tag:theconversation.com,2011:/us/topics/talent-shows-7733/articlesTalent shows – The Conversation2021-08-06T11:33:44Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1653662021-08-06T11:33:44Z2021-08-06T11:33:44ZThe X Factor: how the star-making formula show lost its shine<p>The UK channel ITV <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/joshwilson/2021/07/29/the-x-factor-cancelled-after-17-years/#:%7E:text=U.K.%20broadcaster%20ITV%20said%20in,celebrity%20edition%20the%20following%20year.">has announced</a> that it has no plans to continue The X Factor. In its 17 years on the air, the show produced some enormous pop stars, including boy band One Direction and girl group Little Mix. </p>
<p>At its height in 2010, the programme’s average audience was <a href="https://www.broadcastnow.co.uk/x-factor-matches-148m-peak/5007302.article">14 million viewers</a>, exactly that of the UK’s two main TV soap operas, Eastenders and Coronation Street. And the comparison does not end there.</p>
<p>The X Factor was a formulaic show – a variant on the growing trend for reality shows in which “ordinary people” were filmed as they grappled with, and reacted to, challenging environments. Even so, its roots were in the long history of TV talent shows, among them Opportunity Knocks and New Faces. These were big shows in their time (1960-1990), and also produced stars. The difference between X Factor and its predecessors was, firstly, that it concentrated on pop music (the earlier shows, especially Opportunity Knocks, were “variety” ones, and tended to succeed with comedians). </p>
<p>The second major, and arguably defining, difference was that the X Factor was very much a soap opera in its own right.</p>
<p>From the outset, the show encouraged viewers to take sides -– both with the acts and with the judges themselves. This fomenting of rivalry was a deliberate strategy. Before the show debuted in September 2004, The Sun ran a two-page spread headlined “Inside telly’s nastiest reality show”. The feature concentrated on a supposed deep loathing between the three judges: Simon Cowell, Sharon Osbourne and Louis Walsh. In this way, even before the public could evaluate the new show, the parameters for its reception had been established by careful marketing.</p>
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<p>The premise of The X Factor differed from its immediate forerunners Get Your Act Together, Pop Idol and Popstars, by giving the judges a central role in the audition and “development” process. The “reality” dimension of the show was, then, that the winners of the auditions were “managed” by individual judges. The management process was filmed and broadcast as part of the show, notably in the “boot camp” segment. Viewers aligned with contestants not just based on the musical performances, but on the emotional behaviour shown behind the scenes.</p>
<h2>Making a hit</h2>
<p>Cowell was central to this orchestration. Having been born into music industry privilege -– his father was a director of EMI (at that time, the UK’s leading record label) – he worked for EMI publishing after leaving boarding school. He moved on to create an independent record company and, when this failed, was taken on by BMG Records (also then a major record company). </p>
<p>Cowell’s success came with novelty records spun off from children’s TV series, middle-of-the-road crooners and boy bands. Cowell’s own singles releases by Robson and Jerome and by the Teletubbies <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/datablog/2012/nov/04/uk-million-selling-singles-full-list">sold more than</a> Hey Jude.</p>
<p>This exposure to huge but unfashionable music markets gave Cowell the inside track when it came to devising a pop music talent show. </p>
<p>What his audience identified with was the look and the story of hopeful, talented unknowns. This proved compulsive viewing for almost two decades, but familiarity can always breed contempt. The X Factor showed that pop music can be a conservative as well as a disruptive cultural force.</p>
<p>The show was a skillful contrivance, but it was lucky in its timing, coinciding with the growing crisis of the recording industry, and the rise of social media.</p>
<p>The recording industry dominated the wider music industry from the 1960s onwards. In the UK this was initially attributed to the huge impact of the Beatles and then by the Beatles-inspired switch from the recorded single to the far more lucrative recorded album as the <a href="https://www.palgrave.com/gp/book/9780230291485">main music commodity</a>.</p>
<p>But illegal file-sharing and streaming wrecked the industry’s business model. Major record companies failed to keep up, losing their “star-making” power and The X Factor stepped into this increasing void.</p>
<h2>Star power</h2>
<p>It is unquestionable that The X Factor produced stars, but the increasing popularity of social media helped their star power skyrocket. </p>
<p>The show paired “reality” elements with viewers’ desire to engage with and imitate celebrity lifestyles and values. With social media, it gave ordinary people the chance to become visible, and attract and influence followers.</p>
<p>The X Factor’s promotion of updated, but equally conservative “celebrity” pop music, was an irresistible force for the show’s first 10 years. The signing policy of the major record companies – their decisions about what genres and artists to favour – fell in behind these hit acts.</p>
<p>The X Factor replicated and exaggerated the turn to “manufactured” pop music with a guaranteed “profile” – Ariana Grande, for example, found fame first via a <a href="https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/ariana-grande-went-nickelodeon-star-145446469.html">TV programme</a> and then to pop stardom. </p>
<p>But as the seasons went on, it became clear that annually reheating the same dish was yielding diminishing returns. What, ultimately, was the difference between Leona Lewis and Alexandra Burke, or between Olly Murs and Matt Cardle? </p>
<p>All that The X Factor showed, ultimately, was that there were many young people who could sing in tune and dance in time. The show’s winners became indistinguishable from one another. Their success depended not on any “X Factor” of their own, but on writing teams who decided whether to serve them with hit tracks.</p>
<p>The show’s audience decreased rapidly in its second decade as attention turned to a new phenomenon – the online <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqnZymb84W0">celebrity influencer</a>. </p>
<p>Another coinciding global trend was the celebrity <a href="https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9781315776774-12/pop-idols-artificial-beauty-affective-fan-relationships-south-korea-joanna-elfving-hwang">idol manufacturing culture</a> in Asian countries. This is the model for hugely successful Korean pop (K-pop) and Japanese pop (J-pop) bands – young people are signed by production companies and moulded into pop superstars.</p>
<p>The international success of K-pop <a href="https://www.vox.com/culture/2018/6/13/17426350/bts-history-members-explained">boy band BTS</a> – with <a href="https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2018/8/idol-earns-bts-the-record-for-most-viewed-music-video-online-in-24-hours-538964">world record-setting</a> online engagement and downloads – is a pop culture phenomenon that could not have been predicted in The X Factor’s heyday. </p>
<p>All of this occurred in the age of the smartphone and ultimate viewer control over what to watch and when to watch it. The idea that an entire nation would sit glued to its screens to discover which one of an identikit lineup actually possessed “the X Factor” has lost its force. Instead, the nation has fragmented into millions of users who switch restlessly between social media sites, uploading recordings of themselves as they go. </p>
<p>Perhaps, ultimately, The X Factor’s legacy is to have encouraged everyone to believe that they, themselves, have an “X Factor” – if only enough people would hit “like” and acknowledge it.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/165366/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Mike Jones does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>After 17 years, The X Factor is no more, but its success gives us an insight into the changing recording industry.Mike Jones, Course Director MA (Music Industries), University of LiverpoolLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1595332021-04-23T04:36:24Z2021-04-23T04:36:24ZAll my loving: Young Talent Time still glows, 50 years since first airing on Australian TV<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/396681/original/file-20210423-22-fhj0hz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=30%2C206%2C2873%2C2764&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://photos-cdn.aap.com.au/Image/20060831000015089030?path=/aap_dev2/imagearc/2006/11-18/4a/9c/79/aapimage-5c9dzyqrj1y1fhquw9ue_layout.jpg">AAP/Ten</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>This weekend marks 50 years since the television premiere of <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0243097/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Young Talent Time</a> — a pastel-coloured, saccharine-sweet mix of talent competition, pop music tribute show and star factory.</p>
<p>Accordingly, the National Film and Sound Archive (NSFA) has <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/collection/curated/young-talent-time-50th-anniversary">curated a digital tribute to the program</a> that is in turns nostalgic and cringe-worthy. There is also a <a href="https://www.adelaidefestivalcentre.com.au/events/young-talent-time-50th-anniversary-reunion-special/">50th anniversary stage show</a> in the works. </p>
<p>Young Talent Time (YTT) first aired April 24, 1971 and ran for 18 years. It was launched at a time when music television was still dominated by local performers doing covers of (or even just lip synching) hits from the American and British hit parades. </p>
<p>YTT was Saturday evening viewing for a generation of families. It helped shape not only its young stars but also viewers’ musical tastes.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Doing the Neutron dance and partying like it was 1999 (even though it was much earlier than that.)</span></figcaption>
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<h2>The real thing</h2>
<p>Produced and created by Johnny Young, YTT was a play on his surname as well as the faces on screen. Young was a record producer, composer and pop star who had already appeared on music television as a young (sorry) performer and host of <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3877794/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Go Show</a> and <a href="https://televisionau.com/search/label/club-seventeen">Club Seventeen</a>. </p>
<p>He had a sweet face and voice, and was exactly what the teenagers of the day wanted, while still being clean-cut enough to avoid worrying their parents.</p>
