UPDATE: I love the smell of vindication in the morning - Last night Susan Boyle didn’t win Britain’s Got Talent. She came second.
Yes, the woman can hold a tune. But so can five million other “undiscovered stars”, who just happen to have had one chin instead of three.
What is it about Susan Boyle that has mad the world go so mental? Thousands of column inches and millions of mega bites have been devoted to the SuBo phenomenon since the 47-year-old cat-loving virgin stormed the finals of Britain’s got Talent. She’s become a standard bearer for all middle-aged sad sacks who never thought they’d amount to anything. She’s been labelled a one-woman antidote to rececession-induced-depression, and arguments have raged over whether she should have a much-needed make-over (among people who regularly visit the “dermatologist” to have poisons injected into their heads).
It’s no secret that the world has got Susan Boyle fever - but I just find watching her really embarrassing.
Floating around on YouTube is a recording, its claimed, of Boyle performing passable rendition of Killing Me Softly (try not to think about “About a Boy” while you listen to it). It’s in tune, its melodic, but it’s not going to set your pants on fire.
Shut your eyes while listening to her break-out moment on TV and you’ll hear a nicely trained voice, bravely close to holding the pitch of a song known and loved by millions (she struggles on the low notes), which if you were honest with yourself you’d give about a 6.5 out of ten. That is if you’ve recovered from the shock-inducing cringe factor of her pre-song banter with the judges.
Women commentators especially have hailed the performance as being far superior than it really was. Many have argued Boyle shouldn’t change a thing about herself, as if she alone should stand up to the dark forces of the entertainment industrial complex who force talented women singers into size zero dresses and plastic surgery. They claim Boyle’s new-found fame is a win for women everywhere, who are struggling against the conspiracy of marketers who make us all feel fat and ugly. Which all sounds so terribly supportive, until you break it down to the true motive: people love Susan Boyle because she makes us feel better about ourselves.
Apparently its OK to laugh at someone’s hair, sexual experience (or distinct lack of it) and terrible dress sense if at the same time you’re giving them a standing ovation they probably don’t really deserve for a performance that, while above average, would still be considered amateur.
Those commentators with glossy tresses and line-free foreheads crapping on about how we should all love Susan Boyle just the way she is are kidding themselves, and you. Her performance that night was not a triumph - it was a side-show ally exhibition disguised by a singing voice just good enough to knock off the edges. And I’d be happy never to have to sit through it again.
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