Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Grading The Voice: An Introduction

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I gave up television because of American Idol.

It’s true. It was 2004 and I was obsessed by it and angry with it. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I didn’t want to have that kind of relationship with television.

Despite giving up broadcast television entirely, I still followed Idol by way of video swatches through Season 8. There I felt like I saw the two halves of my musical taste duke it out on screen – the artistry and interpretation of Kris Allen versus the genre-bending showmanship of Adam Lambert.

That was it for me and Idol. I thought I’d finally be free of televised singing competitions.

Then, in the past week, I started to hear about The Voice. (Remember, I don’t have the benefit of TV commercials to inform me of these happenings. I read about it on the internets.)

Four relevant, millions-selling artist mentors meant be constructive rather than destructive in their search. A search not for comically bad auditions, or style over substance. but for a remarkable, memorable voice.

The Voice. Which, aside from original Idol Clarkson, Cowell and Co. have never truly managed.

The glowing reviews wore down my “no television” stance far enough that I sampled a smattering of auditions last night. I was completely blown away. Of the four I sampled, even the worst one was someone I’d consider buying an an entire album from.

It begs the question – can a voice be relevant without an image? What if one of the contestants has a face for radio, an issue presaged by that Buggles classic? What happens after the blind audition is over and a mentor gets stuck with someone fugly?

Begrudgingly, I was hooked enough to want to find out. I spent last night last night watching the first two episodes of this madcap show that’s a twisted concoction of X-Factor, Hollywood Squares, and The Dating Game.

The audition rounds fascinated me because the judges experienced the contestants the same way I listed to Idol for half a decade: blindly. I heard the songs on the internet without the hoopla of their sob stories, stage lights, and snarky judge comments. Someone might have had a pretty face and visual panache, but were they behind the beat? Did the big diva go flat on all of her major melisma moments? I noticed this stuff while watchers ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the stage show.

On the other side, I am these contestants. I’m a singer. I’m an artist who has spent many years trying to turn heads in my direction. I’ve tried subtlety and screaming. The results depend on the room.

The auditions of The Voice were a solid B. Despite a lot of repeated soundbites and constant awkward interruptions by a bumbling, arithmetic-spouting Carson Daly, the three hours of show flew by. Never too long with one contestant, just enough time in the undeniably magical presence of the mentors.

So which voice was The Voice? How do each of the judges’ teams stack up?

I’ll follow up with a post on each judge’s team to get you ready for the subsequent (scary-sounding) battle rounds.

Remember when?

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I remember convincing my mother to let me stay home from school to watch news coverage of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

I remember my grade school wheeling a television into our chapel, begrudgingly, to watch Clinton’s inauguration.

I remember Chestnut Street streaming with people, adults and students, on September 11.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to remember about last night, or why.

Life is binary. Someone terrifying and monstrous was alive. His ideals and goals were completely opposed to ours. Now he is dead. There is little to digest or debate.

Life is binary. Liberty is digital. Progressive. Freedom is not an on-or-off state. After slaves were freed they still lacked many liberties. Women won the right to vote but were still treated as second-class citizens. Gays and lesbians will soon be free to serve openly in our military, but not to enjoy the status of marriage.

Life is binary. Liberty is digital. The pursuit of happiness is infinite. It is endless possibility that your life and liberty help to define. It’s who you are and what you do, and how satisfied you are about doing it.

What will I remember about last night? That it concluded four days of celebration around the marriage of two of my favorite people. That the bride’s family traveled from across the country and globe to be here. People I had heard about in stories, whose sickness and health had stuck in my thoughts. All of us in the ballroom as I endeavored to steal the bride’s shoe from her foot (a tradition). Sitting in a hotel bar watching her pose with Colonial War reenactors, a perfect juxtaposition of the men who fought to secure our unalieable rights and someone who came a long way (in distance and life) to be able to enjoy them.

I will remember Elise and I, lying in bed in our own house with my laptop on my chest, exhausted from celebrating for days. Watching reaction blossom from one Facebook status to a dozen to my entire Twitter feed. Watching President Obama speak.

I woke up this morning in the same bed, next to the same person, free and content.

If anyone ever asks me what I was doing when I found out that Osama Bin Laden was dead, I will tell them it had nothing to do with death, and everything to do with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Baby I Can Drive Your Car

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This morning I was on the slowest possible trolley.

