Side Effects May Vary

Susan Boyle has taken the world by storm this past week. A regular girl with a powerhouse voice—a British reality show sensation who conquered America, too, thanks to YouTube.

She appeared on Britain's Got Talent, the British equivalent of American Idol. She wasn't what you would expect of a talent show performer. Slightly overweight, accessories all wrong, frizzy hair, no makeup. She got up there anyway, in auditions, and listened to the laughter as judges took turns smirking and planting verbal barbs. Witty is the word one uses, and I suppose it's what passes for sophisticated these days. Sophisticated, maybe, but not quite classy.

Anyhow....maybe the lights mercifully hid the rolling eyes and smirks, but when Susan began to sing, laughter turned to cheering as people rose to their feet, acknowledging the talent.

YouTube audio isn't the easiest venue for assessing vocal ability. She seemed to have a lot of it. Would the crowd have reacted the same way if she'd been slim and beautiful? Maybe not. Unfortunately, I think the talent would have been a bit more expected. Part of her appeal was the surprise, I think. Now that she's made her debut, time will tell whether she has what it takes to win on Britain's Got Talent.

The YouTube video treated us to something really nice--a triumph for the regular people. We were reminded that you don't have to be coiffed and made up to possess extraordinary talent. It was good to see the coiffed and made-up acknowledge it. So now the tug-of-war begins. Susan Boyle's public can't get enough of her. She'll be all the talk, I suppose, on this years Britain's Got Talent. A dream come true is a wonderful thing.


* * *

Years ago I took a job at a mediocre FM Christian radio station. I got in just in time to be on the team that would transform the station's sound. We worked hard, tightened up the music. The engineer made the actual audio sound sparkle as we worked to make the programming as professional as possible, while maintaining the ministry's integrity. It was for the sake of ministry, really, that we did it. Quite frankly, we wanted to reach a lot of people. And--we wanted to do a quality job—no reason to give God anything less than our best.

There were a couple of local “competitors,” Christian stations also out there doing their job, and a couple of years into the process we all came together for a shared project: Carman was coming to town. Carman....enormously popular at the time. And why not? Talented, a singer with great charisma, and best of all—his concerts were always free. So we secured a big sports arena and gave away tickets. All of the area Christian stations promoted the concert, and the night of the event, the arena was predictably packed. Huge crowd—lots of noise. We all sat together as a station—you work together, you play together. It was fun. The MC came out to open the concert and started thanking people who'd helped make it all possible. The other two stations were mentioned, with applause. Then our station's call-letters were called, and the place erupted. A giant packed arena, applause, a roaring crowd, and my team was at the center of it.

It was actually kind of startling. You spend four to six hours a day talking to a microphone, pretending it's a friend having coffee with you, you introduce the songs, you take the prayer requests that come in and you have a prayer time....the occasional interview with interesting people....but you don't really see people, and you honestly don't know if anybody's listening. We all slogged through the same challenges, the crew of my station. And now here we were, and suddenly we knew people were listening, because they were roaring at us, cheering and applauding. And honestly—it felt kind of good. We were applauding too, since for the most part people didn't know much about what we looked like (they always seemed to think I was tall and blond). We kind of stared around at the crowd, eyes like saucers, mouths slack. We glanced at each other, checking to see if it was the same surprise for everybody. “I didn't think they'd do that. Did you think they'd do that? No, I didn't think they'd do that.” This unspoken conversation flashing back and forth down our row of seats.

That was the weekend. By Monday the station manager had fashioned a memo dealing with “fame.” And although I don't still have it, I remember it was good.

Apparently, fame should be treated as a side effect. In our case, public acclaim was a side effect of wanting to use radio to minister to people. And it can be a rather nasty side effect, because it can mess with your head, make you think you're important, or more special, than “regular” people. It can also leave you wondering who your real friends are. And you can get way too picky about who you'll choose as friends. People sometimes make the mistake of making fame a goal. But fame is not a goal. Fame is a side effect of pursuing your goal. What you do with this side effect is vastly important, because if you let it, it can make you forget your original goal altogether.

He said we would probably have to live with it, and asked us to please all be in prayer about the choices we would make as a result of it. It was a quality memo, and I never forgot it. Not that I have ever had vast opportunities to use its wisdom. During the course of my working at the station there was the occasional signing of a document, followed by the “Oh, are you C.........from the radio station?” You had to make sure you saw yourself as a regular person, not somehow special because other people often thought we were extra special. We had to be grounded in who we were. That way, when somebody asked you for your autograph or something, you would know you were just so-and-so with the pile of laundry at home. I was occasionally disappointed to find that a friend was not a friend after all, but wanted to be SEEN as a friend of a radio announcer. Not too often, thankfully.

You kind of had to work all that out as you went along. I can't think of any other way to do it. Then when I went to just part time on the weekends, I watched a measure of that fame disappear. Eventually I married and moved away and slipped easily into obscurity. People forget you quickly, which I suppose is mostly okay. It's good to be sure your identity isn't wrapped up in what they think of you. You still have to be you when it's all over.

* * *

Now that people have found Susan Boyle, they're naturally going to try to ruin her. Apparently it's already starting. I've read there are plans not to let her get a makeover for the show. Keep her natural, they say. It's part of her appeal. As IF they have the right to dictate a makeover or not for another person. Patronizing. It might be good to ask her what SHE wants.

Popularity is running high, and only time will tell whether the fame thing will burn itself out for her. She seems like a really nice lady. It's hard, though, to stay really nice and sweetly innocent when people treat you as if you're an international treasure. Maybe she can stay just Susan Boyle. If popularity has its natural effect, then the following that dotes on her today will turn on her like a pack of hyenas if she does something they don't like.

Another thing. The show's “people” are right to understand that her appeal comes from her simplicity--the fact that her identity isn't wrapped up in her looks. But if her identity is wrapped up in her talent, she's only putting off the same rather nasty identity crisis.

But for today it's nice to watch the faces of a crowd that tends to be more sophisticated than classy. It's good to see extraordinary talent wrapped up in a somewhat common package. Kind of reflects my personal taste in art. And it's good to see the sophisticated crowd learning a thing or two. Thanks, YouTube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk