Despite being sacked, humiliated, replaced and generally mistreated by everyone else on the show - except, of course Sharon Osbourne, but receiving her support is a little like receiving a brightly wrapped parcel bomb - Louis Walsh has returned to the X Factor fold. Initially this news took us aback as we'd have thought that anyone with even the slightest shred of pride, dignity, and self-respect would have told them, with the help of diagrams and a flashy Powerpoint demonstration exactly where they could shove it, but then we remember that Louis Walsh manages Westlife, so has only a vague understanding of what pride, dignity, and self-respect mean, and even then he thinks they're something to do with lions.

Labels: Louis Walsh, News, X Factor 2007

After all the intrigue, backbiting, apologies, some more backbiting and a bit of hand wringing as they tried to ascertain whether anyone still even cares about what goes on in the programme, the makers of The X Factor, have finally revealed who'll be replacing the hapless Kate Thornton and Louis Walsh in their respective roles on the programme. Although given that the main 'innovation' for this year's series seems to be the reduction of the age limit down to 14, an age where, since we left Victorian times at any rates, society generally tends to expect you to be in school, getting an education and generally trying to make something of your life, rather than spending at best ten weeks on a pisspoor talent show where the only education you're likely to get is in the fields of failure and humiliation and the best your life will be able to offer you even if you do manage to win the whole sorry shebang is a few appearances on local radio and a "Where are They Now?" feature twenty years down the line, they may well be glad that they're no longer a part of the escapade.

Stepping into Kate's immaculate, if often ill-matching, heels is Dermot O'Leary, a man whose probably best known for his work hosting Big Brother's Little Brother, the magazine show which, if the last series was anything to go by, had the main job of awkwardly trying not to mention racism and instead search desperately for any sort of lighter moment, no matter how insignificant and irrelevant compared to what the rest of the country was talking about. Given his obvious uncomfortableness with the way Celebrity Big Brother turned out - and, as our CBB coverage should indicate, we know exactly how he feels, albeit we didn't have to do it in front of somewhat larger audience - it's no wonder that he's decided to jump ship. It seems unlikely that this year's edition of X Factor will have a race hate element to it, but even if it did we can't really see the judges getting too uptight about it, merely saying of a band that turns up in white hoods and performing against a backdrop of burning crosses: "Well, you attempted something bold and original there, but you didn't quite pull it off. Well done for trying, though!".

Ah the judges, and while Dermot may have been an obvious choice for the role of host - although our hopes were resting firmly on the shoulders of the lovely Fearne Cotton - choosing who was to fill Louis' slightly stained and unpleasantly warm seat must have been a much harder choice. After all, who else will, with the worldly expertise of the Westlife manager, be able to sit there and describe every act on the show as "A young X", where X is generally the person whose song the act has just performed, unless said person is a black woman, in which case they well be described as "A young Diana Ross", no matter what their performance was like or, indeed, whether they bear any relation to Diana Ross, young or old, whatsoever? As it turns out, it's Sinitta, whose contribution to the world of music, GTO notwithstanding, is not exactly hugely impressive or indeed relevant. Which, frankly, pretty much makes her a perfect judge for the show.

Labels: Dermot O'Leary, Sinitta, TV, X Factor 2007

It's been ten long, long weeks, but finally we've reached the X Factor Final and what an exciting battle it promises to be, as Ray takes on Leona for the opportunity to be the next Steve Brookstein with all the fun, excitement and glamour that you'd imagine that to entail. Of course, we say Ray vs Leona, but as far as we're concerned it's Ray vs Not Ray, and as long as Not Ray wins, we'll be happy.

100,000 started out on this journey and now only two remain, although for us we started off with 23 billion brain cells and now are left with only two, which still makes us a bit brighter than our host for the evening, the ever, umm, reliable Miss Kate Thornton (DRESSWATCH: A black, sparkly, sequinned number, the sort of thing that Shirley Bassey might wear, were she a goth), and not only did she have to anchor the London show, she also had to do a number of throws to the live OB's as tonight, as she excitedly informed us, the final was coming from across the country. Apparently the country now stretches no further than Liverpool. We wonder what this means for our passport.

And so, with little preamble from our hostess, Ray kicks off what we shall call, in complete defiance of the trades description act, the evening's entertainment, but first we have a short film about Ray's final week as an X Factor contestant. A private jet was there to whisk him back to Liverpool, presumably because if any paying passengers had been forced to sit on the same plane as the perma-smugged social irritant there'd have been a revolt, and he returned to his family home, where a crowd of people who definitely weren't pressganged in from the local schools were there to greet him, but Ray is a grounded lad and was more keen to grab a precious few moments alone with his family, a fact we know because not only did he allow the production crew to film this through the kitchen window, he also made sure his mum and gran were miked up so we didn't miss a moment of their inane and pointless babble.

But life for a charismatic, amazing, potentially globe straddling megastar isn't easy, and neither, it seems, is life for Ray, as he had to leave his family behind to go and turn in a crappy public appearence at a shopping centre, where a crowd of surly looking teenagers where enthusiastically shouting his name. "That was the best thing ever to happen in my entire lifetime", was Ray's summing up of the experience, which is a good thing, as having teenagers shout at him is going to be a regular part of his life from now on. And throwing things at him. Probably spitting, too.

Kicking off his attempt to steal the victor's tiara from under Leona's nose, Ray once again gives us his horrendous version of My Way, imbuing it with all the sort of fake sincerity and bad overacting you'd expect from someone who used to act... sorry, stand in front of the cameras on Brookside. "You're teflon!", declared Simon, presumably as a compliment. His suit was certainly made of it, anyway. "Words can't describe how much I feel for everyone that's voted for me!" was Ray's contribution. We know a word that describes how we feel about all his voters: "Sick", even more so when we cut to the hall in Liverpool where, in the company of Jeff Brazier - the Essex version of Ray: unpleasant, unlikeable, uncharasimatic, slightly deformed in the face but still carving out a career in public life for entirely unfathomable reasongs - a load of scousers were doing their best to embarrass themselves on national TV, and largely succeeding. We don't know how much they were being paid to publicly out themselves on TV as Ray fans, but whatever it was, it wasn't enough.

Next up was Leona, who in the past week was amazed by getting to ride in a limo, which is a bit like being amazed by someone delivering your post, "Right to your door!". Limo's are ten-a-penny these days, surely, and meeting someone who's not been driven somewhere in a car whose main selling point is it's inability to do U-turns is the only thing about them that would genuinely count as amazing. Hell, we once got a limo because we couldn't get a taxi in time and we're not, beleive it or not, superstar celebrities. "It's like a fairytale", she said, because she is nothing more than a walking cliche.

She opened, once again, with her take on I Will Always Love You, and it struck us that if she would just stop concentrating so much on her singing and actually relaxed enough to allow a bit of emotion come through. She managed this on a couple of occasions here, but to be honest, it doesn't really matter whether she connects emotionally with the song or not, either way her career will stretch out before her as a serious of dull yet overwrought ballads, destined to be played as the first dance at particularly unimaginative couple's weddings. The judges were particularly rhapsodic about her performance, as were the crowd in East London where Mylene Klass, fresh from spending two weeks in a bikini in the jungle - or at least that's the impression we got from the newspapers - was presiding over the events. As Leona is the first girl to make it to the X Factor final, Mylene reckons that history is being made tonight and, indeed, all over the country historians were preparing to tear out the World War II pages from their history books to make space for this important event. David Starkey has already been commisioned to make a five part series for Channel 4 on the events leading up to this, and The Guardian is going to do a wallchart. Though the latter is entirely unrelated, they just like doing wallcharts.

But while we may be down to two finalists, many, many more than them went by the wayside in the auditions stage, and so we get a chance to see some of the highlights of those who didn't quite make the grade and seemed mainly to feature people crying, like some failed pitch for the Kleenex advertising contract. One person who, had he gotten into the final 12, would now doubt have ended up with a sponsorship deal from Kleenex was Shaun who, you may remember, was more tear duct than man and the few parts of him that weren't comprised entirely of bitter, salty water were composed of sheep. He was, in short, an annoying little shit but would, at least, have been more palatable than Ray. Anyway, for some reason, and not because they desperately needed to fill up airtime, he was invited back on to sing Right Here Waiting. No longer looking 12 - he now looks at least 14 - his performance was pretty unremarkable and it's safe to say that we didn't really miss much by his failure to make the final cut.

But now it's time for Ray to return and this time he's dressed in a tux, like an annoyingly precocious child going to a fancy dress party as James Bond. This time it was That's Life, which is appropriate as Ray has a willy shaped like a parsnip, except it wasn't just Ray doing it, oh no. The doors at the back of the stage opened to reveal none other than Westlife, and if ever there was a need for an assassin with five bullets, then this was it. Although we'd still reccommend that they were all used on Ray, just in case. It was an embarassingly awful performance, even if they were probably only chosen as they were the only men in the country uglier than Ray. He is also probably the only person in the world who would respond to the question "You're a fan of Westlife, aren't you?" with "Of course, They did a swing album!", which is normally the response to the question "You hate Westlife, don't you?"

So Leona was up next, and who would she have backing her? One of the country's more successful girl bands? It seems unlikely, how would Louis know Girls Aloud's number? And so, once again giving us a Da Vinci Code style clue into what will make up the bulk of her career, the backing track of A Million Love Songs pipes up and Leona, wearing a very lovely dress, is soon joined by Take That - presumably a Boy Bands Who've Carried on After Losing a Member conference was taking place next door to the studio - and it was all rather lovely, or it would have been if it wasn't for the fact that Gary looked like someone who was currently out on parole for Christmas.