It made me think about travel powers, how we take our limitations for granted, and how no one can change that but ourselves.

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In defense of my parking, that was the first time I had ever driven an SUV and I didn’t really understand the concept of its turn radius.

I drove a lot this past week.

I drove us into the city to hang out with friends. I drove Nan’s massive shuttle bus of a vehicle to pick up our fine dinner of Chinese food. I drove a tipsy E home at midnight in blinding rain.

(Which is an absolutely perfect situation to learn how to drive on a highway, and don’t let anyone tell you any different. The rumble strip is there for a reason, you know.)

My recent time behind the wheel has given me a chance to contemplate how I’ve limited my life around not being able to drive. I buy my essentials in bulk, since I can’t drive myself to the grocery store. I’m perennially absent from parties – especially ones at any distance – unless I can crash with someone else.

Even music – music – my number one commitment outside of staying married and holding down a job I enjoy – is limited by non-driving. I don’t go for gigs outside of Center City. I don’t look at concert listings outside of Philly. I assume I have to buy all of my friends’ new LPs online because I’m not going to make it out to their shows.

Of course, that all seems pretty normal. It’s been my life for my whole life. My non-driving was a serious commitment, right up there with my not watching TV, not eating meat, and not acknowledging the existence of Miley Cyrus. It was a big part of my identity.

It was also practical. And I didn’t have the money for a car, or for car insurance. I didn’t have the time to constantly circle for parking spots when we lived in South Philly. And for a long time I didn’t even have a car to learn on, so the entire point was moot.

Really, me not driving was for the best.

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Back when I lived most of my life inside of City of Heroes I had a similar limitation: I wouldn’t take a “travel power.”

Most superheroes have them. Superman can fly. Spider-Man swings from rooftops. Batman has a mobile. Nightcrawler teleports – the whole point of him is travel! In City of Heroes every hero could choose a travel power at level 14 – flying, super-leaping, teleporting, or having super-speed.

Nightcrawler’s mutant power is teleportation. At the point that your entire super-power is all about travelling, would you even bother to get your driver’s license?

All seriously cool powers, right? But, my main superhero gal was meant to be a normal human being. Plus, why waste a power on moving around when I could be… you know, more SUPER. SUPERER!

I was super. I was a serious superhero that could kick the ass of anything near my level. But you know what? I was slow. It took me forever to get to the place where I needed to be super. Teammates were constantly standing around waiting for me.

It didn’t bother me at all … until I finally broke down and learned to fly, at level 35. It was awesome. Everything was faster. I got to PLAY the game more, instead of just jogging around the game. Within a day I was saying, “Why the hell did you all wait for me all of that time? You should have given up on me and made me learn to fly!”

They all cross their arms (really, there was an emote for that) and said, “You SAID you weren’t interested in flying. You SAID you were happy.”

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I don’t have my license yet, but my increasing confidence in the car means I just need to wrangle up a licensed driver if I want to go for a ride. I drove to a party I would have never made it to in time on SEPTA. I got new prescriptions on a weekend, without wasting a lunch break on them!

I drove the Nan-Tank to get Chinese food like it was nothing, electing not to dwell on the fact that it was my first time driving a car other than my own, and it was in flood conditions.

(“Just think,” Nan pointed out with glee, “if we weren’t in [the Nan-Tank] that wall of water we just kicked up would have swallowed your entire car!”)

(I can neither confirm nor deny if that was followed by a subtle “yee-haw!”)

As it turns out, real life isn’t entirely different than City of Heroes, except I wasn’t stubborn enough to wait until I turned 35 to learn to drive. In both places I insisted I spent my time, effort, and money on the most high quality parts of my life and not letting anyone convince my otherwise.

That’s great when it comes to not wasting money on cable TV or never having heard a note from Miley’s lips, but not when it hamstrings me from doing even more of the high quality things I like to do.

Soon I will be a sure enough parallel parker to obtain my lisence, and then that housebound, SEPTA-reliant portion of my life that I’ve always taken for granted will be over. I can go to parties. I can go on a vacation alone! I can go on a road trip!

Odds are you probably have your own travel power, but maybe you have some other limitation you’re taking for granted. Do you have the power to eliminate it? How would your life be better without it?

Or, is it there for a reason – like paying for cable television would just give me a pointless way to waste my money and time?