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<p>Perhaps Young’s biggest claim to fame (pre-YTT) was writing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wylEB-P76nA">The Real Thing</a>, Russell Morris’ hit song that still stands as the sound of a psychedelic generation and movement. The song is also remarkable for Young’s collaboration with another television icon, track producer and future Countdown host <a href="https://www.profiletalent.com.au/talent/molly-meldrum/">Ian “Molly” Meldrum</a>.</p>
<p>Unlike <a href="https://www.countdownmemories.com/beginning_index.html">Countdown</a> (which hit screens a few years later) or <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0343240/fullcredits">Bandstand</a>, YTT wasn’t necessarily about the stars of today but the stars of tomorrow. The idea drew some inspiration from <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047757/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_5">The Mickey Mouse Club</a> on US television and extended off screen with Johnny Young Talent Schools popping up (and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/johnnyyoungtalentschool/">still operating</a>) around the country. </p>
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<p>Sure, there were other talent quests around, but YTT was more of a celebration rather than a cut-throat competition. </p>
<p>The “musical family” feeling was built into each episode with its regular all-in finale singalong of The Beatles’ <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSpiwK5fig0">All My Loving</a>. The host, who today goes by <a href="https://tvtonight.com.au/2021/04/young-talent-time-50-we-were-perfect-programming.html">John Young</a>, recalls, “People used to tune in, just to see that”, tempting us to imagine a whole nation apparently tuned in for wholesome entertainment. It was always followed by Young’s smiley send-off: “Goodnight Australia!” </p>
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<a href="https://theconversation.com/countdown-just-nostalgia-or-still-breaking-new-ground-83963">Countdown - just nostalgia, or still breaking new ground?</a>
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<h2>Learning to love local talent</h2>
<p>Beyond the bright young things, catchy tunes and shiny sets were significant developments in the Australian entertainment industry. The show’s long run served as a bridge between old and new forms of music television. </p>
<p>When YTT began, radio was still king and <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/853189?seq=1">Australian artists</a> were largely dependent on international markets and trends to make their way. With the odd exception (like Young himself), the Australian music industry still prioritised songs and artists that had “made it” overseas.</p>
<p>By the end of YTT’s run, the tide was starting to turn. Local artists and audiences wanted to see and hear more of their own performing their own work. </p>
<p>The biggest stars from the show, including Debra Byrne, Danni Minogue (and sister Kylie Minogue who appeared as an occasional YTT sibling guest) and Tina Arena, all went on to have careers presenting work in their own distinctive voices. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Dannii Minogue and Bevan Addinsall are resplendent in a sunshiney Footloose cover.</span></figcaption>
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<p>There was a limited <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2553426/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2">2012 YTT reboot</a> hosted by Rob Mills, but it didn’t really take. Music television today like <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/triplej/news/musicnews/find-out-whos-playing-season-3-the-set-abc-tv/13292442">The Set</a>, which will start its new season on YYT’s anniversary, is dominated by original work by a diverse range of Australian artists. </p>
<p>Past viewers have often wondered: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p285V-15hys">where the YTT stars are now</a>? Some of its stars have <a href="https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/music/the-voice-australia-young-talent-time-star-joey-dee-auditions/news-story/71ea29f13653c441c62dbb5e5572a778">returned to television talent quests</a> to try their luck. Others have had the good grace to laugh at their younger selves (hello, <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/doublej/music-reads/features/beven-the-musical-oral-history/11890902">Bevan the Musical</a>). </p>
<p>But how many snapshots into the lives of “ordinary Australians” remain captured in the YTT archive? For every Tina, Danni, Bevan or Vince, there were thousands of kids in the audience at home or in the studio cheering them on and connecting through music. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">A cast of impossibly fresh faces, nailing the hits of the day.</span></figcaption>
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<p>The <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/collection/curated/young-talent-time-50th-anniversary">NFSA celebration</a> is understandably chock full of Minogues and mini-epic feats of costuming, choreography and pizzazz. But somewhere in storage there might be the many audition tapes, one-off appearances, studio audience snippets and letters to the stars. Not to mention the DIY shows in backyards, bedrooms and playgrounds around the country, perhaps captured on cassette or VHS. What could we learn from those wonderful pieces? </p>