A reprise of the more embarassing auditons follows, before arriving on stage are some of the more hopeless, laughable and talentless acts who tried to enter the contest, so out walk The MacDonald Brothers, Robert, 4 Sure... oh, hang on, sorry it's more about the bad auditionees. After being introduced by Edna, the woman who told Simon he was rude after he justifiably laughed at her hopeless daughter, various awful acts appeared to mangle Earth Song, including the twins who made it to bootcamp and some woman who managed to make the most of her time in the spotlight by forgetting to actually sing and staring blankly at the camera. The only place there was less dignity and self-respect in the world than that is a whole room full of misprinted dictionaries.

With the inevitablity of a dog returning to its own vomit, we return once again to Ray, who regails us with Fly Me To the Moon, showing that while the great pop artists paint from a multi-coloured paintbox, Ray's remains resolutely filled with nothing more than grey. As is his canvas, for that matter. "If I win I'll roll into a ball and die", he said, and if ever there was a more desperate bid to get votes then we've never heard it.

Leona finishes things off with All By Myself, and it's no surprise that she doesn't want to be all by herself. Without a personality to call her own it's probably a bit like being a ventirolquist's dummy, stuck in a box, waiting for someone to... well, you get the picture. Not that Simon agrees that her charisma free lifestyle is a bad thing: "If lack of personality means a shy girl who's not aware of her talent then give me lack of personality!", which would, perhaps, be fine if it wasn't for the fact that 'lack of personality' doesn't mean that. It means that a cardboard tube would have more stage presence than her and her shyness has nothing whatsoever to do with it. Being a good pop star is more than just being a good singer, it's about grabbing the imagination, sparkling and shining, or, to put it more bluntly, they need to be someone you actually give a shit about. Leona's an excellent singer, but she's not any more than that.

And so, that's it for the main show, but not before all the X Factor finalists take the stage to sing That's What Friends Are For, although for some reason, neither 4Sure, Kerry, The Unconventionals or Dionne get to sing a solo line and are left only for the eagle-eyed to spot as the camera pans across as everyone joins in on the chorus. "How special was that?!" asks Kate. Very special, Kate, Very special indeed.

So, Results time. Except they have to stretch that out to godawful lengths as well, so first of all Take That perform Patience for what seems like the millionth time, before we get to see Andi Peters overseeing the preperations - i.e. getting in the way - at the CD pressing plant which will seen be churning out millions of copies of the winner's CD, virtually all of which are destined to remain unlistened before turning up at your local charity shop in bundles of a dozen for 10p.

Then, it's the big moment, the chance for us to hear exactly what this years X Factor single, A Moment Like This will sound like, although if you missed the premiere, don't worry, you'll be hearing it a million or so times over the next month, even if you're unlikely to even be vaguely able to recall it once January's been and gone. It is, surprise, surprise, a dull ballad with a vague metaphor about how the X Factor is a bit like life and sounds exactly like you'd expect it to and, of course, has a gospel choir coming in half way through. Both Ray and Leona gave us their versions, Leona's was undoubtedly better, but they were still both nothing anyone would actually choose to listen to and served mainly to demonstrate exactly how out of touch the X Factor is with modern pop music. A moment like this? A moment like piss, more like. Arf, etc.

But still we don't get to find out who won, as we first have to go backstage with Ray and Leona to find out how they're feeling. Not only do we have to endure an entirely pointless set of interviews with their friends and family - guess what, they're all quite proud of Ray/Leona, who'd have guessed - though as it revealed that Ray's dad is also called Ray, it did at least demonstrate exactly where he gets his lack of imagination from, we also had to sit through their highlights packages, revealing that Ray's time on the show was mainly spent being a cunt, while Leona's was spent singing quite high and looking like she's about to burst into tears.

Finally, we get to the announcement. Finally! And with no sense of surprise or shock whatsoever, it's not Ray! Hooray! Confetti cannons fire and this year's winner nearly has a heart attack, which would have put something of a dampener on things. Eventually she calmed down and looked a bit chuffed, but was still unable to come up with much more to say than "I'm speechless", something she's more than demonstrated over the last two and a half months. Simon was proud, Leona sings again, all the X Factor finalists join in for the final chorus, with Ray doing his very best to get into shot and actively mauling her just as soon as is decently possible and it's all over for another year so we can all, and we really can't use this word enough, finally go home.

That's it for another year. Please don't make us do it again in 2007. We really don't think we can cope.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

Week 9 of X Factor, and you know what? We're don't think we'll bother running this feature next time around and this year's show is seriously drying up our critical faculties. Every week it's the same acts doing the same thing and we're seriously struggling to come up with new things to say about them. We could probably easily review the show without even bothering to watch it, just by saying "Ben: Good at what he does but hardly relevant in this day and age; Leona: technically good but utterly dull; Ray: Smug, smug, smug, smug cunty, cunty, git" and still cover all the main points, but we do have some professionalism, and so, with a heavy heart, and the thought of trying to come up with new ways of saying "they're a bit rubbish, aren't they" weighing even heavier upon our shoulders, we once again sat down to see what the semi-finalists had to offer us.

"This week there's no theme", Kate (Dresswatch: Kate this week elected to wear a man's suit with a woman's shirt. It was not a good look.) told us. Instad the acts would sing the two songs that they felt would be most likely to get them into the final and, despite the fact that a plea from them to never ever sing again should they do so would have been most likely to garner votes, they all of the judges acts insisted on actually singing for their supper. The fools! Well, we say all of the judges, but after the MacDonald Brothers finally left the contest last week, Louis is out of the contest and it's now between Simon and Sharon for the all important title of "Judge who got Luckiest at the Audition Stage". "I don't want to be in the middle of those two?!", said Louis, hilariously, on the subject, forgetting presumably that he always sits to the right of both of them so didn't need to worry about it.

First up was Ray and, as he was keen to say - and to prove that he was barely literate - he "was like 'Oh my God' I'm in the semi final!". We've had a similar, yet very differnt, thought every single week that he's progressed through the contest. His mum says that "He's the baby of the competition, but he's a man when he gets on stage". And he is, in much the same way Divine was. He strode on stage wearing a cheap, shiny, horrible grey suit and proceeded to do a cheap, shiny, horrible grey version of Smile, with all the dusty, decaying, crumbling, lifelessness you'd expect from someone who treats music like it's some sort of dead squid from the past, rather than the vibrant, exciting, thrilling and moving thing it so very clearly is. We felt sorry for his parents. If we were his parent then not only would we have made headlines at the time due to the biological unlikelyhood - not to mention the social unacceptedness - of our age at the time, but we would also now at the very least be trying to disown him, but more likely we'd be desperately attempting to invent a time machine so we could go back and give our past self a pack of condoms and detailed instructions on what to do with them.

For his second song he wanted to do something that would make the whole of Liverpool proud of him. If he came from our city, we'd want him just to bugger off and die, but Liverpudlians are an odd sort and are genuinely proud that Cilla Black comes from their city, so they probably were moved - and not in the bowel sense - by his performance of You'll Never Walk Alone. It could have been worse, at least it wasn't Ferry Cross the Mersey, but even the MacDonald Brothers managed to resist the temptation to do Flower of Scotland, no doubt realising it would be a bit crass, and it's not even like it's a good song, a clunking melody with a mawkish lyrical conceit. Whether you hold your head up high or not, it really doesn't matter, when you walk through a storm you get wet. Despite, or perhaps because of, the heavy handed simplicity of the song's message, Ray got a bit overwhelmed by it, wiping his eyes and immediatly turning away from the camera at the end of the song, almost so he'd be able, free from the prying gaze of the lens, to forcibly ram his thumb into his eyes to produce some tears in a cynical attempt to grab a few more votes, but far be it from us to suggest such a thing.

Leona, as with virtually all girls on these sorts of shows, was wearing far too much lipgloss. We mention this as it was probably the most interesting thing about her performance of Whitney Houston's I Have Nothing. The song itself is a predictable bore down the "I am woman, I will survive, Hear me roar, etc, etc" path and Leona's version of it was similarily predictably boring. As we've said about a million times before, she is a good singer, but they keep giving her such boring songs to sing. Close your eyes and it's fine, but open them and you might as well be watching wallpaper.

Second song and, following on from Ray's crocodile tears, Leona is also pulling out the emotion card, playing the overused "Death in the family" hand. It was her cousin that died, and obviously this song means a lot to her, and naturally is verypersonal, so she'll just have to sing it in front of millions of people and prostitute it so she can stay in a glorified talent contest. "It's not about winning", though, she said. Of course it's not, Leona, of course it's not. The very personal song she did was from The Wizard of Oz, and we're not entirely sure that Ding Dong the Witch is Dead was entirely appropriate. Oh, OK, we're joking, it was Somewhere Over the Rainbow and, as is traditional on these shows, the simplicity of the melody which gives the song it's emotional purity was messed around with so as to give her the chance to warble around and generally show off her vocal range, though remember she's only doing this for her cousin and not to win the contest. Of course, despite the fact that she was singing about something that was a genuinely sad thing for her, she still failed to demonstrate any sort of emotional connection with the material! Is this girl some sort of rock? Is her singing really so unconnected to her glands that she can't express any feelings while working her larynx? Does she, to put it bluntly, not give a fuck?

Oh well, never mind, Ben doesn't seem to give much of a fuck either. He's been wondering whether he's good enough to win it, and is generally giving off the impression that win or lose, he'll take it with good grace and just grin sheepishly in that way he does so well, although he does say that he wants to get into the final as it "means everything" to him. To this end, his first song of the night is Everything I Do (I Do it For You), presumably because as yet no-one has written a song called Vote for me! Please, Vote for Me, Godammit! I Don't Want to Go Back to Erecting Marquees.

He elected to sing his mum's favourite song for his second choice, but unfortunately for him his mum's still happily breathing, thus denying him that particular emotional hook to hang the song on. He must have been kicking himself for his family's good health. His mum's favourite song, apparently, is I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, from which we can deduce that a) she has no taste in music whatsoever, and b) Ben doesn't stand a hope in hell of making it through to the next round.

