Reality shows often give young talent a false idea of what a music career actually entails, says Esther Lois Stephens. She explains why it’s better to take the long road.
Listen to the story as it was told at The Watercooler storytelling night or read on.
Everyone has talents that present themselves early in childhood. For me, that talent was winning things off the radio. I discovered I had an almost supernatural ability to speed dial, and speed redial, and somehow come up lucky caller number three. I won a lot of albums off Mai FM, which was mostly gangster rap viciously punctuated with violence, sex and swearing. It was quite an education for the Howick born and raised 10-year-old daughter of a pastor.
One day after school was particularly record breaking. Robbie Williams was coming to town and More FM was giving away a prize pack including tickets to the gig and a fat photo book of Robbie pics. At 14 I honestly had very little interest in Robbie Williams. I was more concerned with winning theatre sports competitions, dating some dickhead five years older than me and learning every song off The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. However, this particular competition caught my attention.
The DJ would call Robbie song titles at random, and without stopping to think, the caller had to sing a line, or several, from each song. My father has always been stunned at my ability to remember lyrics - it was a running family joke to point out that if only I could remember my times tables the way I remember songs (followed by the typically parental suggestion that “maybe I should sing them”) .
Anyway, this was the day I put my skills to good use. After listening to a few people fail and thinking “I could do that”, I called in, nailed the challenge, and won. For some time after this, people around me thought that I adored Robbie Williams because of the pile of merch I'd bagged.
That day, three or so hours later, the same station was running another singing themed competition - Sing For Your Supper. It was basically karaoke meets X Factor, where they'd take three contestants singing a bit of whatever, then the listening audience would vote and crown the most vocally adept with a $50 McDonald’s voucher. Clearly no one was keeping track of the day's winners, because I called in, won again, and later took 10 or so of my mates out for McFlurries.
At the grand final at Parakai Hot Springs, I won and became the Life FM Icon 2003.
At 16 I applied for the first round of New Zealand Idol. It was a relatively new phenomenon in 2003, shiny and exciting and full of career-making promises for budding musical talent. I'd devotedly followed the Australian series that put Guy Sebastian in the spotlight, and when it was announced that the franchise was coming to New Zealand, I was certain that this was my shot.
I'd been singing since I was very small. My father is a guitarist and songwriter, my mother sings and plays piano, and me and all my siblings sing and naturally harmonise (fortunately we managed to avoid becoming a family band). I was first in a recording studio at nine-years-old and at 15 I'd co-written, recorded and released a full album with my unfortunately-named band 'Dynasty’. I was singing and working with bands at church every week, I'd won singing competitions, and had earned a reputation at school for being 'the good singer' and taking lead roles in the musical production each year.
I was pretty sure I had the talent and experience to make the cut, and the charm and charisma to win the ears and hearts of the New Zealand voting public. But… I was turned down. I didn't even get a first audition, just a letter saying 'no thanks'. Hindsight is 20/20, and now I think it's probably just as well I wasn't accepted, but at the time I was pretty gutted.
Later that year, the Christian radio station Life FM ran their own take on Idol, just with a fraction of the budget and production values. It was called 'Life FM New Zealand Icon'. It had the same premise - each week selected contestants would ring in, sing something over the phone, and then be slowly whittled down by audience votes.
Being deeply involved in contemporary Christian culture through my youth group, it was pretty easy for me to rally voters, and week after week I stayed in the competition with stars in my eyes. This was going to be my break, the opportunity to show the world what I could do. It was a perception constantly reaffirmed by everyone involved in the competition. At the grand final at Parakai Hot Springs, I won and became the Life FM Icon 2003.
The prize was to write and record a single debuting me as real live professional Christian recording artist. The tune would be played on Life FM, performed live on the main stage of Parachute Musical Festival (with Detour 180 as back-up band), and released on the Christian equivalent to the Kiwi Hit Disc.
As many a singing contest winner has discovered over the years, the aftermath of winning is not nearly as exciting as the hype of the actual competition.
As many a singing contest winner has discovered over the years, the aftermath of winning is not nearly as exciting as the hype of the actual competition. Myself and one of the Life FM DJ's co-wrote and recorded the single, 'My Generation'. It was a ballad about wasted youth which wasn't too terrible, and it made it to number three on the Life FM chart. I performed the song at Parachute, which is still the largest audience I've ever sung in front of, and it was an experience which was disorganised, pretty overwhelming and extremely brief. Finally the song came out on 'Godzone Volume 3' with my name spelt incorrectly. And then it was all over.
At 16, you believe the hype. There's something mysterious and awe-inspiring about the upper echelons of the music industry. You truly believe that if these mythical high-powered record execs just heard how talented you are and bestowed their sacred blessing upon you, you'd have a ready-made career, making and selling album after album, performing sold-out gigs to fans that adored you. But as we know for most artists, the reality is quite different.
It's ironic I scored a McDonald's voucher all those years ago, because I feel like reality singing competitions are like the fast food of musical careers - heavily marketed, disappointing on delivery and over very quickly. It has always struck me as the most unusual image, an artist performing their heart out to a whooping, wild audience of fans, but with a giant table and four static individuals sandwiched in between, sipping from branded cups and quietly brewing witty praise or cutting criticisms for the end of each song.
Now this is not to discredit the talent these programmes can (occasionally) showcase, or the intentions of the industry professionals that are called upon to mentor. But first and foremost, it's TELEVISION. I think it's important to acknowledge outstanding achievements in music, but the concept of 'winners' and 'losers' is subjective and hinged on the opinions of people who may or may not be qualified to judge. (The discussion around white artists like Iggy Azalea being nominated in the rap category at the Grammy’s is a recent example. Rapper Macklemore has himself suggested that his Grammy win was down to the fact that the 'old white guys' on the voting panel prefer to vote for a white nominee.)
I've been a drama and singing teacher on and off for most of my professional career and I've noticed these reality shows often give young talent a false idea of what a career in the music industry actually entails. The Play It Strange initiative and the long-esteemed Rockquest competition both do fabulous work to counter this, focussing on building creativity, practical music skills and self-confidence rather than five minutes of fame.
The concept of 'winners' and 'losers' is subjective and hinged on the opinions of people who may or may not be qualified to judge.
After high school I discovered another creative passion in acting and began to pursue it, all while logging hundreds of hours singing live and working in bands. I’m six months shy of 30 and have only just independently released my debut album with my band. We wrote it, for the most part we funded it (thank you NZ On Air), we booked the tour, and now we're playing the shows. There is a deep sense of satisfaction in this achievement, and taking the longer road to the end.
Even if it never becomes a hit, it's always been a dream of mine to do an album. We worked hard, learnt a lot, and now we have one. The truth is now I feel like the best version of myself, and the best musical version of myself. I've had time to evolve, to discover what I want to sound like, and I've developed the tools and maturity to handle the often-fickle nature of a professional creative life.
Longevity is my ultimate goal, to be a permanent fixture in the creative life I love. Winning can be nice, but maintaining is better. I guess for me now it's not so much, 'Sing When You're Winning', as 'Let Me Entertain You'.
This story was originally told at The Watercooler, a monthly storytelling night held at The Basement Theatre. If you have a story to tell email thewatercoolernz@gmail.com or hit them up on Twitter or Facebook.
Illustration: Lucy Zee
This content is brought to you with funding support from New Zealand On Air.