<p>Young Talent Time was significant for its national reach and accessibility — a way for audiences, especially young audiences, to connect through music. While there were many flashes in the pan that fizzled, others have continued to burn bright. The joy for the audience (then and now) is the glow of having a go. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/michael-gudinski-how-a-titan-of-the-industry-shaped-australian-music-for-five-decades-156290">Michael Gudinski: how a titan of the industry shaped Australian music for five decades</a>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Liz Giuffre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Where are they now? It’s half a century since Young Talent Times aired on Australian television. It changed its young stars and audiences.Liz Giuffre, Senior Lecturer in Communication, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1228962019-09-05T14:19:52Z2019-09-05T14:19:52ZStrictly Come Dancing: research shows that the luck of the draw matters in talent shows<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/290925/original/file-20190904-175696-pgyc6z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Who goes first: the 2019 Strictly Come Dancing line-up.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">BBC Pictures</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>A viscountess, a radio DJ, a reality star, a vlogger, a comedian, several sportspeople and an assortment of actors and presenters. These, more or less, are the celebrities lined up to compete in the <a href="https://www.radiotimes.com/news/tv/2019-09-04/strictly-2019-contestants-confirmed-lineup/">2019 season of Strictly Come Dancing</a>. </p>
<p>Outside their day jobs, few people know much about them yet. But over the 13 weeks or so of shows up until Christmas, viewers will at least learn how well the contestants can dance. But how much will their success in the competition have to do with their foxtrot and to what extent will it be, literally, the luck of the draw that sees the victors lift the trophy in December?</p>
<p>A <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S016726810900211X">seminal study</a> published in 2010 looked at public voting at the end of episodes of the various Idol television pop singing contests and found that singers who were later on in the bill got a disproportionately higher share of the public vote than those who had preceded them. </p>
<p>This was explained as a “<a href="https://psychology.iresearchnet.com/social-psychology/decision-making/recency-effect/">recency effect</a>” – meaning that those performing later are more recent in the memory of people who were judging or voting. Interestingly, a different study, of wine tasting, suggested that there is also a significant “<a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1467-9280.2009.02453.x">primacy effect</a>” which favours the wines that people taste first (as well, to some extent, as last). </p>
<h2>A little bias is in order</h2>
<p>What would happen if the evaluation of each performance was carried out immediately after each performance instead of at the end – surely this would eliminate the benefit of going last as there would be equal recency in each case? The problem in implementing this is that the public need to see all the performers before they can choose which of them deserves their vote.</p>
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<span class="caption">Dress rehearsal for Strictly Come Dancing, August 2019.</span>
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<p>You might think the solution is to award a vote to each performer immediately after each performance – by complementing the public vote with the scores of a panel of expert judges. And, of course, Strictly Come Dancing (or Dancing with the Stars if you are in the US) does just this. So there should be no “recency effect” in the expert voting – because the next performer does not take to the stage until the previous performer has been scored. </p>
<p>We might expect in this case that the later performers taking to the dance floor should have no advantage over earlier performing contestants in the expert evaluations – and, in particular, there should be no “last dance” advantage.</p>
<p>We decided to <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0165176519300370">test this out</a> using a large data set of every performance ever danced on the UK and US versions of the show – going right back to the debut show in 2004. Our findings, published in <a href="http://irep.ntu.ac.uk/id/eprint/35773/">Economics Letters</a>, proved not only surprising, but almost a bit shocking.</p>
<h2>Last shall be first</h2>
<p>Contrary to expectations, we found the same sequence order bias by the expert panel judges – who voted after each act – as by the general public, voting after all performances had concluded. </p>
<p>We applied a range of statistical tests to allow for the difference in quality of the various performers and as a result we were able to exclude quality as a reason for getting high marks. This worked for all but the opening spot of the night, which we found was generally filled by one of the better performers.</p>
<p>So the findings matched the Idol study in demonstrating that the last dance slot should be most coveted, but that the first to perform also scored better than expected. This resembles a J-curve where there are sequence order effects such that the first and later performing contestants disproportionately gained higher expert panel scores.</p>