Results time and, after Gloria Estefan, along with three girl dancers wearing the eightiest dresses in the world, ran through a greatest hits medley - and by medley they mean playing a bit of one song, followed by a slightly awkward pause, followed by a bit of another song, another awkward pause, then a third song - for no apparent reason whatsoever, it was time to find out who our X Factor finalists were. First to make it through was Leona, who burst into tears demonstrating that she does have some emotions, leaving Ben and Ray to face the tension of the final announcement. As Kate paused to let the pressure build the crowd began shouting "Bray! Bray!", either because of mixed loyalties or as a damning criticism of the donkey like singing we'd heard tonight. Either way, Kate ignored them and stated that Ben was going to be saying his goodbyes. She tried to sweeten the pill by saying that was only 3% of the vote in it, but, given that if we assume her figure of 3,500,000 million votes cast is accurate, this means that over 100,000 people couldn't give a toss about him. We're not exactly talking Florida 2000 recount territory here. He took his failure with the expected good grace and buggered off, back to the obscurity from whence he came. Let's hope he still knows his way around a tent.

It's the final next week, Ray vs Leona, thank fuck for that. For it being the final, that is, not for it being

Labels: X Factor 2007

Week 8 - Eight! - of X Factor and things are hotting up! Well, getting slightly lukewarm at any rate. With Eton Road out we didn't think our not exactly enthusiastic support for Leona would get us through the Saturday evening, so for this week's episode we turned to drink. Yes, we're surprised it's taken us this long as well. On the plus side, it did make the viewing experience a lot more pleasurable than normal, but on the downside our notes, illegible enough at the best of times thanks to our completely awful handwriting, are now requiring something akin to the Rosetta stone to decipher. We apologise in advance for any inaccuracies, missed moments and claims that the MacDonald Brothers might have actually been in some way entertaining. Sorry.

Kate Thornton (Dresswatch: A fuscia one shoulder dress which, despite making her arms look a bit chunky, made her look quite fetching. Mind you, we found that she looked more and more fetching as the evening wore on. We blame the alcohol.) had a bit of exposition to do tonight, as this week marks the moment where the pointless 'rivalry' between the judges finally comes to an end and only the viewers' vote counts towards who gets the boot. She also had the less than envious task of trying to be enthusiastic about introducing this week's guest star, the frankly terrifying looking Barry Manilow. Clearly a choice which indicates that the X Factor bosses have given up any pretence at being a vaguely youthful TV show and have firmly accepted that most of their viewers are of the granny variety. Ray might as well start polishing his crown already, even if it means he won't have enough time to spend on his favourite activity: polishing his helmet.

Realising that even the most rabid Barry Manilow fan would have trouble stomaching the generally talent avoiding acts left in the contest covering two Barry Manilow songs - and realising that most of them would have been hard pushed to have even named any other Barry Manilow songs apart from Copacabana - we were spared that particular nightmare, and instead for the second song the acts were given free reign to perform any song they liked. Well, they said free reign. We imagine that if any of them had expressed a desire to perform anything by the incredibly unpleasant Anal Cunt, or had Ben decided he wanted to perform the full 25 minutes of Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells, they might have found themselves encouraged to move in a different direction. Although, given what Ben, did decide to come up with, we can only wish though reins had been pulled a bit tighter.

But that's not til later, first up are The MacDonald Brothers and one of them attempted, despite the clear evidence to the contrary throughout this contest, to convince us that he can feel some sort of emotion. "I almost burst into tears", was his recollection of how he felt after Simon 'complimented' them - in a very damning with faint praise kinda way - last week. Really? We could have sworn they just stood their expressionlessly while mumbling how they were going to take what the judges said on board, just like they've done every single bloody week since this contest started. Still, Barry liked them, being "surprised at how wonderful they sounded", which, to be fair, we can relate to. We'd be gobsmacked if we ever heard them sounding wonderful. He also complimented them on the fact it was "in tune", which is hardly the sort of quote you can stick on your publicity material. For once they managed to avoid dressing in matching outfits like a pair of toddlers being taken out by their grandmother for their first song, Can't Smile Without You, and it was clearly at this point that the alcohol started kicking in as we found it almost pleasant. Almost we hasten to stress. Their harmonies were off, and the dark haired one seemed to find singing in tune almost as hard a task as he finds being even vaguely trendier than Barry Manilow, but had it been just Blondie on his own it would probably have been halfway listenable to. Simon, perhaps, inevitably - whether because he's not been drinking or not, we can't say - disagreed, describing it as their "Weakest performance so far", while Louis, somewhat half-heartedly and certainly lacking conviction, claimed it was "A good performance".

Ray, who no doubt sees Barry as some sort of God, was up next, declared himself to be "A little fighter", and we can only hope that he decides to try and prove this by stepping into the ring with anyone even remotely hard. Or even us. We reckon we could probably have him in a fight and we doubt we'd be able to beat JoJo at arm-wrestling, even if she used her left arm. He decided to do Mandy - well, it could have been worse, it could have been a swing version of Could it Be Magic - and, after Barry gave him some advice, declared he was going to think about who his Mandy was so he could sing it to her. Judging by the plastic look upon his face throughout, we can only assume, then, that he got confused and started thinking about Sindy instead. Can't we just slap an ASBO on him and be done with it? Or at least just slap him. Louis and Sharon were full of praise while Simon, his own mentor, told him he'd need to work a bit harder second time around, something he'll continue to hear once this contest is finally over. After all, those burgers won't cook themselves.

"My worst nightmare came true", confessed Ben, who with every passing week is looking more and more like Justin from The Darkness, "I was in the bottom two". Ben needs to start eating more cheese before he goes to bed and develop a better imagination. Dressed in an ill fitting suit and perched upon a stool, Ben took this horrible, painful experience, the sort of experience which even those suffering from poverty and famine wouldn't wish to endure, and used it as the inspiration for his Barry song, I Made it Through the Rain. Which was an apt choice, really, as being in the bottom two really is the sort of upsetting experience which is roughly akin to getting a bit damp. Either that or he was thinking about his days erecting marquees. "It spoke for itself", reckoned Sharon. Yup, dull, dull, dull, dull, dull.

We've finally figured out what our problem is with Leona. She's not so much an X Factor contestant, more someone playing a contestant in a film about a TV talent show. She's got the back story, the vocal talent, the looks, and the two dimensional characterisation and lack of emotional involvment which you'd expect from something like that. We wonder what Hugh Grant would have to say about her. Fair play to her, though, she definitely did something a bit different this week, going all Kelly Lorena on us with a camp, dancey, upbeat and hugely fun version of Could it Be Magic. Her dancing was better, if still slighly awkward, she looked fab, sang amazingly and did manage to tick all the boxes this week. If she is playing a part in a film, this will likely be leading up to the big twist where she gets voted off unexpectedly. We hope that's not the case.

So, with the first four songs out of the way, a plug for the DVD, and some rather unpleasant flirting betwixt Barry and Kate - "Don't ask me to give you one!" - as she tried to find out what Barry thought of the acts - Simon was the best singer, apparently - it was time for the second set of songs. And with the acts choosing exactly what they wanted to sing, this would surely be a chance for them to shine, to express themselves in a way they've not been able to do so far, to show us every single thing they've got. Did they succeed? Let's see, shall we..?

Back in matching outfits, the MacDonald Brothers are first to retake the stage and, given the entire spectrum of recorded music to choose from, what did they go for? Erm, Shang-a-lang by The Bay City Rollers and it was, frankly, brilliant. Yes, they might as well have just stood on stage holding a big sign saying "LooK! We're Scottish!" for all the relevance the song choice had - and they were even, Jesus wept, wearing tartan ties - but we love Shang-a-lang and even if it was performed by two braying donkeys using two bricks and a plank of wood as instrumentation we'd still have loved it. But even without our blindly uncritical acceptance of any Shang-a-lang cover, it would still have been an enjoyable performance, they were having fun, looked relaxed for the first time ever on the show, getting the crowd going and looking, despite doing a seventies cover, almost relevant. Not that such thoughts troubled Simon, however, "This is your final week", he predicted.

"It's got Ray Quinn stamped all over it", smugged Ray as he VTd his track. But what song could truely sum up Ray's personality? Is there a song called "Talentless Prick With No Self-Awareness Whatsover"? Whatever, Ray would have ignored that choice anyway, what with him being a talentless prick with no self-awareness whatsoever. Instead he gave us My Way - Simon: "When he told me what song he was going to sing I dropped the phone". And rushed round to strangle him with the flex, he failed to add - and it wasn't as awful as you would have expected. Mainly because no matter how sordid and unpleasant your imagination, how troubled a childhood you may have had, and how low your expectations of Ray may have been, you still wouldn't have come close to imagining just how dreadful this was. We're talking definitive proof that the devil has the worst tunes. Not that such thoughts bothered Simon: "You now deserve a place in the semi-final". Ray doesn't even deserve a seat on the bus.

So, to Ben. And after ending up in the bottom two last week, he needed to pull out something pretty special this week to get the public back on side, and what did he go for? A rendition of Queen's Somebody to Love, accompanied only by a choir and the audience's out of time clapping. We're not quite sure exactly what he was trying to do here, but whatever it was it didn't quite work, unless he genuinely was attempting to create something of an embarassing mess on stage. Which hardly strikes us as a vote winner. All the judges congratulated on his bravery, which allowed them to avoid pointing out the sheer awfulness of what they'd just seen.

Finally Leona, and guess what, she's finally pulled out the Without You card out of the bag - it really is the big climax to an X Factor film, isn't it? - and, as always, vocally it was excellent, but she still seems more like a girl in her bedroom pretending to be a star rather than an actual star. Louis reckons she's the new Mariah. We worry she'll end up as the new Jayne MacDonald.

