As far as the dialogue goes, what I usually here is one of two things: prosaic speech, or designed-to-be-humours patter that's trying too hard to be clever or given to actors who aren't adept enough to deliver the lines well. Concerning the former, nothing's wrong with "ordinary guy" speech; however, those lines should underscore or counter a show's theme, and far too often, there is not theme--there is only plot and arc. Concerning the latter, the shows--and popular ones, too, ones my friends watch--goofy dialogue or scenarios come from characters who would not behave in such fashion in any realistic society. I grew so tired of this repetitive, dreary, and trite writing, that--during my first two years of marriage--I all-but-gave up watching television altogether. Seinfeld had ended, Freaks & Geeks was axed, Friends had grown laborious, and Frasier was the only reason to watch non-animated primetime network television.
And then there came Survivor.
The show wasn't revolutionary by any means (but then again, in entertainment, what truly is or ever has been?), basically taking MTV's The Real World, setting it on an island, and making it a competition. The physical challenges were often exciting, but what really sold this show was the squabbling, the lying, and the backstabbing. These people were concocting strategies to align themselves with certain other people, befriend them for a short period of time so that they themselves may advance further in the game, only to--and often planned in advance--turn on them later. Sure, this is all old hat now, but in that first season, it seemed Shakespearean.***The show's drama was completely unpredictable, and this unpredictability made it exciting. It was like watching football mixed with a soap opera, except the combatants weren't as talented as the former, or as articulate as the latter, but en toto their conflict was more entrancing than either, and this concoction of competition with strange bedfellows made for arresting viewing.
Other networks took notice, and soon reality shows eclipsed sit-coms as the toob du jour. Later in 2000, Big Brother and The Mole debuted, and the next year, the explosion hit, with debuts from What Not to Wear, Fear Factor, and The Amazing Race. Even more reality shows started in 2002, including The Osbournes, Wife Swap, Extreme Makeover, The Bachelor, and the hightest-rated series of the past seven years, American Idol.
Unlike almost every one of the other reality shows, a couple of the winners--and a few of the other contestants--of American Idol have parlayed their fame on that show into highly successful careers. Has there ever been a game show--other than collegiate sports--before AI that's been filled with such extraordinary amateur talent? No. Though every season always has its large share of poor singers, AI has always showcased amazing singers--most of which will never truly make it. For a brief bit, though, in AI the audience is witness to these troubadours--as corny as it sounds--trying to make their lifelong ambitions come true, and most of these guys and gals hold nothing back in their performances. They so often let loose all they can muster, and when there's true, discernable talent involved, then the show gives us brief snapshots of how wonderful and revealing and devestating and life-affirming music can be, of how simply singing someone else's song can be art, of how interpretation can be as worthy and definitive and legitimate and authentic as the act of creating the song in the first place. The baring of one's soul and self need no validation. American Idol, however, rarely shows much of the weekly, arduous process; we mainly just hear the results. One show that did broadcast the process (some of) the path to musical artistry/stardom was one that, though it only lasted one season, preceded Idol by one year: VH-1's Bands on the Run.
Bands on the Run showcased four bands--Flickerstick, Harlow, The Josh Dodes Band, and Soulcracker--who had to market themselves, their merchandise, book gigs, attract audiences, and play concerts to see which band would receive $100, 000 worth of gear; $50,000 cash; and a showcase in front of A&R guys, scouts, and a few corporate heads.****The bands' tasks were arduous,***** as they had to scamper to pass out fliers, drum up business, schmooze, haul gear, set & strike the stages, and all on twenty dollars a day per individual (not counting gas money, phone cards, and room & board). The bands didn't have much time for rehearsal, so much of the road time was spent practicing and writing songs...and arguing...and getting drunk. It was like watching a precursor to Almost Famous, one in which Stillwater had yet to earn the status of anyone's opening band.
For Bands on the Run, the band that made the most money (from all the aforementioned factors) won, and that band was Flickerstick. They were the most traditional rock and roll band of the four, they played with the most verve, they had the best original songs, and they had the best singer. I liked 'em. My buddies in my band (which, at the time, was less than a year old) liked 'em, too. The guys in Flickerstick weren't very witty, they didn't stay sober for very long, they argued and fought...but they also knew how to connect with an audience, and their on-stage dynamics were great, and they had a sense of tarnished romance about them, and this tarnished romance and their verve and their dynamics all manifested in their best song, "Beautiful."
Live, the song rocked and rolled most righteously. Brandin Lea spoke/sung the verses confessionally and tenderly, and the band hung back, letting Lea's frazzled vocals connect with all the womens in da club. On the chorus, the band ratcheted up the volume and distortion and crash cymbals, and Lea launched into the power-vocal stratosphere. Amid Harlow's droning gothpunk, and Dodes' popjazz, and Soulcracker's indiesmarminess, "Beautiful" sounded like Springsteen's "Born to Run" must have sounded on FM radio back in '75: it was driving, it was romantic, it wailed, and it seemed as authentic as music got.
Eight year later, I listen to it, and...it sounds more like Boston or Journey or Foreigner than it does Springsteen, and it doesn't sound much different than Three Doors Down or Matchbox Twenty. It sounds like a cross between soft rock and corporate rock, and it's hard for me to pay serious heed to either of those types of subgenres. But back in the day, though, this one had some immediate impact, and part of what's great about rock and roll is its immediacy, legacy be damned, strike while the iron is hot and all that jazz...or all that rock, and this one did, and then the song, and the band fizzled out. Flickerstick broke up in February of this year, and they never had a true hit, and they never became nationally known, but for a year there, they proved Andy Warhol true, and provided those who watched the show a belief that it can be done, and it can be done well, and it can rock, and rock can matter.
NOTES
*This coming from a man who, before marriage and kids, used to watch--on average--fourteen feature films a week.
**I know that reality shows are scripted and formatted, but--for the most part--those scripts don't contain dialogue.
***Don't believe me? Read Shakespeare's Henry IV, parts I and II, and have Falstaff get back with me.
****In some ways--though the dudes from Flickerstick might not tell you this--this was better than winning Idol, for at least with the Bands on the Run prize, one is not stuck recording songs written solely by others, the production of which has no control.
*****Okay, that doesn't seem very arduous, especially on with gas and hotel and phone usage paid for, but $20 per...that's tough...and that's how most musicians' lives are. It's a tough business out there.
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