I admit it: I'm guilty. I like American Idol. As I've remarked elsewhere, it's like aural skills class, but on TV.
Phil Ford over at Dial M for Musicology offers a good definition of pop (As you may or may not know, American Idol is a spinoff of the hit show in Britain, called Pop Idol).
I'd like to try to tackle one of the other questions he raises: namely, what makes someone bad (or, if you're a half-full type, what makes someone good)? (The question appears in his live blog
What does make someone bad? There were a few singers on the show last night who got the right notes, in the right rhythm (for the most part), yet they didn't get through. Conceivably, if someone sings (or plays) the right notes at the right time, that should be a good performance, correct?
But there's that extra something that some people don't have. Assuming you saw their performances, compare the first girl who auditioned with this girl (apologies: I'm bad with names). Both of them sang alright; both had diction problems (the second girl because of a think South American accent). The second girl got through; the first did not. Let's say both sung equally well; both had diction problems. What does the second girl have that the first didn't?
Another case: the vocal teacher guy. He wasn't terrible. Again, most of the right notes in the right places, and certainly a lot better than some of the folks we'd seen. But he didn't make it through. (Although they did say he'd be good off-Broadway. I'm sure he felt better after that.)
Simon Cowell calls it "the X factor"--that thing that some of the contestants have that others don't. It seems to be some sort of confidence/stage presence issue in combination with talent.
The question brings to mind an essay by Diderot called "The paradox of acting" (sometimes translated as "The paradox of the comedian"). In it, two men are in dialogue over what makes a great actor. Is the better actor the one who is truly sad when he's acting in a sad scene (which is authentic, but unpredictable from night to night) or is the better actor the one who remains emotionally detached, but is able to act sad night after night in the exact same way (which is less authentic but more predictable)?
It's a difficult question: how much emotion should we put into our performances? Should we allow the music to move us in the moment or should we meticulously rehearse every affective gesture in the music so that recital after recital, we can replicate it whether or not we're feeling sad or happy or whatever that day?
There are some Idol contestants that fall into the latter category (although I suspect most fall in the former). Katherine McPhee, the runner-up from last season (also a trained singer: her mother is a voice teacher) seems to be one of these cold, calculating types. You can almost see her "snap out of it" when she's done singing.
It seems to me that too many Idol contestants (and wannabe musicians in general) rely too much on their emotions, believing that an inaccurate but emotional performance is more moving than a ruthlessly accurate, calculated performance. In some cases, I suspect it is. But if I get two minutes to impress an audition committee, I don't want to have to depend on my emotions to get me through...
Phil Ford over at Dial M for Musicology offers a good definition of pop (As you may or may not know, American Idol is a spinoff of the hit show in Britain, called Pop Idol).
I'd like to try to tackle one of the other questions he raises: namely, what makes someone bad (or, if you're a half-full type, what makes someone good)? (The question appears in his live blog
What does make someone bad? There were a few singers on the show last night who got the right notes, in the right rhythm (for the most part), yet they didn't get through. Conceivably, if someone sings (or plays) the right notes at the right time, that should be a good performance, correct?
But there's that extra something that some people don't have. Assuming you saw their performances, compare the first girl who auditioned with this girl (apologies: I'm bad with names). Both of them sang alright; both had diction problems (the second girl because of a think South American accent). The second girl got through; the first did not. Let's say both sung equally well; both had diction problems. What does the second girl have that the first didn't?
Another case: the vocal teacher guy. He wasn't terrible. Again, most of the right notes in the right places, and certainly a lot better than some of the folks we'd seen. But he didn't make it through. (Although they did say he'd be good off-Broadway. I'm sure he felt better after that.)
Simon Cowell calls it "the X factor"--that thing that some of the contestants have that others don't. It seems to be some sort of confidence/stage presence issue in combination with talent.
The question brings to mind an essay by Diderot called "The paradox of acting" (sometimes translated as "The paradox of the comedian"). In it, two men are in dialogue over what makes a great actor. Is the better actor the one who is truly sad when he's acting in a sad scene (which is authentic, but unpredictable from night to night) or is the better actor the one who remains emotionally detached, but is able to act sad night after night in the exact same way (which is less authentic but more predictable)?
It's a difficult question: how much emotion should we put into our performances? Should we allow the music to move us in the moment or should we meticulously rehearse every affective gesture in the music so that recital after recital, we can replicate it whether or not we're feeling sad or happy or whatever that day?
There are some Idol contestants that fall into the latter category (although I suspect most fall in the former). Katherine McPhee, the runner-up from last season (also a trained singer: her mother is a voice teacher) seems to be one of these cold, calculating types. You can almost see her "snap out of it" when she's done singing.
It seems to me that too many Idol contestants (and wannabe musicians in general) rely too much on their emotions, believing that an inaccurate but emotional performance is more moving than a ruthlessly accurate, calculated performance. In some cases, I suspect it is. But if I get two minutes to impress an audition committee, I don't want to have to depend on my emotions to get me through...