So, results time, and without the sing off to fill up 6 minutes of air time, the show is even more packed with filler than usual. Barry sings for a bit, Kate asks him the same questions she did first time around, there's some pointless backstage banter before we finally get around to the business of booting out the brainless. Ray is the first to be told he's coming back next week, and looks exactly like a monkey as he celebrates. Leona is next, and does her usual shocked, amazed, "Oh, I can't beleive they like me, they really like me!" expression. Ben and the MacDonald Brothers face each other down, Ben is practically crying, while the MacDonalds look resigned to their fate. Kate attempts to ramp up the tension, but even she can't last and, with a hint of a smile playing around her lips, she gives the announcement we've all been waiting for for a long, long time - OK, eight weeks, but it seems like longer - the MacDonald Brothers are out! Ah, let's take a moment to savour that news, shall we?






Mmmm, feels good, doesn't it? Of course, it's slightly ironic that they're leaving in what was probably their best week, but we're not going to shed any tears. And certainly Simon won't, who could be seen grinning away quite happily as the news was announced. "But I won last year!", said Louis, who is now out of the contest and offering a look at what the English cricket team will be saying in a few weeks time. "I'm sure they'll have great future in the music industry", he added, but was noticeable in his reluctance to actually put his money where his mouth was with them as he did with Eton Road. They got to do perform for one final - hopefully in the literal sense - time and Kate, in an effort to leave us remembering them as having some sort of personality, attempts to get them to say something rude about Simon, now that they're out of the competition and don't need to be polite any more, but as they're both as dull as a kettle covered in grey matt paint, they just mumbled their usual pleasantries.

Semi-finals next week. We think we're going to need something a bit stronger.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

Week 7 of X Factor and settling down to watch this week's show is even more of a chore than usual as we've just received the first 6 episodes of the new series of Lost to watch and frankly we're a lot more interested in what their Kate has been getting up to. Still, the voiceover man reckons we should be getting excited as there's only 5 acts remaining and the battle, or so he claims, is intensifying. Of course, it's hard to put much stock in his claims given that while we can happily go along with his statement that "There's been agony..." - we've sat through every single painful minute of the MacDonald Brothers' performances, remember - it's a lot harder to take him seriously when he declares that "There's been ecstacy", unless he's imply making a confession that the only way he can cope with watching the whole mess unfold week after sorry week is by necking loads of the world reknowned blood boiling, brain fizzing pill, but at least he's getting paid for it.

There's a few changes this week, as Kate (Dresswatch: Looking rather dapper in a gold halter top with black trousers and a nice belt. Other than the trousers being a little on the high waisted side, it was hard to fault. Hooray!) informs us that each act will be performing two songs this week. Two?! Most of the remaining contestants barely have enough personality to cover one song, let alone two, and we're still not entirely convinced that being an annoying twat actually counts as a personality. Each act will perform one ballad and one up tempo number, there being, of course, no other form of music, and the theme is music from the movies, which pretty much translates as "Do any song you like, we've given up caring".

First up is Leona and we finally get to see her do something which isn't a ballad as she launches herself into Lady Marmalade. Of course, we say 'launches', in actual fact, if she were a ship, she'd have just attempted to set sail at low tide and almost immediatly ran aground upon a sandbank, miles and miles away from her intended destination. She clearly wasn't comfortable at all with the song, studiously avoiding doing any sort of vaguely sexy dancing and changing the lyrics to what we assume - our french goes little further than "Parlesz vous anglais?" (obviously it doesn't extend to the correct spellings either) and optimistic pointing combined with the art of mime - were tamer than the more traditional "Would you like to sleep with me?". The backing track didn't help matters either, being so entirely lacking in oomph that we can only assume it was rescued from the demo tapes of an unreleased album of covers by Sade. Despite this, the audience seemed entirely amazed by the prospect of an artist doing something different to what they've done before and gave her a deafening round of applause, with Simon looking very smug at the reaction his act was getting "You got it all going on, girl", said Louis, who's never been in a branch of Netto, let alone the ghetto.

After a costume change into the obligatory nice dress, her second song was a return to her comfort zone and the almost equally obligatory cover of I Will Always Love You, chosen presumably just so she could hit that note and hit it she sure did, even if her eyes still continually dart about the stage like a frightened rabbit and there still being very little in the way of actual emotion about what she does. If it wasn't for the fear in her eyes, we'd be convinced she's a robot, and not the good, Ladytron, Miss Kittin-esque robots either. As it is, however, we reckon that if you cut her in half you'd not find a mass of circuit boards and wires, but instead you'd discover both the phrase "Technically good but dull" running through her like a a stick of rock and yourself on the receiving end of a murder conviction. "As good as the original Whitney version", reckoned Louis, which surprised us as we'd have felt sure he'd have an expert knowledge of Dolly Parton's back catalogue.

All the acts got to go to a film premiere this week, and The MacDonald Brothers were particularly overawed by the experience. "We're just a couple of lads from Scotland", they exclaimed breathlessly, presumably confusing their home country with some sort of backwards village were the inhabitants would be excited by the prospect of flashing lights and electricity, let alone this new fangled idea of moving pictures. Mind you, they do come from Ayr. First up for them was You Say it Best When You Say Nothing At All, which impressed us by managingo to sound even more anodyne than the Ronan Keating version. If Daniel O'Donnell had recorded this even he'd reject it for being a bit too bland and sexless, although they did attempt to inject a bit of raunch and manliness into it as they entered the final chorus, meeting with much the same success as a 14 year old boy growing a bumfluff moustache. "You look wicked", commented Sharon, who may well have cataracts, while Louis, ever confident about his act's prospects enthusiastically told them "You might even make the final!".

Feeling that perhaps they haven't quite hammered home the fact that they're from north of the border, they chose Scotland's unofficial national anthem, The Proclaimers' 500 Miles, a song so Scottish that even actual Scots have to put on a Scottish accent to sing along to it, for their second track of the night and, to be fair to them, they did a pretty good job of it, even Simon liked it. Of course, the fact that anyone can do a pretty good job of it - go to any city centre in Scotland once the pubs are closed for the awful proof - doesn't exactly shower them with glory, and they're now pandering even more to a shortbread tin version of Scotland that really doesn't exist outside of the Sunday Post and the imagination of Americans. There'll be bagpipes before the end of the series, we can pretty much guarantee it.

Ben by telling us about the pressure he's feeling, before banging on once again about bloody marquees. "He's what this contest needs", opines Sharon, presumably of the view that he'll be a handy man to have around when it comes to putting up the merchandise stand and the catering stalls during next year's X Factor tour. He was back behind the piano for both his tracks this week, starting off with Live and Let Die with big flame effects and all sorts of other exciting things, presumably intended to disguise the fact that there's not really a lot of actual words in the song, so we're not entirely sure what the point of doing it was, unless we're really supposed to be impressed by someone's ability to mime playing the piano.

Your Song was his ballad, and the strain of playing the 'rock' role on the show must be beginning to get to him as his performance was less like a man growling his way through the lyrics with the grit of a working man, more like a man trying to put on a husky voice in a hopeless attempt to convince his boss he's got a sore throat and so is full deserving of a day off work. Also, we're somewhat disturbed as we're convinced that the close up shots of him emoting as we reach - for want of a better word - the song's climax means that we've know seen what his sex face is like. Urgh. "The only way I'm going home tonight is if I don't get enough votes", he reckoned. Are the show's bosses so desperate to preserve profits that they won't even spring for a taxi?

Eton Road, who have gone remarkably downhill since we declared our support for them, got to return home to Liverpool and turn on the Christmas lights - we bet Ray was pissed at that - and, judging by the hysteria that greeted them, proved to be the most exciting thing that Liverpudlians have ever seen. Mind you, they reckon that Cilla Black is something of a national treasure, so it's perhaps best to treat their enthusiasm with a healthy dollop of scepticism. Their first song of the night started off as an unfortunate doo-wop version of Everybody Needs Somebody from The Blues Brothers which, nice harmonies aside, lacked balls, and we're not just referring to the falsettos on display, but the time they got to the bridge things were pulled back from the brink of disaster and we began to remember why we liked them so much in the first place. Louis called Simon "Mr Spandex", who we can only assume is some sort of superhero who appears in adult videos for the discerning gentleman.

Presumably hoping to cash in on the success of the Beeb's "Look how simultaneously cute and vicious animals are!" documentary Planet Earth, they decided to bang on about lions for their ballad, covering Can You Feel the Love Tonight?. Not their finest hour, really, featuring some incredibly wobbly vocals from the blonde one and a performance from Antony which appeared to come not from the heart, but from a desperate urge to go to the toilet and being unable to do so.

Finally, Ray - and we look forward to ending that sentence one day with the phrase "has been justifiably kicked out of the competition for being shit" - smugged his way through The Way You Look Tonight, presumably managing to get an emotional connection with the song only by picturing himself singing it to the one person he truly loves and imagining a gigantic mirror placed in front of him for the entire performance. He seems to picture Nicholas Lyndhurst in Goodnight Sweetheart as a role model - at least when S Club 7 went back to the fifties they dressed up in poodle skirts and embraced rock and roll - but his peformance tonight no doubt made a million grandmothers all around the country feel some downstairs feelings they haven't felt for a long, long time. "I just wanna keep putting smiles on people's faces", he claims, but if that really was the case then he'd be getting busy right now with a rusty saw and a mouthful of nails.

His final choice was possibly the world's most popular paean to prison rape, Jailhouse Rock. Few people wish to be told that they're the "cutest jailbird I ever did see" on their first night in jail, but fewer still would wish to have the ever smackable face of Ray grinning inanely as he sings a song about their plight. Proving that, along with the many, many artists he's already shown that he can't hold a candle to, he's no Elvis either - who'da thought - he attempted to do some sexy, pelvis based dance moves. When Elvis appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, they only shot him from the waist up for fear that the young audience would be driven wild by being reminded that people had genitals, but if only ITV had had a similar policy, the X Factor's young audience wouldn't have had to spend the rest of the evening wildly vomiting everywhere after the sheer unpleasantness of what they had to endure. At the end he leaned back and folded his arms as his to say "Job done". What an unjustifiably smug cunt.

