Voice breaking
Sparkle in Hill’s Eyes
WE’RE all agreed that the blind auditions are the only part worth tuning in for.
Once the chairs stop spinning, the viewers understandably abandon The Voice. That process can be hastened only if the blind auditions aren’t blind at all.
Say, for instance, if a kid named Jake Shakeshaft begins rasping out Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud to an acoustic guitar. And Rita Ora asks the audience: “Is he playing?” as Will. i. am gesticulates strumming and playing the keyboard while nodding and shaking his head to the front row for answers.
Thereby defeating the entire sodding point, as per last night. An infuriating development that exacerbated a catalogue of niggles with this show.
Nepotism has crept in, with host Marvin Humes’s mate Marc Armstrong and the brother of James Carpenter “who works on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show”, Tom, auditioning. He arrived, as Matt Smith’s bow-tied Doctor Who, with the first sob story of the series: “I’ve got Tourette’s,” and only – HEH! – singing can – HEH! – stop it. Equally annoying is the editing, which remains almost non-existent.
I’m convinced the closest the original recordings get to trimming is when they’re shown the cutting-room door sign.
It means we must endure dispensable cack, like everyone singing along to the Rainbow theme; Ricky Wilson performing Orville the Duck’s I Wish I Could Fly for food-metaphor spouter Will.i.am; and the Black Eyed Pea-llock going through the telly-unfriendly process of following naturists Billy and Martine Bottle on Twitter.
Nugget
That pair aren’t the first 30 or 40-something wacky new-age couple to grace the stage. In fact the bookings have become as repetitive as the show’s success rate in never unearthing a star.
In just two episodes we’ve had yet more female twins, Welsh auditionees playing The Valleys card for Tom Jones and acts dropped by record labels, such as KFC chicken advert singer Hannah Symons, who Will told: “You’re going to be at the O2.” To see who in concert, he didn’t say.
But possibly Rita Ora, now in the seat formerly occupied by Kylie who was a success last year but, tellingly, isn’t missed one iota. It almost doesn’t matter who occupies those spinny chairs. The Voice has much deeper, inherent problems.
As Ora said: “I’m starting to understand it now. Everybody can sing that comes in. Everybody.”
Therein lies The Voice’s main handicap. Wave upon wave of adequate singers makes not for entertaining TV. The comedy turns are nowhere. You’ll never see a Wagner or a Stevi Ritchie here.
It means that everyone’s nice to everyone, like Ricky Wilson who didn’t spin to Jake Shakeshaft but imparted this nugget: “We give constructive criticism but I ain’t got any.” And that’s why we pay them the big bucks.