The Sage has been quiet of late, and I must confess that one of the less excusable reasons for this lack of activity is my unhealthy addiction to the X Factor.
As a fan and occasional reviewer of usually obscure but often wonderful independent records, the shameless commercialism and utter banality of Simon Cowell's machiavellian musical manufacturing should be anathema to me, yet strangely I love it. Some people I speak to admit to obtaining a perverse pleasure from watching the car crash TV of the early auditions, with their intriguing array of deluded wannabes, comedy pensioners and alarming Jeremy Kyle Show-style sociopaths, but lose interest once it becomes a serious singing competition. I however know I will remain in the clutches of Cowell and company until the bitter end, resigned to the realisation that I lack the strength to stop planning my Sunday evening dining to coincide with the 8pm results show.
Anyway, on to the competition's hopefuls this year, and I genuinely have no idea who is going to win. You've got your usual likeable but bland favourites (Matt, Scouse Rebecca), the Su Bo clone (Mary), the quirky but slightly irritating one (Katie) and the ridiculously bad one who keeps getting through despite being awful every week (Wagner). I like Cher, even though she invariably has an expression like she's about to headbutt someone outside a kebab shop. She's a bit edgier and more 'street' than the show's normal slushy balladeers, which is my way of saying I've never heard of most of the songs she performs because I'm too old, but she proved with Shakespear's Sister this week that she can really sing too.
Paige seems a nice lad, but he won't win because he isn't pretty enough and dresses like Winston Churchill one week and a hungover student the next. One Direction are presumably so named because of their dancing skills (or rather lack of them, as all they do is shuffle around awkwardly on the spot hoping that noone notices only Liam can sing) while TreyC has little new to offer other than parents who can't spell and Aiden is a smug and deeply annoying Mark Lamarr lookalike who's nowhere near as good as he thinks he is.
Presiding over it all is the imperious Mr Cowell, whose withering assessments of the contestants remain the X Factor's highlight. Occasionally you see in his eyes the look of a shark eyeing up its next prey as an eager young starlet walks on stage for the first time and shows signs they could potentially be his next cash cow. 'Nation's sweetheart' Cheryl increasingly resembles a Geordie mannequin; Louis seems permanently on the brink of bursting into tears; Dannii appears rather disinterested before randomly chanting 'you rock!' while waving a fist in the air after one of her acts manages to sing in tune for the whole two minute duration of their performance.
It all makes for great entertainment, but it's time to pick a winner. Personally I hope Mary does it; a genuinely pleasant, humble lady with an absolutely belting voice - but it won't happen. In the recent past, we've seen charismatic Rhydian inexplicably defeated by the instantly forgettable Leon, and the inoffensive but dull Alexandra saw off the far more interesting Diana Vickers a couple of years ago too. For that reason, my money's on Rebecca - the judges love her, she has a story (young single mother from the rough inner city with confidence issues) and she has another one of those technically perfect but utterly undistinctive Whitney/Aretha/Mariah inspired voices that will sell records by the bucketload. Cher to finish second, with One Direction third. You heard it here first...
Regards
The Sage
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