After all that entertainment, it was time for the results and, after a performance from Il Divo for no apparent reason - and what, now we come to think of it, ever did happen to G4 - it was time for the results and once again the great British public prove conclusively that democracy simply doesn't work as Ray and The MacDonald Brothers find themselves safe, sound, and returning to demonstrate their clear hatred for music for another week. Leona joins them, and so it is that Ben and Eton Road find themselves fighting to stay in the last four. Somewhat foolishly, they both decide to reperform their worst song, with Eton Road's second rendition of Can You Feel the Love Tonight still suffering from some dodgy harmonies, the wobbliness of the blonde one's voice and the fact that Antony's Xtra Factor commitments hasn't allowed him the time to go and take the toilet break he clearly desperately needed. Our criticisms of Ben's take on Your Song still stand, although at least this time he'd stand a bit more chance of convincing his boss to give him the time off as he was no doubt feeling very, very sick indeed.

When it came down to the judges vote, there were no real surprises. Louis gave his usual, "oh, neither of these acts deserve this" spiel before sending home Ben. Sharon did goldfish impersonations before sending Eton Road home, while Simon built up his part, claiming to be deciding whether he should protect his acts by sending home the stronger act, or be true to the spirit of the show and keep the person with the most talent. Whatever his actual reasonings were, it was Eton Road who got the chop and, given they were unlikely ever to top their version of Does Your Mother Know?, we suppose we can't really blame him. Louis has, however, declared on live national TV that he will be sticking with the boys and getting them a recording contract, so with that in mind, this will probably be the last we'll ever see of them.

Again, Kate kept schtum about who might be guesting next week, but if it's someone on a par with Il Divo then no wonder they're keeping it under wraps. Who could take the excitement? We're off now to watch our Lost DVD's and discover, if not the truth about the island, then at least a whole new level of ignorance about it which had never even occured to us before.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

It's Week 6 of X Factor and the always excitable Kate Thornton (Dresswatch: a very nice knee length red shift dress, spoilt only by the thick black tights she chose to team it with) informs us that this week the show is going to be celebrating number ones, so who better to represent this than a bunch of number twos? Yes, that's right, our special guests for this week are none other than Westlife who, as the flashy statistics depressingly inform us, have had 14 of the buggers. This is the sort of fact that drives people to murder. Hopefully. But no matter, they're here, and not only will they be, oh joy of joys, singing us a song later on, but they've also spent the week coaching the acts and giving them the benefit of their years of experience in the music industry. We're not quite sure what advice they'll be offering the contestants: "No matter how much you may be tempted, remain seated until you hear the key change and not a second before", perhaps, or "Daz is the best for keeping your stage clothes brilliantly white", maybe.

Ray is first up this week, and he's having a bit of a moan about having been in the danger zone last week. "You don't wanna be in the bottom two, you wanna be the best", which frankly is setting his sights a little too high. Perhaps he should simply aim for being halfway tolerable. He can, after all, only work with what he's got. Simon decided to flesh out his decision to keep Ray in ahead of Nikitta, stating "I kept Ray in because I believe that's what the audience want". Presumably, then, Simon has access to audience profiling which states that the average X Factor viewer is a cloth eared simpleton which, given the sort of people who generally end up doing well in these sorts of shows, we can happily believe. Westlife were on hand to help Ray raise his game, and suggested that he needed to show more variety. Yes, you have read that correctly, Westlife, a band whose career is pretty much a solid stream of grey or, to be a little more accurate, brown, are telling someone else that they need to show a little more light and shade. Jesus wept. This is a little like an elephant telling a meerkat that need to come in a more varied range of sizes. No matter, Ray takes this advice on board and decides to perform Livin' La Vida Loca, resisting the temptation to turn it into a swing song. Hallelujah! Of course, there's one thing about his performance that refuses to change and while it may not have been a swing song, it was still insufferably shit. Horribly out of tune with some absolutely terrible dancing to go with it. There was a lot of arse shaking going on and, once the arse had finished shaking his arms, he began wiggling his bum a bit as well. It was a truly awful experience. "You remind me of panto boy", said Sharon, which is presumably some sort of very low rent superhero, while Louis praised him for his good work ethic, which isn't what most people would hail as a necessity for a pop star and hardly a selling point. Certainly we wouldn't rush to buy a single that had "Good Work Ethic!" written upon a sticker on the front.

"Last week's performance really got me back up there", beamed Robert, presumably thanking God that his sister died, thus allowing him a bit of an emotional back story. He was also quite excited about meeting Westlife, which does seem rather unlikely, but Sharon was quick to reassure us that "He's seen what they've done and he wants a piece of it", and who wouldn't? We'd all like to make such a little go such a long way. Having realised that acting like an arse gets him no votes whatsoever while pretending to be a bit vulnerable and emotional gets him the hormonal women block, Robert does You are Not Alone which is vaguely pleasant but hardly earth shattering and does, by the end of the song, incorporate the now traditional X Factor gospel choir, a tactic always used when one of the judges realises that one of their acts performances is as memorable as an episode of Play Your Cards Right. The judges were universally complimentary and Robert was quick to thank them all, before turning to Sharon and saying "Especially to you, mum". Eh?! We don't even want to begin thinking about that one.

Also impressed by meeting Westlife were Eton Road, who declared them to be "The closest thing to our dream". Their dream presumably being to have their sort of success, only actually deserving of it. Unfortunately the weakness of last week's performance carried over into this week's one - though apparently they've all been laid low by illness - and their take on the Scissor Sisters' I Don't Feel Like Dancing was more a nightclub sing-a-long than a slice of boyband fantasticness. The bloke who wasn't Antony really shouldn't have attempted a falsetto, but then Antony - wearing a pair of remarkably high waisted trousers - wasn't really hitting the mark either. It was all a bit of a disappointing mess really, and while Louis may reckon that they brought "Glitter and sparkle" to the stage, tonight they did so in much the way a five year old brings glitter and sparkle to a gluing project at primary school.

We still find watching Leona perform an experience not entirely unlike watching paint dry, or something even more boring, like watching Westlife sing live. Very good, musical, beautiful paint, admittedly, but still paint. Bridge Over Troubled Water was her song of choice and while, yes, she sang it brilliantly and there can be no quibbling over the notes she hit and her command of the melody line, there's just no personality or originality in that makes it a Leona performance, rather than just a performance. She could, frankly, do a good job singing pretty much anything, and that is kinda what the problem is. "Everyone is buzzing about you in America", claimed Simon, who'd been in LA for the week, something Louis was at pains to draw attention to at every possible opportunity in a rather irritating way, but we somehow find it hard to believe that anyone in America even knows that our series of X Factor is on air right now, let alone takes any sort of interest in the contestants.

Ben, apparently, is not coping with the pressure very well. If he's feeling this stressed at this stage in the competition then god knows what he'll be like if he does, as is being widely predicted, make it through to the final. Perhaps we'll see a live on-stage breakdown. But if the nerves are getting to him, then they didn't show while he performed A Little Help From My Friends - the Joe Cocker version, naturally - even if they did appear to be affecting his backing singers, who were awful. It was pretty much exactly what you'd expect from Ben, although Louis seems less keen to tell him not to be such a one trick pony, preferring instead to call him powerful and claim there's a gap in the market for such an act. Something we're not entirely convinced about, but what do we know? We still reckon there's a market for a Girl Thing comeback.

Last, and certainly least, we have The MacDonald Brothers who received a confidence boost after meeting Westlife, and we're not surprised. It must be nice to realise that it is possible to carve out a successful career in the music industry despite being a set of pug ugly, charisma free rocks with all the musical talent of a gerbil. Demonstrating once again their talent for finding the nadir of a groups recorded output, and finding the nadir of Wet Wet Wet's career is some task, but they managed it, choosing to give us Love is All Around (And yes, we know The Troggs did it originally, but there's was definitely the WWW version), with the sort of cheesy, embarrassing pointlessness we've come to expect from them now. The only thing that's around them is the stench of failure and the unpleasant hint of vague incest as they still insist upon singing their songs to each other. If they want to do a song which two brothers can sing why not do Two Little Boys, at least it'd be appropriate for both their relationship and their level of talent. The judges gave their usual comments and the brothers responded by saying that they were doing it for the public and not for Simon, which clearly isn't true. If they were doing what the audience wanted we'd all be waking up tomorrow to headlines about two brothers found hanged in their dressing room.

After Westlife and Delta Goodrem fulfil their contract by grunting unpleasantly through their version of All Out of Love it's time for the results and oh for fuck's sake, the first two acts that are safe are The MacDonald Brothers and Ray. What exactly do these two acts need to do before the audience turns on them? They could come on stage and drown a kitten and probably still have the public wanting more. Anyway, despite what should have happened, the actual acts facing the chop this week are Robert, hooray!, and Eton Road, boo! Simon, who has the casting vote, promises that he'll be judging purely on performances, "Which means Robert, you're slightly ahead", and Eton Road's faces promptly drop and we prepared to say our farewells to them. Robert's second performance was full of even more vomit inducing fake sincerity and attempts to make his performance moving, which it was, in the bowels sense. Eton Road didn't really up their game enough second time around and while it was definitely better, it still sounded more like four random strangers singing along, rather than a band. Louis was in tears as he sent home Robert, while Sharon was less fussed as she sent Eton Road home, but she did take the time to point out that they provided the fun factor for the contest. Simon, after a bit of preamble, decided that he was going to keep the act who would progress furthest in the contest and thankfully that meant that Robert, for whom this was his third week in the bottom two, was taking the long walk back to the obscurity from whence he came. His dead sister may have saved him last week but, as Nikitta can testify, deceased relatives can only carry you so far. Robert took his failure with the sort of humility we've come to expect from him, stating that "It's not the last you've heard of me, I've been doing this game for a long time". which may be true, but given that up until now every door has been slammed firmly shut in your face it hardly bodes well for the future.

