Orange Unsigned Act 2008

I’ve refrained for several weeks from writing about T4’s Orange Unsigned Act. If you haven’t seen it, it’s basically the X Factor for “people with talent” except, of course, anyone who is truly talented would steer clear of it. The judges of the show are: Lauren Laverne, who has no taste; Simon Gavin, a thinner Johnny Vegas and head of record label A&M; and Alex James, a complete wank.

I’m not sure why this programme has tried to present itself as the antithesis to the X Factor; if that were true, then surely the acts would have some freedom of expression. Every week at least one of the bands- who got through by the skin of their teeth the previous week- modifies their music so that it is more to the taste of whatever judge dislikes them the most, in a bid to win them over. So far, I’ve only heard one act who I thought was all right: a rapper named Pirelli, who was booted off because Alex James doesn’t like rap music. So, I’m sorry British public- Alex James can’t look at music objectively and would rather inflict yet another middle-of-the-road indie band on you than someone who has some semblance of originality, because indie music is all he knows and likes. He even had a dig at Toby Sebastian, the programme’s youngest contestant, for singing a song which was “so far removed from anything I’ve ever known that I can’t enjoy it.” Toby Sebastian, by the way, is not a purveyor of other-worldly weird music. He sounds, if anything, like a young Jack Johnson. Alex James has been living on a farm for so long that his music taste starts and stops at 1995.

As with most bad programmes, it is incredulity that keeps me watching. The word “originality” is constantly bandied about, and heaped upon certain acts who are anything but original- people who have ripped off another singer’s style entirely and have the indecency to parade this theft on television (and those who watch Unsigned Act will know exactly who and what I’m talking about.)

Simon Gavin, the guy who will be signing whoever wins, was responsible for signing Duffy last year. You know, she of the whiny, caterwauling, MOST HORRIBLE VOICE I’VE EVER HEARD. So really, the winner of this competition should feel utterly ashamed that the person who thinks that they are good also enjoys Duffy’s music. If that is good music, I don’t know what bad music sounds like. Ironically, there is more pride to be garnered from winning the X Factor, where at least you can take comfort in the knowledge that you’re in the same legion as the wonderful Girls Aloud.