Mass indignity on Singapore Idol

I just sat through this week's [May 28's] Singapore Idol, where the 60 humans picked out from the mass auditions by four judges on May 21 became 28 - 14 guys and 14 gals. Voting by members of the public begins from the first Sunday in June.

I cringed to see the wheedling and pleading and tears from those who didn't make the cut - a 'performance' right in front of the judges and on national TV. What's with them?? Some actually thought they could sing - thin vocal quality, shaky (and even off-key) notes and poor vocal control notwithstanding.

Have they no self-awareness? Do they have friends and relatives around who are too polite or too biased or too tone-deaf to tell them they can't sing and that they should really find some other vocation in life?

It's not just self-awareness they don't have - they don't have dignity either. Four judges tell you that you aren't good enough or you aren't ready. Just say "Thank you" and make a quiet exit, for heaven's sake.

Instead, they turn on the tap and blubber away. Or they turn on their Excuse-Making Machine. Here are some that I remember hearing in the past two weeks, when those machines were in full churn:

'Maybe I chose the wrong song. Maybe it would be better if I sang another?'

'Maybe it's because of my sore throat.'

'Maybe I was too nervous.'

... all excuses under the sun except 'Maybe I Just Cannot Sing To Save My Life.'

Good grief, do they know how pathetic they look when they plead and beg, with or without tears? Or do they know the TV cameras are rolling and are just playing to the cameras, hamming it all up because it makes 'good' TV?

[Here, the assumption is that reality TV is good TV, but that's another can of worms altogether. Don't even get me started on it.]

And saying that the judges don't know better - like that sad sack Michael Buble-wannabe did - is such poor form. If you don't think the judges know better, keep it to yourself. The four of them have, for right or wrong reasons, been picked as judges. To blame them when you didn't make the cut is to behave like the proverbial lousy workman who blames his tools when his product is fucked up.

Not to say I'm a fan of the judges, heck I'm not even a big fan of the 'Idol' series. But hey, I recognise that the quartet bring some credentials to the table - as record-maker/talent scout, song writer, singer and long-time radio programme producer. They are there, like it or not. Accept their decisions with some grace. As with all contests, "the judges' decision is final".

Many of these young humans who are taking part have really one-track minds. They have failed to see that 'Idol' is just one way to get a foot in the door to a singing career. If they really have the talent, they would have been talent-spotted some how, don't you think - OK, maybe not in 2006, but somehow, somewhere, some time?

I remember the 'Talentime' series of years ago. Contestants came up, sang their song, and if they weren't good enough, they were knocked out. That was that. The best survived till the finals.

Is there something different about these dream-chasers today? OK, so they have dreams of seeing their names up in lights, but many of them behave like they have no Plan B when they are told they aren't good enough. One suspects all they think about is that a singing career is a quick ticket to fame and riches. [Oh, they could be so wrong. Do they know a singing career can be stopped dead in its tracks by fickle fans, poor career advice, personal scandal and goodness knows what else?]

What does it mean to want something - stardom, fame, money - so badly that one cracks into a million pieces, cries on national TV and loses all shred of personal dignity to go in chase of this pot of gold, even when clearly undeserved?

Have they no mental strength [testicular fortitude - that is, balls!] to take another route, or to find another purpose to life?

These young humans should just take a leaf from us moggies. At least we go through life with a quiet grace, no matter the hand that is dealt us - a shitty one like a life on the streets, or the high life, where one dines on gourmet catfood off a crystal plate and is included in the family will.