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<p>Although we believe the production team’s choice of opening performance may play a role in this, our best explanation of the key sequence biases is as a type of “grade inflation” in the expert panel’s scoring. In particular, we interpret the “order” effect as deriving from studio audience pressure – a little like the <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1469029201000334">published evidence</a> of unconscious bias exhibited by referees in response to spectator pressure. The influence on the judges of increasing studio acclaim and euphoria as the contest progresses to a conclusion is likely to be further exacerbated by the proximity of the judges to the audience.</p>
<p>When the votes from the general public augment the expert panel scores – as is the case in Strictly Come Dancing – the biases observed in the expert panel scores are amplified. </p>
<p>All of which means that, based on past series, the best place to perform is last and second is the least successful place to perform.</p>
<p>The implications of this are worrying if they spill over into the real world. Is there an advantage in going last (or first) into the interview room for a job – even if the applicants are evaluated between interviews? The same effects could have implications in so many situations, such as sitting down in a dentist’s chair or doctor’s surgery, appearing in front of a magistrate or having your examination script marked by someone with a huge pile of work to get through.</p>
<p>One study, <a href="https://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/14/time-and-judgment/">reported in the New York Times in 2011</a>, found that experienced parole judges granted freedom about 65% of the time to the first prisoner to appear before them on a given day, and the first after lunch – but to almost nobody by the end of a morning session. </p>
<p>So our research confirms what has long been suspected – that the order in which performers (and quite possibly interviewees) appear can make a big difference. So it’s now time to look more carefully at the potential dangers this can pose more generally for people’s daily lives – and what we can do to best address the problem.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/122896/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Leighton Vaughan Williams does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>A close look at 15 years of the popular dance competition shows that people dancing last have a distinct advantage.Leighton Vaughan Williams, Professor of Economics and Finance. Director of the Betting Research Unit and the Political Forecasting Unit at Nottingham Business School, Nottingham Trent UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/565552016-04-07T09:51:11Z2016-04-07T09:51:11ZThe most American pop culture phenomenon of them all<p>“American Idol” was “born” exactly nine months after 9/11. The timing was significant, because since its premiere on June 11, 2002, the show has become an integral part of the country’s coping strategy – a kind of guidebook for our difficult entry into the 21st century. </p>
<p>By carefully curating a distinctly American mix tape of music, personal narratives and cultural doctrine, “American Idol” has painted a portrait of who we think we are, especially in the aftermath of tragedy, war and economic turmoil.</p>
<p>As the show concludes after 15 seasons, it’s worth looking at how the past and present collided to create a cultural phenomenon – and how we’re seeing shades of the show’s influence in today’s chaotic presidential race.</p>
<h2>All our myths bundled into one</h2>
<p>The premise of “American Idol” – the idea that an ordinary person might be recognized as extraordinary – is firmly rooted in a national myth of meritocracy. </p>
<p>This national narrative includes the dime-novel, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horatio_Alger_myth">rags-to-riches fairy tales</a> of Horatio Alger, which were intended to uplift Americans struggling to get by after the Civil War. Then there was the <a href="https://www.yahoo.com/news/invention-american-dream-000000727.html">American Dream</a> catchphrase – first coined in 1931 by James Truslow Adams in his book “The Epic of America” – that promoted an ideal of economic mobility during the hopeless years of the Depression. </p>
<p>Indeed, decades before host Ryan Seacrest handed out his first golden ticket to the first golden-throated farm girl waiting tables while waiting to be “discovered,” we’d been going to Hollywood in our dreams and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Jwgp_DyhJQ">on screen</a>.</p>
<p>The show has shown us archetypes of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSDkzIQhzMk">immigrant narratives</a>, like when Season Three contestant Leah Labelle spoke of her Bulgarian family’s defection to North America during Communist rule. It has demonstrated how to rely on faith in the face of hardship, exemplified by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GR7Y54ZKEVk">Fantasia Barrino’s victory song, “I Believe,”</a> performed with a gospel choir. Meanwhile, it served as a stage for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oPnLBLnX14Y">patriotic passion</a>, broadcasting two performances of Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the U.S.A.” when the United States entered Iraq in 2003. Meanwhile, the many “Idol Gives Back” specials remind us of American philanthropic values.</p>
<p>The show has celebrated failure as both a necessary stumbling block and a launchpad to fame. Many singers needed to audition year after year before they earned their chance to compete. For others, such as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0d5eP0wWLQY">William Hung</a>, their televised rejection brought fame and opportunity anyway.</p>
