I don't get the X-Factor. I don't get the fact that the lead story in the two biggest-selling newspapers in Scotland was about how a girl from Fife didn't get picked to appear in the live shows. I don't get that the same story was talked about and tweeted about and Facebooked about for ages on the morning radio show.
It's a celebration of mediocrity. Classic songs are reduced to bland karaoke by people whose talent is about right for a cruise ship or a holiday camp. With the exception of Leona Lewis, the majority of winners sink without trace, any talent they had ruined by the mass produced pop of the Cowell song sweat shops.
There are the now annual scandals which generate column inches of indignation and another million viewers. It is manipulative almost beyond belief and the British public lap it up.
Add to that the overly sentimental stories of life's hardships, the yearly buying of the Christmas number one and Louis Walsh and you have a recipe for television that makes me feel physically sick.
Despite all those things that should make everyone want to reach for the remote to change the channel, it remains the most popular show on British television. ITV and Simon Cowell make millions and the public are so busy talking about it they don't notice anything else.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I don't get it because I fell in love with music that had real emotion behind it. If the X-Factor had been around since the sixties would The Beatles and The Stones ever have been successful? Would Bowie have challenged the world with his asexual brand of glam rock? Would punk have been strangled at birth by the knot of commercialism? It's a scary thought and with the last truly momentous shift in music being nearly twenty years ago we could be looking at bland being what dominates music.
But have hope, there are still people trying to produce music that matters, it's just that you have to look a wee bit harder.
No comments:
Post a Comment