Not much to worship

Idolatry is the last thing on your mind when you watch the local 'Idols'

Where do former South African Idols winners go? There doesn't seem to be a clear trajectory for them, unlike the retirement paddock provided for former Miss South Africas in the form of Top Billing. A desultory trawl through the social media accounts of ex-Idols winners seems to suggest that most of them still take "bookings", but one gets the sense that we're not talking Soccer City.

Let's be frank - there are few past Idols winners who have gone on to establish themselves as long-term national treasures, or even household names.

But despite this, each new season of Idols seems to draw thousands of contestants hoping they'll be the one to change things. We're now on the 10th version, and there they all are, shiny youngsters mugging for the camera as they await their turn before the judges. This year, as for the last three seasons, those judges are Universal Music MD Randall Abrahams, and broadcasters Gareth Cliff and Unathi Msengana.

For me, Idols lost something very special when they ditched judge Mara Louw. She gave a cookie-cutter family show a much darker, more exciting edge. There was a thrillingly unpredictable air to the proceedings when she was involved. Throwing out accusations of racism, rocking up sloshed on booze and pills and rambling tearily ... those were the days.

Now Idols is as predictable as the annual state of the nation address. The minute a contestant displays any over-confidence to the camera - "You're looking at the next Idol" - you know they will definitely suck. The minute the producers give you any hint of a back-story, they're definitely making top 10.

Yet the enduring allure of Idols is its schizophrenic cocktail of cruelty and sugar. The second episode of the current series actually featured fancy special effects showing weak contestants getting smashed by wrecking balls and trains. You are invited to laugh at auditions where contestants break down in tears halfway through. "Is it because of my personal appearance?" one rejected singer wept. In the second episode of the current season, a Michael Jackson impersonator who appeared to be mentally unstable had to be removed by security. Lol.

But let's not get all preachy: as much as you might hate yourself for sniggering, some of the auditions are so bad that they do induce belly laughs. Poor Nkosinphile, who claimed to have practised his version of Rihanna's Diamonds for four days straight, somehow managed to change the lyrics to Shine bright like a braai man. Siyanda, 27, claimed that a song composed by him had been plagiarised by kwaito artist Professor before he'd had a chance to write it down, and concluded his tone-deaf dirge with a lengthy standing ovation to himself.

How do their loved ones let them do this to themselves? Are these contestants surrounded by deaf mutes, or sadists?

Counteracting this is the saccharine element. In the moral economy of Idols, the more miserable your personal background, the more worthy a winner you become. This sort of makes intuitive sense - how can you not root for former street kid Vincent? - until you remember that the whole point of Idols is that it is supposed to be a pure meritocracy where the best singer wins.

An unexpected contestant on this season's Idols will be cricketer Graeme Smith's wife Morgan Deane. Good luck to the producers trying to spin Deane as a sob story, since she has two Irish No1 singles behind her and a marriage to a millionaire sportsman. Maybe her flashback will consist of poignant footage of the Proteas choking at the World Cup.