell the group’ about themselves.

This week they responded by pulling it off with a touch more professionalism but it was still way short of the mark.

Now, I’m no fashionista, as anyone who has ever seen me will contest. In fact I get snotty looks from the old ladies in ‘Age Concern’ and was actually paid to leave Abercrombie & Fitch to spare the screams of the models that work there, in spite of it being too dark for even ‘Most Haunted’ to see anything. But I have to ask what was going on with the wardrobe department?

Billy Piping’s jacket was yet another variation on the same thing he’s never seen without. He looked like and extra from TRON and I’m sure he’s flogging them out of a van in the BBC car park. Jessie J was in her grandma’s pajamas and feint uncle Tom was still waiting for someone to colour him in.

Even the contestants weren’t spared the horrors of ‘S.Wonder &Co’ (“ We guess- You dress”) in the dressing rooms.

Poor Ruth- Ann was thrown into a neon metallic blue jump suit from 1976. I couldn’t help wondering if Sheila Fergusson of the 3 degrees wasn’t at home rummaging through an old suitcase with the sneaking suspicion something was missing. She didn’t sing well, but then again she never does. It’s a bit much of the live finals of a talent contest when you get a standing ovation from your coach for, “Singing a whole song, in tune, and smiling!” Jeepers! Someone book this genius a stadium tour immediately!
Vince Kidd, whose weight was quadrupled to 8 stone when he put his chains on came out looking like he was going to sing, ‘Eye of the Tiger’ and Toni looked… well, to be honest I have no idea what she was wearing because I’m constantly mesmerized by her head whenever she’s on stage. She has a very strong bone structure too, which doesn’t help because for an attractive woman, and she’s certainly
attractive, she can come over a bit ‘Zelda’. If there’s one glaring wardrobe requirement in the whole production it must be to put something on her head, surely, if not just for the cameraman’s sake. The lens flare from her scalp must be like filming a solar eclipse if she stands in the wrong place.

Holly looked very nice, but then she’s clearly some kind of angel and incapable of being anything but heavenly, and she was a little more relaxed about the in-betweeny bits where she has to draw blood from the stony judges and overly emotional contestants.

This week she stopped short of adopting everyone who got rejected and blubbing into her cleavage. She even opened with the classic, “What will you be looking for tonight Will?” And I half expected him to reply,

“Somewhere to plug my iphone charger in.”

I suspect this subtle shift in attitude came about because someone high up in the BBC had been reading the reviews and sent a memo.

The memo should have been along the lines of, ‘Stop being so nice and giving everyone who manages to crawl on stage a standing ovation. We paid a fortune for those spinning chairs, and your opinions- use them both with greater effect!’

But what it probably said was something far more vague and open to interpretation because what we actually got was judges- sorry, ‘coaches’, avoiding anything like real criticism or, for that matter, a language spoken by humans and swapped some of their vacuous praise for just babbling like a Tasmanian devil, mid-exorcism.

At one point Will had to correct Jessie for saying’ boom’ when, of course, it should have been ‘zoom’ (everyone knows that, right?) and I seriously suspected they’d been sharing a back-stage ‘doobie’ with Derren Brown and Paul McKenna. He even threw a ‘knock- knock’ joke in there which nobody but him was aware of and so it took about half an hour and no small amount of TV agony to get to the end of and even THAT got a standing ovation from Danny!

It was to young Aleks who had just crooned his way onto the next round. Again, the praise was way over the top and everyone said that it had effectively ended Michael Buble’s career. Really? Some kid built like a finger puppet can come on and blow his way through one song, and suddenly the biggest selling male artist on the planet is yesterdays chips?

I suspect a slightly stronger memo might be in order.

All in all, there was some redeeming quality. Max was fantastic and so was Bo, who Danny was extremely proud of choosing for his team, (yes, well done Danny, you’re an excellent Bo Selector.. sorry) and the right people went home so all the frailty of the BBC’s dedication to bad live TV was forgotten for another week… well, not really, because The Voice was followed by ‘Planet Earth Live’ which was just about the most pointlessly live thing I’ve seen since Frankenstein’s Monster.

Oh well, see you next week and remember, if you can stomach it, and if I can get to a TV on time, you can follow my live tweets @MrIanWatson during next week’s show.

The Voice: week 3

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Do you ever get the feeling that the world has cocked a formerly deaf ear in your direction? I’m starting to suspect that those savvy telly types at The Voice are listening to tutting head shakers like me and chucking in a few tweaks, albeit too late.
Week three has been something of a turning point.