<p>“American Idol” has also served as a course in American music history, featuring discrete genres like Southern soul and Southern rock, together with newer, blurrier categories like pop-country and pop-punk.</p>
<h2>Making the old new again</h2>
<p>In one sense, “American Idol”‘s format was nothing new. In fact, British entertainment executives Simon Fuller and Simon Cowell – who shepherded in a 21st-century version of the “British Invasion” – fashioned their juggernaut show as a new take on old business models. </p>
<p>There is something distinctly American about contestants standing in a Ford-sponsored spotlight, judges sipping from Coca-Cola glasses, and viewers sitting in front of television screens texting their votes on AT&T phones. The show’s conspicuous commercialization recalls the earliest days of television, <a href="https://theconversation.com/in-tvs-shifting-landscape-advertisers-scramble-to-adapt-53721">when programs were owned and produced by advertisers</a>. And “Idol,” like that early programming, was intended to be “appointment television,” bringing families together at the same time every week. </p>
<p>“Idol”’s production model is also a throwback. It’s structured like Berry Gordy’s Motown – a one-stop fame factory that offers stars a package of coaching, polishing, a band, album production and promotion.</p>
<p>The format also draws from amateur regional and national radio competitions of the early 20th century. (Frank Sinatra got his start winning one on “Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour” in 1935, with the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BM5O_elYnU">Hoboken Four</a>.) Another influence is the half-ridiculous and <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/eurovision/entries/18aa5cc2-0f94-3882-9c57-07fdec46dc5b">totally political</a> “Eurovision Song Contest,” the hugely popular and mercilessly mocked annual televised event that pits nation against nation in (almost) friendly singing competition. </p>
<h2>A vote that counts?</h2>
<p>“Eurovision,” which originated in 1955 as a test of transnational network capabilities and postwar international relations, introduced telephone voting a few years before “Idol” premiered. </p>
<p>And like Eurovision, the impact of “American Idol” extends far beyond our annual crowning of a new pop star. The show’s rise has taken place at a time when the boundaries between entertainment, politics and business have become increasingly blurred. </p>
<p>Season after season, “American Idol” fans have placed votes for their favorite contestants – options which, somewhat like our presidential candidates, have been carefully cultivated by a panel of industry experts looking for a sure bet. </p>
<p>The initial success of “Idol” heralded not only an era of similar television programming, but also a new era in which we’re given the opportunity to “vote,” whether it’s for <a href="http://www.dumdumpops.com/vote-for-flavors">dum-dum pop flavors</a> or <a href="https://www.time.com/4264746/2016-time-100-poll/">the world’s most influential people</a>. </p>
<p>Considering these trends, it’s not so farfetched to suggest that the wild popularity of shows like “American Idol” played some role in setting the blinding chrome stage and slightly “pitchy” tone for this year’s election. </p>
<p>It isn’t just that Donald Trump presided over “The Apprentice,” a reality competition that rode in on “American Idol”’s coattails. </p>
<p>His persona also seems to meet the same sadistic public need satisfied by original “Idol” judge Simon Cowell: the executive heir, the imperious arbiter of taste who owes his fortune at least as much to his superiority complex as to any financial acumen. At the same time, personas like Cowell and Trump deign to give an ordinary, hardworking American a chance. </p>
<p>That conceit, though, is mitigated cleverly by both moguls: they capitalize on what Cowell <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1374378/Simon-Cowell-Losing-father-worst-day-life.html">has identified</a> as a universal desire to feel important. </p>
<p>The crux of their personal appeal is that they understand that everyone wants to matter, and we are willing – as TV viewers or as citizens – to risk an awful lot just to feel like we do. We each want to imagine our own sky-high potential, and laugh in relief when we see others who will never get off the ground. We want to be judge and jury, but also be judged and juried. </p>
<p>“Idol” gives Americans permission to judge each other, to feel like our opinion makes a difference. Trump’s unfiltered rhetoric has done something similar, giving his supporters implicit and sometimes explicit permission to mock, dismiss, exclude and even attack others based on racial and ethnic identity, religion or ability.</p>
<p>And so now, as “Idol” makes its final journey from Studio 36 to the Dolby Theatre, we deliberate over whose victory will herald the last “Seacrest – out.” </p>
<p>Whatever happens, and whichever way our presidential election goes, the U.S. is on the brink of something new, a major cultural shift. Wherever we’re going, “Idol” has served its purpose, and we don’t need it in the same desperate way anymore. </p>
<p>I think, though, that we’ll always be searching for the next big thing. And we’ll always be glad we had <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uC21yoI8Di8">a moment like this</a>.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uC21yoI8Di8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Kelly Clarkson, the first winner of American Idol, performs ‘A Moment Like This.’</span></figcaption>
