The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, January 24, 2019 — 5B
‘American Idol,’ American audiences and America
VH1
ITV
“DE AQUÍ NO
SALES”
Rosalía
Universal Music
Group
MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW: ‘DE AQUÍ NO
SALES’
“DE
AQUÍ
NO
SALES
(Cap.4: Disputa)” stands out
as one of the most antagonistic
songs off of singer/songwriter
Rosalía’s dynamic 2018 release
El Mal Querer. “Yo que tanto
te camelo / Y tú me la vienes
haciendo” she howls at the
space around her, and the
words have only just been
wrenched
from
her
body
before they are swallowed
whole by the snarl of revving
motorcycle engines. The song
inspires the same kind of
images that are reminiscent
of Mad Max’s apocalyptic
wasteland — as hostile and
wretched as Fury Road itself.
The
recently
released
music video for “DE AQUÍ
NO SALES” does not stray
far from these preexistent
associations. It starts with
Rosalía half-submerged in a
pond, dressed as an incarnate
of Björk’s Vulnicura cover
and surrounded by twisted
hunks of metal. From there,
the
images
flash
between
shots of Rosalía dressed as the
ultimate badass of any of “Fast
and Furious” film, doused in
flames and back again in water,
yet each time we come back to
this shot, she sinks lower and
lower. By the time the song’s
last spoken line “Caramelos
también tengo” is uttered, her
head is the only appendage we
can see above the water; she is
nearly consumed by the murky
depths. Then, the tempo picks
up, and a shot of a windmill
exploding into flames takes us
into the image of a trumphiant
Rosalía rising from the fire.
She
boards
a
motorcycle
and rides into the moonlight
countryside. She doesn’t look
back.
—
Shima
Sadaghiyani,
Daily Arts Writer
FABER AND FABER
ALLY OWENS
Daily TV Editor
It
should
come
as
no
surprise
that
American
audiences utterly devour the
televised talent competition:
It’s one part sadistic guilty
pleasure, one part inspiration
porn and one part fantasy
fulfillment
of
having
the
same deciding power as an
L.A. talent executive. Yet, at
its core, the televised talent
competition is emblematic of
the “American Dream” ideal
we claim our society operates
upon.
Just in case you didn’t
read “The Great Gatsby” at
some point in your schooling,
the American Dream is the
common
mythology
that
each and every U.S. citizen
has
equal
opportunity
to
attain the highest of their
aspirations. All it takes is
hard work (and apparently
not
the
right
ancestry,
genitalia or religion)! This
rose-tinted
idealization
of
the mechanics of our society
is integral to the formula of
the talent competition. Just as
the American Dream blindly
posits that the next great
entrepreneur could very well
be from Section 8, the talent
competition promises that the
Next Big Thing™ will not be
found as a result of nepotistic
connections,
but
could
be
spotted among the crowd at
one of the many cattle-call
auditions across the United
States.
And while moments of shock
generated
from
a
random
North Dakotan who can walk
and pose like Naomi Campbell
or a backwoods woman who
can sing like Céline Dion
seem
to
bolster
belief
in
the
egalitarian
utopia
the
American Dream advertises,
the lack of success for the
majority of the winners post-
show reveals the true nature
of the American Dream that
many of us are more familiar
with: a scam, unabashedly
orchestrated
to
fool
the
masses and serve only the
elites at the top.
In 2019, it does not take
a
seasoned
cultural
critic
to predict that the winners
of these competition shows
will be has-beens by the time
the season finale concludes.
This is not a new pattern.
Originally
running
from
1983 to 1995, “Star Search”
ironically did more for the
contestants who did not win
than those that did. Through
its vague promise of stardom
for an unknown and its use of
a panel of judges to deliberate
the skills of contestants, it
is clear that “Star Search”
walked
so
that
“American
Idol” could fly. And fly it did.
For those of us born between
1996 and 2000, we were too
young at the time of its 2002
launch
to
recognize
the
magnitude of its popularity.
The widespread acclaim was
in no doubt related to the
fresh (at the time) convention
of allowing the audience,
through SMS text, to have
final say over who would
ultimately become America’s
newest sensation. Thus, it
should come as no surprise
that one of the show’s most
(if not the most) recognizable
winners, Kelly Clarkson, was
crowned during the season in
which the most people were
glued to the screens watching
her journey.
