So, they hook us in with a few terrific performances in the first two weeks and then what happens – we get some nice voices but the best we can finish with this week is Phooey!
When Alan Busby walked out and said “It’s not just about the singing” I thought, Oh, God, here we go. When the going gets tough, the audience get singing. Dermot, please stop dancing. In fact, Alan, please stop dancing. Four no’s but nice to meet you – he blamed his jumper.
Then we had Gurdeep Dhillon – what was he doing? Tom Idelson, Prince Wannabe – Steve Loczy, wannabe Billy Ray Cyrus singing Dolly Parton “Do you like country music Simon?” “Not any more!” – GWS (Guy With Style), real name Ian, the MC Hammer wannabe *can’t stop laughing* Goodness, is it the break already? How time flies when I’m PMSL on the floor.
2 Gorgeous 4 Words – Let’s Hear it For The Boy – always dodgy. Twelve came to their auditions; I’d hate to hear the other nine. Louis’ fave new word is “Never”.
Finally, Ashanti Webbe turns up. She’s not amazing, but is without doubt the best – the only – singer so far. Think she’ll struggle though. I’m agreeing with Simon again. Worrying, isn’t it? Maybe we didn’t hear enough.
Daniel Williams sings Let It Be and this is very nice, potential there, before Lucie Jones makes her entrance. I think she’s doing a wrong’un, singing Whitney I Will Always Love You, but she pulls it off. Very Leona-ish, modest, nervous. Lovely voice though, one to watch.
Then the tone takes a downturn again, with Ian Elsey singing about Beef and Onion Crisps, The Lonely Llama and Shepherds Pie Till I Die – his own compositions – could have been ok if he could sing or they had a tune … Dawn Thomas was Crazy and Garteh Evans was asking for someone to send him to meet the Angels he sang about.
Kirsty and Jack are Combined Effort, who broke up romantically last week but are still singing together. When I say still singing together, of course, I jest, it’s not singing. The judges become relate councillors and they leave the stage a proper couple again. I’m going to be sick, and it’s nothing to do with the mint cornetto I’ve just guzzled.
Jade Fubara comes to us with an acappella And I’m Tellling You. It’s effortless, sounds gospel influenced, again, seemingly quite modest and another to watch.
But there’s no BIG performance to end on, no-one rocking it up, unless you really want to count our French friend, Phooey, sorry Fouard, doing his Vic Reeves Club singer impression of Marish Carey, which turns into Vic Reeves doing Norman Collier – remember him? No? It was very funny at the time. I wonder if Fouard is on strings, he’s doing a definite impression of a a Thunderbird now. The audience are singing again, their arms are aloft, swaying and I fear the lighters will come out any moment.
And that was it – tres, tres disappointing show. Too many shockers trying too hard to be someone else. D-, I expect an improvement next week.