Kate may or may not have mentioned who the special guest is next week. We got distracted by the Hitori puzzle we'd been attempting to solve during the commercial breaks. Sometimes our Saturday nights are just too exciting.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

Week 5 of X Factor and the trauma continues on apace with the contestants tackling the somewhat vague genre of love songs. Julio Iglesias is the inspiration for this although he, as Kate Thornton (Dresswatch: Quite flattering black number along with a nice hairdo, spoilt only by her - and Sharon's - insistence on wearing a ridiculously large poppy, presumably to show how much the war dead meant to her. If she was that keen to show her love for the symbolism of the poppy she'd have been as well coming on stage monged out of her mind on Opium. It'd have been more dignified.) entirely failed to tell us, has far better things to be doing with his time than offering his views on the contestants or giving them some hints and tips during the week, and so will only be turning up for the results show where he won't bother his arse even interacting with the host in any way or form. And quite right too.

With a slightly less preamble filled opening than usual - though some time was made up with some "LAST WEEK" style deep voiced gubbins which may or may not have been useful or interesting; we fast forwarded our way through it - Ben opened the show and had he had any sort of gumption whatsoever, he could well have made something of a mark here by performing one of the great rock love songs. Whitesnake's Why Can't This Be Love?, perhaps. Or maybe even the full length version of Meat Loaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light - though to be fair Ben is likely to be even less convincing singing in the role of a teenager as he is as a credible rock star - but did he do either of those? Of course not! Why do something slightly unexpected when you can instead irritatingly growl your way through the entirely predictable, in every possible sense, Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith. It's ironic, really, given that he doesn't want to close his eyes for fear he might miss something, while we are all too ready to claw out our own eyes, safe in the knowledge that we've already forced ourself to see far, far too much. Following a VT in which he dissed his old profession of tent erecting - a little hastily perhaps, given that while 'gritty' voiced singers come and go, people always need marquees - he managed to put in a similarly workmanlike performance, even standing in front of a wind machine at one point, presumably in a bid to recreate the conditions in which he used to work in. Indeed, listening to him bang on in his intro footage you'd be forgiven for thinking that marquee erectors have the sort of squalid, unpleasant, horrible working conditions that we'd all thought had vanished from the days when kids where forced up chimneys and not just the minor travails of having to occasionally deal with slightly blustery weather.

According to Louis - a statement which pretty much instantly renders anything following it to be irrelevant - Simon owes the MacDonald Brothers an apology, which is hardly fair. After all, Simon wasn't the one who put them through to the final so he can't be held responsible for turning them into a laughing stock. Following the theme set out by Ben, the boys went back to the hotel where they'll soon be working. Sorry, used to work. As with Ben's performance, there were a couple of stools on stage. And those stools sat upon a couple of cushioned seats with no back support for their run through of Robbie Williams' She's the One. Now, to be entirely honest, their performance tonight was probably the best they've managed to put in so far, but remember that this is still the MacDonald Brothers we're talking about here, and comparing their performances is a little bit like comparing the relative strengths of fleas: sure, some will be stronger than others, but there's not really much chance of them challenging for the title of World's Strongest Man. However they receive a quite impressive, and presumably sarcastic, response from the audience. Simon's response was unsurprisingly lukewarm and Louis warned him that he should never go to Scotland, but we're not entirely sure we follow his logic. Since when has thinking that a shit band are a bit shit made anyone persona non grata North of the border?

Simon seemed unphased by the comment, declaring himself to be 25% Scottish, but next up is an act who is 100% cunt and that is, of course, Ray. "The bigger the audience, the better he performs", reckons that entirely unbiased judge of his performance, Ray's Mum. On the basis of the evidence so far, we reckon that Ray would need to perform before an audience comprising roughly 17 times the world's population before he became even vaguely palatable. Ray also went back to his old school for his VT segment, although slightly oddly there were no other pupils there, presumably for fear that he would once again be subject to the bullying that, if there is any justice whatsoever in the world, he was subjected to during his time there. He stood upon the school hall's stage and told us that the last time he was there he'd been dressed as a chicken, "The most embarrassing moment of my life", he added, despite the fact he'd just spent Saturday night performing a swing version of Waterloo. This week he performed, yawn, a swing version of Crazy Little Thing Called Love, imbuing his performance with all the passion and joy you'd expect from someone whose only experience of love to date is an encounter with the lingerie section of the Next directory. Appropriately enough, given he'd just been back to school, it was pretty much of the standard you'd expect of an act in a secondary school revue; dull, embarrassing, and of interest only if you're the kid's parents. Sharon wondered whether he would actually sell any albums, while Louis once again pointed out that he does the same thing every week before going to the backstage kitchen and telling the kettle it was black.

Nikitta was up next, and Simon admitted that he's managed to get it wrong every week for her, but Nikitta's not too fussed as she got to go home as well which can only mean one thing! Yes, more musings on her bloody dead mum. In between this, she managed to find time to muse upon her future in the contest: "I just don't wanna be sitting around this room just wishing". Don't worry, love, you won't be. Once you sign on you'll have to go for an interview at least every two weeks to prove you're actively seeking employment otherwise they won't give you your money. Once again it was a poor song choice for her, Last Dance by Donna Summer, and Nikitta once again failed to look comfortable, only ever looking relaxed once the song had finished and her ordeal had come to an end. The verses were better than the chorus, but there was a bit too much desperation there and the dancers simply highlighted her lack of stage presence, rather than disguised it. The judges seemed reasonably impressed, which made Nikitta happy enough to move away from the cliche of bursting into tears, instead settling on the even more annoying cliche of telling us that she's got so much more to give. We'd rather hear more about the dead mum.

Eton Road, who we are now firmly backing to win - which, gambling fans, means they're now a good bet to be voted off in the next couple of weeks thanks to our unerring reverse midas touch - decided, with the sort of predictability you'd expect from, well, Ray or Ben, chose to do From Me To You. Yes, that's right, a scouse band doing a Beatles song. What exactly is Louis Walsh paid for? On second thoughts, don't tell us. We don't think we want to know. On the plus side, at least it was an upbeat track and Antony - who in the kids photos we saw during their VT appeared to be dressed in drag - got to do a falsetto solo, but on the downside it was a very dated arrangement and the dance routine appeared to have been concocted in the bedroom of a teenage girl, but they just about managed to get away with it.

Ever since this contest started, we've held pretty solidly to the view that Leona has been, as you're no doubt bored to tears with us saying, technically a good singer, but has all the emotional range of a Grange Hill extra combined with a similar ability to merge into the background. This week, however, she managed to change our mind. Slightly. She still has all the stage presence of a mop and bucket, but if you closed your eyes for the first time she managed to not only hit all the right notes, but also connect emotionally with the song, Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word, and put in a damned fine, emotional, powerful, and impressive performance. All she needs to do now is learn that there's more to stagecraft than clutching at her dress every now and then and we might well have a worthy winner.

"We've saved the best to last", claimed Sharon, and our hopes rose as we prepared for her to announce that Robert had had a sudden flash of self awareness, realised he was a bit on the rubbish side and had withdrawn from the competition. But no, she apparently was genuinely just referring to the fact that Robert was about to perform. Having been in the bottom two for the last two weeks and realising that his irritating personality and not particularly impressive singing was likely to cause himself to be singing for survival once again this week, Robert has decided to go for a new tactic: emotional blackmail. "I sang this song at my sister's funeral", he declared, happily abusing a personal loss for his own gain, though at least it meant he would be unlikely to commemorate her memory by running around the stage like an arsehole. His version of Always and Forever was pleasant enough, but it's hardly the sort of thing you'd choose to listen to. Certainly we've got no desire to hear it sung at our funeral - we want James Blunt to be played. If we're dead we don't see why anyone else should have a good time - and if it hadn't been for the fact he'd announced the song's meaning to him before he sang it you'd have been hard pushed to have noticed any sort of emotional connection to it.

So, results time, and Julio Iglesias finally turns up, after the usual barrage of facts and figures - which, impressive though they may be, do not make up for the fact that he is responsible for the existence of Enrique Iglesias - to perform I Wanna Know What Love Is. We, not having much desire to wanna know what his version of the song sounded like, fast forwarded until we got onto the nub of the matter and it's Ray versus Nikitta and Simon was visibly shocked by this state of affairs. As, to be fair, were we, but we're always shocked when the final two fails to contain the MacDonald brothers, even if it's nice to see Ray finally end up in his rightful position. "I don't get that", said a confused Simon, while Louis and Sharon, proving once again that the show is about the contestants and not just the pointless, petty rivalries between the judges, put their feet up on the desk and made lazy, mocking comments about Simon's predicament.

Ray, first to face the judges, was almost, impossible as it may seem, even more irritating than his initial outing, ending the song by blowing kisses at the audience and nodding smugly. On the other hand, if Nikitta seemed desperate during her first performance, then she was practically on her knees and begging second time around, with a definite plaintive pleading tone being introduced as she was singing "last chance" lines of the song. It was slightly uncomfortable to watch in all honesty. Sharon and Louis rigged it so Simon was left in the uncomfortable position of having to choose which of his acts to send home, though despite this it should really have been an easy decision, what with Ray being, and we really cannot stress this enough, an annoying cunt. Simon, however, for reasons we can't even begin to fathom, instead decided to say goodbye to Nikitta. Yes, Nikitta has had a few ropey weeks, but she's had her high points as well and besides, even if you're the world's biggest fan of Ray, can you honestly say that he's got anything more to offer the competition? Though of course, it would be hard to imagine the world's biggest fan of Ray being able to say anything that involved words of more than one syllable. No matter, Nikitta got sent home and now her chances of having a career in music, much like her dead mum, are now non existence.