“American Idol” was so
successful that it was only
a
matter
of
time
before
troves of imitators emerged,
hoping to capitalize on the
current trend of audience
determinism.
To
name
a
few, there’s “America’s Got
Talent,” “So You Think You
Can
Dance,”
“America’s
Next
Top
Model,”
“Last
Comic Standing,” “American
Superstar,” “The Next: Fame
Is At Your Doorstep,” and
then a second wave led by
“The
Voice,”
“The
Four,”
“The Face” and “The Rap
Game.” Nevertheless, as the
seasons of “Idol” and the
others waxed on and their
audiences
diminished,
it
became evident that, despite
the repetitive declarations of
the “lucrative” prizes to be
awarded to the victors, these
shows were not even capable
of producing a solid C-list
celebrity, let alone the A-list
icons they initially promised.
The people running the
programs,
those
already
entrenched in the business,
have always retained the
knowledge that it takes a
bit more than a check and
a competition prize (a six
page spread in Seventeen
magazine, a record deal with
Sony, a contract with So So Def
Records ... the list goes on) to
conquer an entire industry.
As the years progressed and
more new shows continued
to materialize, it has become
clear that executives have
exploited and are continuing
to
exploit
the
remaining
audience’s
belief
in
the
American Dream, as well as
our ignorance of how show
business really works from
the inside. After all, what
experience does the average
mechanic
from
Tennessee
have in show business to
know that a contract is not
the surefire ticket out of
obscurity?
Despite the promise of
instant stardom, the talent
contestants
only
have
15
fleeting minutes of fame to
show for their participation
while
network
executives
continue to profit off of
the lies they spin to both
participants
and
loyal
viewers.
Don’t
believe
me? Consider the fact that
Simon
Cowell
and
Simon
Fuller, executive producers
on “American Idol” and “X
Factor,” each maintain a net
worth exceeding 500 million
dollars, yet the only thing
“Idol” season seven winner
Taylor Hicks maintains is
a spot on “Where Are They
Now” lists. These executives
treat the usually organic star-
making process as though
it is mass production. And
in recent years, as winners
become
more
and
more
inconsequential, it appears
as though they realized the
futility in investing even
the bare minimum of time
and money in convincing the
public to fall in love with
a new “top” model, dancer,
rapper or singer every year.
Thus, new strategies are
undertaken to ensure that
audiences are still engaged
and,
most
importantly,
profits remain high. This is
evidenced in the shift away
from
contestant-centric
content
to
content
that
overwhelmingly centers the
already-established celebrity
judges; or worse, a celebrity
who
creates
a
shameless
vehicle
for
themselves.
For “American Idol,” it is
no
coincidence
that
the
high
turnover
of
judges
coincided almost precisely
with mainstream audiences’
apathy
toward
whoever
won the show. What’s more
memorable in recent “Idol”
canon: the Mariah Carey-
Nicki Minaj beef or the name
of the season 13 winner?
Another
example
of
this
phenomenon is exhibited in
“The Voice,” where media
coverage
unmistakably
touched
moreso
on
the
celebrity judges in the chairs
and their relationships than
the
contestants.
Even
in
cases of celebrity vehicles
like Tyra Banks’ “America’s
Next Top Model” or Jermaine
Dupree’s “The Rap Game,”
buzz is not generated from
winners (in fact, I cannot
think of a single mainstream
sensation produced in either
show’s
history).
Buzz
is
derived from the celebrity
attempting to revamp their
careers.
The
contestants
—
the regular people — in
their attempts to live out
an
idealized
fantasy
of
transcending
whichever
barriers stand in their way
of wealth and fame quite
ironically end up becoming
instruments
perpetuating
the system they tried so hard
to confront.
So much for the American
Dream.
ABC
As the years
progressed and
more new shows
continued to
materialize, it has
become clear that
executives have
exploited and
are continuing
to exploit the
remaining
audience’s belief
in the American
Dream, as well
as our ignorance
of how show
business really
works from the
inside
In 2019, it does not
take a seasoned
cultural critic
to predict that
the winners of
these competition
shows will be has-
beens by the time
the season finale
concludes