My stuff and your stuff: I write books, produce music, rant a bit, and in the meantime review things other people have done. With words.

The Voice – February 2016


There are two types of UK residents: those who watch The Voice and those who don't watch The Voice. I don't watch The Voice. But I have watched The Voice. One single episode of one series. It was more than enough to convince me of the show's worth in the universe: absolutely fucking nothing. So I decided to try the new line-up for 2016. Just briefly.


Starring oddball munchkin, softcock Ricky Wilson, freaky convict Boy George and ooh-how's-yer-father Paloma Faith, it's a definitive exercise in how to make the shittest TV show possible. "How can we possibly make this worse?" wonder the producers. Well, that's simple: take genuine legend Tom Jones, and all his knicker-wetting charm, and replace it with former heroin-slurping, kidnapping reggae cockflap Boy George.


Now I don't want to sound too judgemental but our George is not the kind of person who should be on television, except of course on the news when he's revealed to have got a Mars bar stuck up his arse or something. I don't personally dislike him, because I don't know him, although I do know that from what I've seen of him I don't want my kids looking at him as someone who is even close to being a role model. Why is he on the TV? He's a convict, a drug addict, and I wouldn't call what he did in the 80s or beyond anything resembling talent. If he does have a talent it's in making seriously bad decisions.


And so to Ricky, whose northern laddish charm and waistcoats seem to have won over the British public despite the fact this guy has no discernable talent whatsoever. He's a singer in a 'rock' band. Rock in the loosest sense. It's clean-cut, "look mummy I'm in a band" style stage prancing he excels in. The Kaiser Chiefs sound is just too middle of the road. And so, it seems, is Ricky. He seems like a genuinely smashing chap, which is fine and all that, but how he is deemed to be qualified to judge talent, and go on to "coach" that talent is a mystery. Yes, he has music industry connections and knowledge, but what is he actually good at?


Paloma Faith replaces Rita Ora. Now they both can sing. There's no question about that., despite dressing (and behaving) like a child also has chops in music production. So half of the judging panel has some kind of reason to be there. But the way it's done is so crushingly bad that it begs the question: what's the point?


Scenario A: great singer gets up and performs. Someone presses their red button to turn round and then fawns over them. If anyone else turns round they also fawn. Hugs are exchanged. Promises of "working hard", etc. Then those who didn't turn round will make excuses. "Oh, it's not that you're a bad singer, it's just I couldn't quite see how I could work with you." What they fail to say is: "Because I'm a twat."


Scenario B: no one turns round. Singer is left standing on the stage like a lemon while everyone makes an excuse. Wankstains.


The fact is, a good number of the performers are miles better than at least half of the judges. Yet they are at the mercy of two talentless twerps and a couple of veterans who should know better. Hopes are dashed; hopes of often very good performers, that is. It's just simply unnecessary. An entirely pointless exercise which has a negative effect on people who crave positivity.


The Voice is shit.