Having a Motown theme for the semi final of the biggest show on telly is a bit like fielding your kids in the mid-week League Cup game before a big Derby game with City. Welbeck and the shit Da Silva twin will get the job done, but not with much panache, leaving Rooney and the big dogs to exploit their local rivals in the final third come Super Sunday.
Yeah. That’s right. My football knowledge extends past references to Redknapp hanging out the back of it. But what has all this got to do with Motown? Well, as the remaining four acts creaked through dated renditions of the stuff that Phil Collins murdered, you couldn’t help thinking that this was all a half-arsed kick about in preparation for the FOUR HOUR FINAL next weekend. The Chaaaaaampiooooooons!
The most exciting part of Saturday’s show was the sight of Kelly Rowland’s shiny legs, which in five seconds expressed more personality than Mee Mee Janet Devlin Boo Boo did in three months. Aside from these cocoa-buttered beauties, Motown week was drab. Misha B got so bored that she resorted to listing at least four different ‘Highlights of the Year’. Which was it, Misha? Singing in front of Jennifer Hudson? The charity single? Meeting the sick kids? The girl may have talent, but listening to her speak is like listening the R-R-R-Remix of Parker.
At least the tedium confirmed what I’ve been hinting at for some time now: Marcus Collins is a decent entertainer, but he is way out of his depth on the show. Retro may be Marcus’s thang, but singing My Girl in a football jacket was cringingly old-fashioned. He might have had some success in the R&B charts back in the ’60s, but only if Curtis Taylor Jr was his manager, and even then his eccentric performances might freak out the respectable regulars in Miami Beach.
“Look at my legs, now look at me, then at my legs, and back to me…”
The only act who attempted to drag Motown kicking and screaming into the 21st century were Little Mix, and even though their rendition of You Keep Me Hangin’ On was nowhere near their best, the little moofins deserve the winner’s crown for nothing more than being cute. Their main competition at this point is Amelia Lily, but surely the public will see through her frosty shoutiness and fire her into the Dagobah system, where no one will hear her scream.
Gaz Baz seems intent on praising Amelia for ‘coming back every week,’ but the last time I checked, she doesn’t have much choice. It’s like Ritchie from Tool Academy all over again, and if we’re lucky, Amelia will meet the same fate as the blow-dried love rat, drenched in baked beans before being told that she is, after all, just a tool. Tulisa is no better with the ice queen, and commended Amelia’s performance of I’m With You because she told the story well. If that’s how easy it is to earn Tulisa’s praise, I’ll be singing Ob La Di, Ob La Da in my audition next year.
The second half of the show, in which the acts sang the songs they thought would get them to the final, was marginally more interesting. Someone must have exposed Tulisa to some gamma rays during the third repeat of the John Lewis ad, because she ended the show by smashing through her desk when Gaz criticised Little Mix’s version of If I Were A Boy. Old Barlow could hardly talk, having given Marcus the worst song choice of the series with Can You Feel It, although we never found out WHAAAT he’s gonna look like with a chimney on him.
As expected, Misha B (Gone) finally left the show, but not before reminding us how damn good she was at putting it down. Misha, I’ll mish ya.
Can You Feel It is an amazing song because of Michael Jackson's vocals, which Marcus totally flopped at attempting.
Misha was robbed but she knew she was going – Tulisa's guilty tears can't make up for the fact that she started all the bad press the most talented contestant received.
The final three are the weakest in years.