</figure><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/56555/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Katherine Meizel does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>‘American Idol’ fittingly appeared nine months after 9/11 – and ends just in time for Donald Trump’s rise.Katherine Meizel, Assistant Professor of Ethnomusicology, Bowling Green State UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/191552013-11-04T19:34:33Z2013-11-04T19:34:33ZRewind, repeat: TV’s fame machine is oh-so retro<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/34395/original/z4pkwtyc-1383542937.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">'Rendition television' is conservative and retrograde.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Seven Network</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>More than a decade ago, I wrote something on the 1996 film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0117998/">Twister</a> and a host of other action films. I thought it was deep and profound: the new blockbuster films were trying to emulate the experience of playing interactive games combined with the thrill of amusement park rides. </p>
<p>My deep thought was that the film industry was reinventing itself for the digital era – a large screen immersive sense that imaginatively was more enriching than a videogame. In other words, a very old media form such as film was “modernising itself” to maintain its relevance with a new interactive audience.</p>
<p>In contrast, in looking at contemporary television I am struck at how retro it has become. </p>
<p>In its appeal to relevance, television produces countless versions of talent shows. Under the broad banner of reality TV, what we see night after night after night are programs that pit people against people for some award and prize that is ultimately delayed for week after week. </p>
<p>So filling the 16 years of television post-Twister, if you will, are shows such as American/Australian/fill-in nationality/Idol, So You Think you can Dance, Dancing with the Stars, The It Factor, Australia’s/Britain’s/fill-in-the-nation’s/Got Talent, Australia’s/fill-in-the-nation’s Next Supermodel, The Voice, and so on.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33584/original/b4qcqkgr-1382510430.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Acrobatic duo Suzie Q and Toby J performing on Australia’s Got Talent in 2012.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Network Seven</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Flicking the switch back to vaudeville</h2>
<p>The programs are made with glitz and colour and large amounts of what could be called glamour, but ultimately they are similar to what I used to watch in Canada as a boy: a local television talent show, Big Al’s Talent Showcase, that in its later years morphed into Big Top Talent. The show was hosted by Oopsy the Clown and – to use an expression that betrays its 20th-century historical origins – it was really hokey. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y8qiDeqqL8I?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Canadian kids’ TV show Big Top Talent.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The original host Big Al appeared to be moderately drunk most of the time. He was a lecherous interviewer of the very young performers from local dance and performing arts studios (who were using the television time to spruik their business). </p>
<p>Those kinds of programs – whether national such as the Australian <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xa6rDwnkHJc&list=PLD1130FC7380D55E7">Young Talent Time</a> or local – were very much part of early television. And many analyses of early television identified how television drew on its “liveness” to compete with cinema and produced programs that connected to performance. </p>
<p>Thus early television was often like radio before it and very reliant on vaudeville and cabaret: whether one was drawn to the powerfully popular <a href="http://www.edsullivan.com/">Ed Sullivan Show</a> in the US or <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0266150/">In Melbourne Tonight</a> in Australia, these were essentially variety programs and really are the hokey precursors to the modern talent show. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.heyhey.tv/">Hey Hey It’s Saturday</a>, with its Red Faces segment, embodied pretty well all that variety and TV talent contests combined – and even unabashedly acknowledged its kitsch and hokey quality.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/COFHGFZxtnY?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Elvis Presley sings Don’t be Cruel on the Ed Sullivan Show, 1957.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>The new studio system of fame</h2>
<p>Nonetheless, there is something intriguing in this regeneration of entertainment by television. </p>
<p>What television has effectively done over the last 15 years is something we haven’t seen since classic Hollywood: they have created a studio system of fame. These talent/quiz shows and their cousins, the reality game shows, are actively producing a stable of stars.</p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=871&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=871&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=871&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1095&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1095&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33583/original/7ssjs6c3-1382510191.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1095&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Australian Idol star Stan Walker works the crowd at the 2010 Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Sergio Dionisio</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>As with Hollywood’s studio system, these are stars that are very much under the thumb and control of their corporate bosses. The Hollywood studio system as a star-making machine with appropriate contracts parallels the kinds of contracts performers on the Idol series have had to sign about their future performances and productions. </p>
<p>As Australian scholar Charles Fairchild has written in <a href="http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0411/09-fairchild.php">The Attention Economy</a>, the contract clauses mean these made-stars are very much controlled by the production companies of the talent shows.</p>
<p>Such talent shows are highly orchestrated techniques of presenting actual stars and celebrities via judges. </p>
<p>This may be a banal point, but it points to the way the program relies on these current or past stars to legitimate the star-making machinery of the talent show itself. Association, invited guest performers, adjudication and proximity are ways Australian programs enhance the images of the performers or contestants somehow. By association, the entire apparatus works as a fame-making machine. </p>
<p>Ricky Martin as a judge on The Voice allows the wider circulation of stories upon stories for magazines and online sources that re-implicate the program and its proto-stars into objects for further stories and media narratives: they make networks such as Seven, Nine and Ten relevant in the contemporary moment. </p>
<p>In a host of ways, these television formats underline a wider celebritisation of entertainment.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=455&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=572&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=572&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33582/original/g665ffzh-1382510029.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=572&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Judges Delta Goodrem and Ricky Martin congratulate Harrison Craig, the 2013 winner of The Voice.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Mick Tsikas</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>What has to be remembered about these talent shows is that most of the content comes in the form of “renditions”. </p>
<p>We’ve heard almost all of the songs before by the original artists: the talent shows’ performers are providing interpretations of these songs. They rely on the pull of the original songs and hope that that connection migrates through an interesting interpretation or use of the voice to the current performer. </p>
<p>We can call this rendition television because it is conservative and retrograde in its heavy reliance on old content. Rendition television is also quite colonial: we legitimate our local stars by how they reproduce what has been generally culturally produced at the centres of entertainment production in the United States and England predominantly. </p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/33585/original/b2fcxtxw-1382510625.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Pianola rolls.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Gerard's World/Flickr</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In a sense, programs such as Young Talent Time, Australian Idol or The Voice Australianise or localise international content. In fact, given that many of these programs are international franchises as formats, rendition television expresses the very essence of global and local, but it positions the local as ultimately secondary. </p>
<p>Talent shows hearken back to the 19th-century and early 20th-century practice of gathering around the piano in the parlour with the latest best-selling sheet-music. In both time-frames popular songs help us recreate our own local and private versions of popular culture.</p>
<h2>Play it again</h2>
<p>It is fascinating, to me, how repetitive these programs are. </p>
<p>Structures repeat for weeks upon weeks. Contestants are eliminated and formats and judging shift slightly as well to what becomes the next task or assignment for the next night’s show. These are the daily and weekly changes in talent-show programs. </p>
<p>This style of entertainment makes me think back to how film through Twister retooled to connect to the contemporary immersive sense of new media. With these talent shows, we have the televisualisation of the pleasure of repetition that online and videogame players enjoy. There may be slightly new levels, but there is a certain pleasure in the repetition with only slight changes. </p>
<p>Perhaps the contemporary talent show is appealing to these newer media forms as well even as it provides the comforts of the past in its entertainment and industrial form.</p>
<p><em>The author would like to thank Matt Allen for the kernel of the idea that video games and reality television share an aesthetic quality in their repetition, quests, and levels.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/19155/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>P. David Marshall does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>More than a decade ago, I wrote something on the 1996 film Twister and a host of other action films. I thought it was deep and profound: the new blockbuster films were trying to emulate the experience…P. David Marshall, Professor and Personal Chair in New Media, Communication and Cultural Studies, Deakin UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.