Next week it's Westlife. We were only joking when we predicted they'd be turning up. :(

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

Our headlines get worse with each passing week, don't they? Anyway, it's Week 4 of X Factor and it's hard to believe that a month has passed since this year's contest kicked off. It feels like a lot longer. Fortunately, though, it's ABBA week this week and you'd think it'd be quite hard for even this sorry lot of contestants to totally screw up some of the greatest pop songs ever written, wouldn't you. Well... "They sound simple", said Bjorn Ulvaeus, referring to the songs and not, as you might have thought, the contestants, but, as he revealed to Kate (Dresswatch: quite pleasant knee-length purple number which had the unfortunate effect of giving her all the figure of a stick of rock. Nice hair, though.), they're actually a lot more complex than that. It should now be clear that he's definitely not referring to the contestants.

As Simon still has all four of his acts left, something which he's at pains to point out at every given opportunity, it was left to him to choose this week's opener and Nikitta was given this dubious honour. Bjorn reckoned that the her song choice was perfect for her and, given that she's young and sweet, and only seventeen to boot, there could be only one choice, really, and that was Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie (A Man After Midnight). But Dancing Queen wasn't too bad a choice either. Or it wouldn't have been had she not approached the song with all the startled nervousness of a rabbit caught in the headlights or our cat on hearing last night's fireworks. She was uncomfortable, awkward, vocally wayward and her dancing really didn't live up to the name. In short she was awful and all the judges, even her own mentor Simon, agreed on this. Fortunately for her though, it wasn't all bad news as from the audience a voice called out "It wasn't out of tune, Nikitta, it was fantastic". Let's see, a disembodied female voice, the harsh, Glaswegian tones it spoke in... Oh my God! It must be Nikitta's dead mother, offering support from beyond the grave! Quick, call Ghostbusters! At worst Dan Akroyd could reprise his Blues Brothers routine and give us something worth watching.

Except that might not be necessary, as next up are Eton Road doing Does Your Mother Know that you're out. In Antony's case, this is more than likely. Let's ignore the pink trousers that one of them was wearing, hard though this may be to do, and instead focus on the fact that they were fantastically ace, pure enjoyment in musical form and by the time they finished off with handclaps we're now entirely convinced that we've found our winner. Before rushing off to the bookmakers on the strength of this tip, it may be worth reminding you that we don't exactly have much of a track record in this sort of thing. Or, indeed, anything. But we loved it, the judges loved it, the audience loved it and if you didn't love it then frankly, you're wrong.

Robert believes that last week he managed to convince us that he's not "just a maniac running up and down the stage". We never once thought that, we just thought he was an annoying twat and he certainly hasn't convinced us otherwise yet. Take a Chance on Me - no thanks - started off slowly, before the backing track went more uptemp. Robert, however, decided not to go with it, preferring instead to sing the song like a lounge number and throwing in a couple of spoken asides of the "That's all I ask of you hun" and, jesus, "Let's Party" variety. If that really is his idea of a party then remind us never to accept any invitations from him, for that and many, many other reasons. "You're a natural performer", offered Louis, confusing "Natural performer" with "prick". Confusing must have been catching as when Simon disagreed entirely with Louis, calling it dull and mediocre, Robert seemed to believe he was still in the playground, offering "You liked it really" as his only defence, and later "At the end of the day I enjoyed it so it's all good", which is not a defence which most lawyers would condone trying. Though Saddam Hussein may today be wishing he'd given it a shot. "You nailed it", reckoned Sharon, and he did, in much the same way a butterfly collector nails his creations to a block of wood, destroying their beauty entirely.

We're not sure what's getting more boring, Leona being technically good but entirely dull each week, or us being unable to think of anything else to say about her performance each week, other than the fact that it was technically good but entirely dull. Yes, she can sing and all that, but for all the personality she exudes on stage she'd be as well just standing behind the screen and singing while we watch a teapot sitting on a stool instead. Not a particularly interesting teapot mind, just a functional one. But then, what do we know? The audience practically gave her a standing ovation and, other than a couple of comments about her overuse of vibrato, the judges were similarly positive. "You're prepared to take a risk", reckoned Simon. Really? We must have blinked when that happened.

Of course, given the choice between watching something technically good and dull and something that's just plain old dull, there's really not much contest, so it's unfortunate, then, that next up to try and entertain us are The MacDonald Brothers. Once again showing their unerring knack for choosing the absolute nadir of a group's recorded output, Fernando was their song of choice and it was, as you would no doubt have come to expect by now, absolutely cringeworthy and embarassing. We can only assume that the incestuous homoerotic undertones to the whole affair where some sort of misguided attempt at making the thing even vaguely interesting. They failed. We're now of the mindset that, as with Pop Idol when the public all got together to play a 'hilarious' practical joke by letting Michelle McManus win the contest for no other reason than she was 'a bit fat', this year the public are doing the same for the MacDonald Brothers, only for the reason that they're 'a bit shit'. Sharon, finally achieving a bit of self awareness, said "What I say doesn't mean anything", while Simon commented on the embarassing awfulness of the guitar solo, describing it as the worst he'd ever heard. "You know nothing about guitars and real music", was Louis's considered riposte. If that's what real music sounds like then we're glad we only listen to the 'fake' stuff.

"How on earth do you do a swing version of an Abba song?", questioned Simon in the VT proceding Ray's performance. Badly, as it turns out. Who'da thunk it? Yes, proving that he's not so much a one trick pony, more one that's lame and needs shooting to put it out of it's misery - multiple times, just to make sure - Ray gave us a swing version of Waterloo and it was pretty much exactly as awful as you'd expect. At least with Mike Flowers the joke was funny. It was the sort of performance that makes you wish you had no ears, except of course you'd still be able to see his smug face prancing about on stage like the biggest arse the world has ever seen, so we'd need to lose those as well. And even then, you'd probably still be able to smell the fetid stench of failure and embarrassment coming out from your TV so the nose would need to go instead. What we're basically saying is that we need to either invest in a sensory deprivation tank for next week's episode or we're going to end up resorting to self mutiliation in a bid to get through the rest of the series. "I've had enough of this swing stuff", said Louis, as a nation as one stood up and applauded this view, although Simon reckons that no-one cares about his opinion. Mind you, he also reckons that Ray took a risk this week. If someone would like to explain to us what exactly is so risky about doing the same sodding thing he's done every week since the show began then, please, feel free to do so.

It's been bugging us for weeks trying to work out exactly who Ben looks like and we've finally worked it out. It's Robert Englund of Nightmare on Elm Street fame. Seriously! They're pretty much identical. If anyone wants to prove it beyond doubt by burning him alive and dressing him up in a battered trilby and a manky old green and red jumper then you're welcome to do so, but don't bank on us turning up as a character witness for the subsequent court case. You're on your own. SOS was Ben's song of choice this week, and he actually started off quite well, giving it a bit of tenderness and subtlety which he'd previously avoided in much the same way he's avoiding a haircut. Unfortunately old habits die hard and the minute he hit the chorus he was back to his growly, shouty ways which we've all come to know and love. Well, know anyway. "Soft rock", reckoned Simon, while Louis felt he pulled it off. Clearly Louis used up his quota of correct opinions when he talked about Ray.

Ashley, who no doubt picked The Winner Takes it All without realising what side of the fence the protagonist is actually on, managed to pull off a performance which surprised many of us watching. He actually managed to be worse than he'd been in previous weeks which, as you'll know if you've been watching, is no mean feat whatsoever. There was no emotion, no delicacy, and not a lot of the notes were in tune either, not that Ashley would have noticed, as the only thing Ashley seems to truely care about is himself. Witness his comment on being in last week's bottom two: "My whole career was slipping through my fingertips". How soulless do you have to be to only be thinking of winning the contest in terms of units shipped. Well, as soulless as Simon Cowell. They're a perfect team, come to think of it.

Before finding out who the dog eggs in a basket full of bad eggs are, Bjorn is wheeled back on stage for his contractually obliged opinions on who he felt stormed it tonight. Conincidentally and entirely spontaneously, he picked a favourite from each category, with Leona, Eton Road and Ben all getting his approval. After a quick plug for and performance by the cast of Mamma Mia later - despite all the previous guest judges doing a performance it would take a show with slightly more clout than X Factor to sort out an Abba reunion - and some backstage chat, all of which was highly entertaining and worthwhile and not pointless filler in any way, shape or form, it's time for the results. Suprisingly Nikitta is not in the bottom two. If we were the betting sort we'd have definitely put money on that after her performance. Things like that are largely why we're not the betting sort. The MacDonald Brothers weren't there either and nor, even more shockingly, was Ray. Instead, fighting it out for the last remaining place like two starving men fighting for the last tic-tac are Ashley and Robert. Unfortunately for us, only one of these two can go and, after their sing off - Robert's pleas to take a chance on him were noticeably more plaintive, while Ashley did manage to sound a bit better, not that that was too hard a task - it was down to Louis to choose which on these 'singers' should pack their bags. As always Louis ummed and aahed about what a hard decision it was, but eventually, and much to Simon's disgust, he picked Ashley, which we were slightly surprised by as, while the pair of them aren't exactly shining stars in the pop firmament, Ashley does at least have a little bit more potential and could, possibly, have had one particularly impressive performance to come. It's unlikely, but it's a slightly more palatable option than watching Robert jump around on stage like some hyperactive five year old for another week. Ashley, as you might expect, took his defeat in good grace: "You're taking out the strongest team", he told Louis, presumably forgetting that the strongest team rarely ends up in the bottom two for two weeks running. The self delusional cock.

No idea who the guest is next week. Kate didn't say so we can only assume it's someone less than impressive if they're not bothering to plug it. Odds on it'll be Westlife. Or it will be at some point during the series. Now that will be a low ebb for the show. Well, lower, anyway.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007

It's Week 3 of X Factor and there's a shock twist: "How will the acts take the news", ponders Mr Voiceover Man. With apparent indifference as it turns out, which is hardly a surprise really as the twist was nothing more than a double eviction, an event which is now such a mainstay of reality shows that it's only surprising if one doesn't happen at some point during the series. Not that this stopped Kate Thornton (Dresswatch: An actually quite flattering black trousers, blouse and silver belt combo. Her stylist must have been in a good mood) mentioning this at every possible opportunity, telling us all how our votes have never mattered more in a desperate bid to ramp up both tension and phoneline profits.

