I dreamed last night about two British media phenomena that are usually far from my mind: EastEnders and Simon Cowell.
In my dream, the EastEnders universe was real – it wasn't a television show – and Simon and I both lived in that universe and were nodding acquaintances via a mutual friend. Inside this odd dream world I passed Simon outside a bakery that used to exist on Church Street in Stoke Newington (evidently, he had wandered to Stoke Newington from Walford – no great distance in this fictional universe and indeed not a terribly long way in reality). Lingering to overhear a conversation he was having with someone I did not know, I discovered that he was planning – as all EastEnders characters seem to plan at some stage – an act of larceny. Specifically, he was planning to provide unlimited lemonade at a large children's party by means of a bar pump connected to an illegally tapped water supply and barrels of lemonade syrup stolen from a neighbourhood business.
Walking away from the bakery, it struck me that this was not so very different from Simon's normal modus operandi: to deliver a synthetic product to the masses in a way that undermines the very communities from which those masses are drawn, and what is more, to do so in a way that has a fraudulent veneer of generosity.
At a dinner party hosted by the mutual friend later that same day, I confronted Simon about this at a moment when we were in the kitchen away from the rest of the guests, surprising myself by then launching into a monologue conveying the dislike I have for his career. It went something like this:
“The sad thing is, Simon, this nasty business with the lemonade is really no worse than what you do in your day job; in fact, in your day job you take fewer risks and do more damage. You give society a saccharine experience at a greater cost than its members imagine. The products you push are designed to be addictive and to make a small number of people a large amount of money. They actively promote imitation over innovation, fakery over reality and cult of personality over human understanding.
“What good did Westlife or 5ive do for the music scenes of the countries in which they grew up? Are Girls Aloud really consequential enough to warrant the column inches written about them, or do they merely have the luxury of some of the best publicists money can buy? The difficulty Susan Boyle has had adjusting to the binary nature of the fame you purvey isn't her fault: it's due to the unhealthy nature of that fame. She is, to paraphrase the well-known quote, too healthy to easily conform to the expectations caused by the sick social paradigm you promote.
“Now, had the money your labels invest in manufactured stardom instead been used in fostering grass-roots art and music scenes perhaps Boyle and those around her would have had a less competitive, commercial vision of musical theatre, thereby allowing her to achieve something of the success of her hero Elaine Paige but organically and without feeling she required the opportunistic and hyper-judgemental attention of TV talent show hosts like yourself or Michael Barrymore.
“And how much other innovation might have come from that sort of investment? Whole new musical genres might have been created! And yet your television shows and the records you release seem always to be shackled to unimaginative cover versions of Unchained Melody. They are derivative to the second or third order. Britain is squandering talent by wasting so much time and money on your shows when the television cameras could be crawling the night clubs, community centres, concert halls, schools and dingy rehearsal rooms where musicians congregate to explore new ideas. Why not foster that collaboration by reporting on the many such artists whose talents are all worthy of exposure to a wider audience instead of creating artificial scenarios in which a handful of people receive adulation and the rest are dismissed because they don't fit the narrow confines of your preconceptions or those of your fellow judges and big-label A&R men? Innovators need exposure to like-minded audiences and colleagues, and yet you have shown little interest in facilitating this, preferring instead to reap the fruits of earlier innovators' sweat.
“Simon, for all that the singers among your selected few represent the kind of sweetness and light that can be found by making the most MOR choices, you are the king of the millenial philistines. Your philosophy is not that of Matthew Arnold, it is that of Andrew Keen, and its damage is felt by every struggling but competent musical artist whose adventurousness you have taught your audiences not to share.”
At that point, he picked up a frying pan from the draining board and made quite seriously as if to hit me in the face with it. I ducked, hefted a heavy glass blender to throw at him if he continued, and said, raising my eyebrows, “Surely you don't think fighting over this is the best way out.”
A sudden click of sharp heels on the tiled floor alerted us to the arrival of our host, who had surely come to see what was detaining us. She, in turn, raised her eyebrows. Under her gaze, we put down our weapons and returned to the dining room.
For some reason I always read the written word in the voice of the person who wrote it, if I know their voice. This line goes particularly well in your voice Sam:
“I discovered that he was planning – as all EastEnders characters seem to plan at some stage – an act of larceny.”
Thanks, Tom. I should add that I’ve possibly seen fewer than a dozen full episodes of EastEnders in my entire life but all of them seemed to feature dastardly deeds done deviously and then dubiously denied.
Oh hell in a handcart: UK plc brought to you by SyCo Ltd.