I Don’t Like American Idol

My fervent desire was to begin this by declaring American Idol the last straw breaking the back of the final proverbial camel left striving against cultural fluffiness, moral toxicity and the like. I came to the conclusion this may be a bit strong. But I still find it unpleasant and icky.

Carrie Underwood is the only positive thing that has ever come from this program. Seriously. And even she has been navigating more Britney & Christina in the style department lately than a young fellow with standards ought to hope for. It’s emotional.

This program represents two things that bug me as I would imagine a Belgian lace producer would be bugged by cheap Canadian imitators (I have no knowledge of the quality of Canadian lace, I’m just trying to be creative, you understand). First, although the program would have you believe it is the greatest talent show on earth, it has incorporated a hearty fare of the abysmal creature that is the reality show. And second – it celebrates and advances the triumph of style over substance.

So let’s cut right to the heart of this – Belgian lace production… No? No, never mind. That was just a dangling analogous metaphor.

REALITY TELEVISION. This is awful stuff, guys. I mean, seriously. It makes its presence known all over the fruited plain of Idol from the “intense” deliberations of the judges to the incredibly revealing, endearing (nope, not…) personal interviews with the contestants. I do not have any interest in hearing these folk psyche themselves up, tell us how great they are and that their destiny is stardom. It is nauseating. I am not even slightly intrigued by the playful dynamics betwixt Simon and Paula. This is neither entertaining nor enlightening.

A huge portion of each program is devoted to allowing us access into the real lives and real stories of these folks.  We are allowed a peek at the thought process of individuals who wish to make the world of popular music their home. What a goal and what a dream, baby. In the cases where there is real talent and a humble person in possession of the talent on display, we are proffered an over-fluffed and schmaltzy tale that deflates the good effect of the good qualities. Further boiling it down, the real crux of my continuing angst toward reality TV is that if this is indeed the reality of today’s human condition, I prefer to live in a fantasy land.

Second point: this show is all about form and so very little about substance. It showcases and thrives on pyrotechnic performance and dwells hardly at all on musical substance or lyrical substance. Now here I must admit that my Eastern Montana Mennonite-ness is rearing its head. I would rather listen to things Fanny Crosby composed than those written up by most modern writers after all. So a sweetly sung ballad is more my style than the high-flying fare that is more a yell than a dulcet tone. My point though, is much more foundational. In the lyrics to the songs that are sung, in the style in which they’re sung, and even in the garb of the performers, the importance placed is on style and not on substance.

Although much (if not most) of the preceding is a matter of taste, I also think there’s some major morality at play here. I’d love to hear what you think, and perhaps the fodder is present for another post.

Since I’m more angsty than my friends and fellow geeks, I’d like to volunatarily point out that my views are most assuredly not neccessarily shared by FG or its various authors. Well, they are shared by this author. That is not the point. Have a tremendous evening.