[Man…I am so glad I’m not covering a full season of any of these shows. I would’ve been putting holes in the desk by around Spring Training.]
Just a little update here…it appears that Domino Masters is going to go longer than I expected. See, after the playoffs, which obliterates half of the field after one round, there’s this thingamajig called “quarterfinals” which the sixteen survivors compete in four groups of four, and one in each group gets the ax. It seems that in reality TV there are only ever two options, get rid of one person each and every damn round, or get rid of more than one person each and every damn round. (The Third Option, of course, is to get rid of no person after one extremely specific and never-to-be-duplicated round, but now that Dancing With The Stars is no longer on television I doubt we’ll be seeing that one again.)
The other thing is that I was going to do American Song Contest, but have decided against it, the rationale being I’m completely sick of that show and refuse to subject myself to another second of it.
Here’s all you need to know.
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There’s a “jury” that we never see or hear (how convenient
) along with fan voting which determines who goes through. Of course this arrangement means that there are no judges, which I suppose is why hosts Snoop Dogg and Kelly Clarkson both try to make up for it by being four times as freaking annoying as a regular host. Dogg does all kinds of irritating singalongs and tiresome catchphrases (if I never hear “Who’s it going to be, is it you, is it me?” again, that won’t be adequate compensation for him pounding it about 20 times every goddam episode), while Clarkson’s deal is overexcited screeching and making mountains out of what looked like molehills but upon further reflection were more like dust specks. And the stupid questions, Aya Shameimaru’s shoes, the endless stupid questions. -
The contestants come from all 50 states, Washington DC, and a number of American-owned territories. You would think that there would be tremendous variety in the music as a result. Ha. Such naivete. There’s some grossly overrated poetry recitation (“hip hop” or occasionally “[word other than “hip”] hop”), lots of bland pop, some bland country, some bland latino, and every so often something non-100% mainstream like The Crystal Method, which invariably stands as much of a chance as a snowball in Yuugi Hoshiaguma’s space heater.
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The jury picks get ranked on-screen in real time. This is great for the home voters, who know in advance which acts not to waste their votes on, thereby ensuring that nothing even microscopically fresh or alternative is ever going to move on.
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This is based on the Eurovision Song Contest, which is the sum total of what this exercise in reality TV time wastage has to do with the Eurovision Song Contest.
Playlists and Primetimer page for your edification. Enjoy.