A Christmas Boyle

I don’t normally like to discuss these things, as by doing so makes me acknowledge that they exist (which I wish they didn’t), and also by seriously considering their existence gives them a gravity they do not warrant. I assure you that I would prefer not to talk about it as I believe that if you ignore something, it will eventually go away (I am sure that this current fascination will soon wither, as these things do not have enough substance to last long).
Susan Boyle’s rise to fame is the model every undiscovered musician the world over wishes for. After decades of singing to yourself and a small select group of friends, you are given a break. In the past this break came from either your demo being picked up by a record company or their A n R man showing up at your gig with a contract. This kind of break guaranteed nothing really, not even an audience, but this was very desirable and it was a seemingly attainable goal, because it was based on your own belief in your talent (however deluded that may be).
Now imagine you enter a talent contest and your break happens before millions of people. Consider that you can sing, but look like you really can’t. With an audience’s collected expectation at its lowest, you sing well and the perceived skill you have is suddenly magnified a thousand-fold. You couldn’t ask for more.
Added to this is the backlash of pure sympathy from the initial cutting remarks. Sympathy plus the misjudged perception of your ordinary talent, makes you out to be prince of princes, when you are really just a nice frog who can gribbet with the best of them.
Fantastic.
However, add into this fairy story the devil incarnate, Mr Cowell. Not a talent scout, not an artist, but a business man: a banker in every sense of the word. I would be happy for Ms Boyle if it wasn’t for the fact that for every halfpenny she makes, you can guarantee Mr C is making a pound sterling. He gets richer from every sympathetic download and has milked this opportunity for everything he can. From the initial staged ugly duckling to swan routine, to opening doors in America.
I guess the important thing to remember is that when people are buying the CD, they are buying into the story not the product itself. Ms Boyle can sing, she can hold a tune, she has a voice unquestionably. But it is not really that special. What has captured the imagination of so many is the way her story has unfolded, and unfortunately this is wholly manufactured. It is fake, it is part of Mr Cowell’s unstoppable marketing machine. It is manipulative and it is ugly. And worst of all it serves only Simon Cowell. The public seem quite content making his pile of money larger, as the rest of us suffer the worst depression in decades. I still wonder why this is. I do not really believe that the record buying public are really that blind to Cowell’s sleight of hand.
I wish Ms Boyle happiness. I wish for Mr Cowell the fate of Mr Scrooge before his redemption… the money boxes and chains being forged for Mr Cowell would stretch around the world many times, weighed down by every plastic disc of poor quality he helped manufacture. Merry Christmas.