Sure, we had the usual back story nonsense that destroys all the credibility of the show. We learned, for no reason whatsoever, that Cassius Henry’s kid brother had passed away and that Kate Read’s mother was an internally beautiful inspiration to her. We also saw that young Bill Downs was going to have to postpone his wedding day if he got through- something his fiancé seemed more than happy about, presumably hoping that he’s grow out of his addiction to leather wrist bands before the big day. Most annoying of all was the backstory they pre-climaxed the show with. Poor Tyler James, erstwhile BFF of the talented but troubled junkie Amy Winehouse, made it quite clear that this was for him now, for himself, for his confidence as a singer and songwriter in his own right. Of course we only heard this from Tyler because we couldn’t see his wind-tunnel features thanks to the barrage of Amy pics they decided to thrust at us. You could almost hear the producers screaming, “Look! Amy friggin’ Winehouse everyone!”
Tyler sang about as well as anyone nailed to a plank can be expected to and, once he’d finished waving his little arms about like a dreaming grasshopper, Billiam thanked him for hitting that last note in a falsetto voice because Tom had dropped the word ‘falsetto’ into an earlier comment and it has become the word of the day- it’s all very technical I’m sure.
We also had plenty of clumsy prodding from the voices in the heads of these judges- sorry, ‘coaches,’ like when Cassius, a former TOTP performer, was instantly asked by Bill.y.boy. “What’s been your big, music career… move… to date?” Funny he didn’t ask that of Hanna the cheerleader or Jay the pizza guy isn’t it?
This week, though, there was a lot more for me to enjoy. The coaches were on top form. Any one of them could easily replace the entire panel on BGT and it would constitute a personality upgrade. In the opening credits Tom said, “I wish I had eyes on the back of my head,” and I couldn’t help thinking, “one more nip and tuck session Boyo and you probably will!” Jessie was on fire and so was Will.E.Wonka. Even Danny made me laugh.
I should really temper all this adoration though by saying that being entertaining isn’t really enough for a show of this calibre.
What I’d also like is some insight into the experience and knowledge of these ‘international music gods’ beyond shouting ‘Pick Me!’ and throwing spit bombs across the classroom at the others. This week I thought the elder statesman of the panel gave the most useful critiques which surprised me because I thought he was only there for the sex and only even noticed there was someone singing when they got loud enough to be picked up by his ear trumpet. He told Leanne Mitchel she had a lot of ‘timber’ in her voice which I’m almost certain isn’t Welsh for ‘your singing gives me wood’. He also told Hanna she didn’t ‘over do it’ and advised Bill to work on going in and out of falsetto (take notes everyone). I know it’s not much but at least it’s singing-based commentary from someone who should know.
Elsewhere, Jessie Jay told poor Ruth that there are people who can sing and then there are those who, like her, can ‘SENG!’ Which I can only guess means ‘miss every SENGle note!’ Will.E.Warmer had to explainhis laughter as not being at ‘the girl’ but at ‘Jessie’s state right now’ and I, like him, have no idea what that means.
Other parts of this week’s show were, to be fair, exactly what it claims to be about.
Joelle Moses was outstanding. Alison Brown wasn’t picked in spite of being a MOBO award winner back in 98 and Cris Grixti was able to just come out and sing without his appearance clouding anyone’s judgment. He wasn’t picked but it wasn’t because of his height or his passing resemblance to John Belushi and that, surely, is the point of ‘The Voice’.
I do still, however, have my reservations about this format.
They have decided that each coach will pick ten people for their team and that they must do this at the time they hear them sing. I can see why they would want to do anything if it meant they were seen as different to other talent shows but it just seems to be making life difficult for no reason.
Judges are becoming increasingly hamstrung, forced to hold off picking someone today for fear they may have no room left tomorrow and, vice-versa, as the end of the auditions draws near they might be forced to recruit people much weaker then those let go in earlier rounds because they’re running out of time and need to get to ten.
Imagine a scenario where Danny has seven people and there are only a handful of singers left to see. He’d have to pick everyone- regardless of talent or…what? “Sorry Danny but you only picked eight so you’re not allowed to carry on.” I can’t see that happening.
Even now, in week three, we’re seeing singers being ignored because a coach already has enough like them in their team. The whole thing has become a game of tactics and gambles with Will.I.Ever now trying to force singers onto other teams and, in the case of Alison Brown, everyone saying they were all waiting for Jessie to pick her.
“You’re amazing but I can’t pick you” is no good to a singer who deserves to go through but can’t because the rules have been made up by people more concerned with doing things differently than staying true to the premise of the show. Additional jeopardy and decision-forcing rules work for a game show but that’s meant to be precisely what this isn’t.
The Voice is meant to be a quest for the best singers and, until you’ve heard everyone sing, how can you decide who they are?

 

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!