This week it's - yawn - big band week - and we do have to question whether the producers of the show have any sort of imagination whatsoever. Why not go for a metal week? The music might suck, but at least it'd be interesting at worst and hugely entertaining at best - so this week's guest star was Tony Bennett, who was to the Rat Pack what the Krankies were to punk. Simon reckons he's the coolest guy on the planet, something which we beleive to incredilby unlikely, even if the only other guy on the planet was made entirely of fire.

First to take the stage was Ray who, as he's been at pains to inform us since his first audition, is a big swing fan, seemingly unaware that the only 18 year olds who are massively into swing are 63 year old paeodphiles doing a very bad job of pretending to be a teenager in internet chatrooms. "This week is my week", he proclaimed smugly, as he slurred and mumbled his way through Ain't That a Kick in the Head with all the charm and grace of a tramp whose head kick has arrived thanks mainly to downing half a crate of babycham. Perhaps the problem was that he couldn't connect well enough with the song, maybe not understanding fully what a kick in the head would actually feel like. We urge anyone who passes him in the street to help him out by demonstrating to him exactly what it feels like. Feel free to do it as many times as you like if you don't feel he's quite got it yet. Louis, who seems unable to comment on anyone without likening them to a young version of some already established artist, reckoned he was like a "Young Michael Buble". This, apparently, was meant as a compliment.

Sharon and Simon had a brief argument as she introduced Dionne, with the Osbourne reckoning that Simon was using Dionne as a means for working out his anger. Simon denied this, but we can fully understand why he might be full of rage; having to deal with Ray and Ashley on a daily basis would turn even Ghandi's thoughts towards violence. With this sideshow developing around her, it's perhaps no surprise that Dionne was a bit nervous, although the fact that she was dressed as a daisy certainly was. There was a nice husky, breathy quality to parts of her performance of For Once in My Life, but she still has a tendency towards forgoing subtlety in favour of a more sledgehammer like approach, but by the end of the song she seemed to have the whole thing under a lot more control, even if she did commit the cardinal sin of indulging in a bit of skat two thirds of the way through. Not that sort of skat, thankfully. That's for the ITV3 show, XXX Factor. Louis and Sharon loved it - not that Louis ever really expresses a negative opinion. Dionne could have simply stood on stage and led the crowd in a playground chant of "Louis's a plonker", and he would still have said she had potential - while Simon insisted she had the grace of a boxer to which Dionne responded "Oh, just fuck off. Seriously, fuck off.". Well, she didn't, she just said she was disappointed he felt like that, but you could she was thinking it. Sharon then asked Simon outside for a fight, perhaps in a bid to demonstrate exactly how graceful a boxer could be, which, as with most forms of pub-style grandstanding fizzled out before anything could actually happen, which was a shame. We'd definitely have stuck a fiver on Sharon.

Nikitta, who may have a dead mum but, if the Scottish tabloids are to be believed - and they probably aren't given that they also claim that the MacDonald Brothers are doing the country proud - makes up for it by having at least half a dozen dads, gave a rather sultry, if not quite as sexy as perhaps it could be, version of Sway, but ruined it somewhat when she walked past the audience and started dancing with a bloke in a dinner jacket who might as well have had the word "STOOGE" tattooed on his forehead, such was the subtlety of this piece of performance. "It was a bit of a struggle", suggested Louis, before once again going on to moan about Simon's choice of song for her. "What song would you have chosen?", asked Nikitta, in what seemed like a genuine desire to raise her game in his eyes. "Not that one", replied Louis, proving to be roughly as helpful as a dead rabbit with no ears. "I've got bra's older than you", was Sharon's contribution to the debate, which added little, other than the knowledge that she really needs to get her underwear drawer in order. "The main problem", reckoned Simon, "was that your dancer was too short". Unless he'd been wearing platform shoes in rehearsals, we're not quite sure why this wasn't noticed earlier. People tend not to lose a foot overnight. Well, apart from Heather Mills of course. Sorry.

"You're going to be really surprised", reckoned Sharon as she introduced Ben, and she was right, he did show a different side of himself tonight. Previously we'd had him marked down as a rubbish Rod Stewart impersonator, but after Saturday's performance we see he can turn his hand to sounding like a rubbish Kelly Jones from The Stereophonics impersonator as well. Truly his talent in a multi-faceted thing. "Smile, though your heart is breaking" he sang, which is fair enough, but he wasn't quite so keen to offer advice on the facial expression you should adopt when you're sitting watching TV, bored out of your mind. The judges, of course, loved it, apart from Louis, who took advantage of his position to audition for a job as a continuity announcer: "The show is called the X Factor", he offered.

Of course, when it comes to boredom and being so charisma free you might as well be a statue, Ben's got nothing on The MacDonald Brothers, the human equivelent of grey paint. "They blend very well", was the consdered verdict of Tony Bennett, and we can only assume that the phrase "into the background" was awkwardly edited out of his comments. Ironically enough, given that when they're on stage your eyes generally focus on anything other than them, they did Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You with all the unfettered raw emotion and sexual energy of two blokes who are still a bit scared of girls. "Scotland loves them, Scotland's gonna put them through", said Louis. Worryingly he's probably right. We hate our countryfolk sometimes.

Summertime is a song which is best heard on a hot, sweaty, lazy and sunny afternoon in the, umm, summertime. It is not, perhaps, the best choice for a cold and miserable autumn evening, but this didn't stop Simon choosing it for Leona and, to be fair to her, she does sing technically well, if still far too fond of warbling, but she singularly lacks any sort of stage presence, spark or watchability. She wasn't wearing any shoes, and the fact we even noticed that fact is, perhaps, a testament to the fact that her performance wasn't exactly an entertainment spectacular. It might just be us, however, as the song certainly stirred certain passions in Simon and Sharon, who snogged each other while giving their verdicts. Shudder. It's worse than the thought of your own parents having sex. "Good lips", was Simon's verdict on his fellow judge. Feel free to add your own innuendo here.

Kerry was once again perched awkwardly on a stool as she gave a slightly flat and very lifeless performance, despite stating in her VT that she was going to put her heart and soul into it. If that really was the case then we can only wonder exactly what she considers to be a lazy, by the numbers performance. Simon once again likened her to a hotel singer, while Sharon half heartedly attempted to turn it round by suggesting a hotel in Las Vegas. "I can do better", whined Kerry, but she's been saying that every single week and we're now more convinced than ever that she can't, she really, really can't.

Ashley is like a racehorse, apparently, but we must disagree with Simon here. With a bit of effort horses can be taught how to count, a task which we imagine Ashley has some difficulty with. Remembering the words to the song was also something which caused him problems, but this came as less of a surprise, as we find it hard to beleive that he can even remember to pull down his trousers every time he goes to the toilet. Even ignoring that particular mess up, his performance was nothing less than awful and the warmth we briefly felt for him last week has now faded, once again being replaced by an icey disdain. If this had been one of the audition shows, his Moondance would have been one of the ones shown purely for comedy purposes; he looked ridiculous, sounded wobbly and was just a mess from start to finish. Not that the judges noticed, once again praising him to the skies and even letting his inability to remember three minutes worth of words slide. Ashely then thanked the Lord for blessing him, and no doubt still wonders why people think he's a bit cocky or, indeed, that he's a bit of a cock.

Sharon, presumably only having had the time to write one introduction this week, told us that like Ben, we were going "to see a different side of Robert this week", and would that we could. Specifically, we'd like to see his rear view as he leaves the X Factor studios with his head low, an aura of dejection hanging over him like a bad smell as he finally gets his comeuppance and returns to the obscurity from whence he came. His version of Mr Bojangles was the sort that makes Robbie Williams' Swing When You're Winning album seem like an absolute pinnacal of the genre, such was his complete inability to infuse the lyrics with any sort of character or emotion. "Like velvet", reckoned Sharon. Yeah, the posh toilet paper.

And finally, we come to Eton Road, who were hampered this week with swing not really being a style that suits them, although given Antony's way of dressing, going for a style which doesn't suit him comes as second nature. They didn't, however, do too badly, and were certainly passable enough, even if they did choose to cover Mack the Knife which is even more predictable than the whole idea of a big band show in the first place, and some good falsetto work - which Simon reckoned was squeaky - from Antony just about managed to save the day for them.

After a couple of songs from his new duets album, which Tony Bennet sang by, ummm, himself, it was time for the results. As it's a double evition, the least popular act according to the audience - which, of course is how it shoudl be anyway - is first to go, with the second and third last place acts going into the sing-off. After the usual faffing around and fake tension building, we're left with just Ashley, Kerry and Dionne left and, alas, Dionne is the first to go. Despite the fact that she never really hit the heights of her first performance, we're still quite disappointed to see her go. As, no doubt, are a number of top dentists who were all looking forward to claiming the lucrative dental restruction contracts that would have been on offer had she actually won the contest.

With Dionne's best bits out of the way, it's time for Kerry to face Ashley in the sing off. Kerry provided a bit more sass with her second performance but was still about as likely to set the stage on fire as if she was a giant bucket of ice cubes. Ashley was still a tosser, but at least he remembered his words second time around. Louis had the casting vote and, despite castigating him for forgetting the words, even though he initially said that it didn't matter, Ashley was allowed to stay while Kerry's dream finally came to an end. It was no great surprise really, after all, it was clear from her very first audition that she wasn't going to walk it. Guilty arf!

Next week is Abba! Hooray! But if anyone does a better cover than B*WItched's take on Does Your Mother Know we'll be very surprised.

music tv x factor

Labels: X Factor 2007