In Regards to Frankie Cocozza and The X-Facor
Dear The X-Factor and Frankie Cocozza;
A dear friend of mine has taken upon himself the Herculean challenge of helping me understand music much better than I do now; helping me hone my listening skills; understanding not only lyrics, but musical composition as well. Like most people (or so I assume) I listened to music for entertainment; or, should I say, I heard music for entertainment and, as everyone knows, hearing is much different than listening. For something that fills our daily lives, that connects us so emotionally and even physically, something that ties us, as humans, together, this is actually a bit of a crime. People pour their souls and hearts into the songs they compose, just for most people to overlook it for something about banging in back alleys and drinking ’cause that’s “fun” to hear instead of focusing on what really delves into humanity and the complexity of emotions. He’s been introducing me to music from all kinds of different bands (one of which is the astounding Take That), most of them outside of the US because let’s face it, the majority of American music is rehashed trash set to a techno beat and auto-tuned robotic “singing” so . . . Yeah. And you know what I noticed? These musicians, these artists, they actually care about what they are doing; they care about what they send out and how it sounds; the meaning behind each note, the meaning behind each lyric, each melody--everything. Being a true pop star, a true musician, it takes that sort of love and dedication. It’s not a game; it’s a profession. Nobody wants a doctor who become one ‘cause “it seemed like something not do at the time” or a lawyer who “felt like partying bro.” So why should I treat the people who fill my days with words and sounds the same?
So when I discovered X-Factor through youtube, I thought; “Well, what a fantastic way to really hone my listening, not hearing, skills.” We have four judges who understand the industry, three of which have been in bands themselves (and not just run of the mill, unheard of bands, either). We have two strong, opinionated females that young girls and women everywhere look up to who understand the importance of teamwork, we have one of the most talented songwriters and musicians part of one of the best bands I’ve ever heard, and we have Louis, who understands the inner-workings of producing, of seeing talent and knowing how far it’ll go, all judging contestants; their opinions matter and they understand music far better than I do. I knew it would help me understand music better, just as my friend has been trying.
The first time I saw Frankie and heard that he was in it to sleep with lots and lots of girls, I knew it wouldn’t last. Being a pop star or musician of any sort, as I had learned, it takes someone who is serious about music; someone who is serious about their craft, who is in it for the music, not the fame. Granted, living in America as I do, I see tons of singers or artists (I use the term loosely) who are clearly in it not for the love of music or because they are talented, but for the fame, and guess what? They fucking suck. And if that was the attitude that this guy was going into the competition with, well then I wasn’t expecting much.
I was pleasantly surprised when he opened his mouth; he wasn’t crap and I was expecting that. I honestly was because of his general attitude; he considered himself a liability and that’s not something one should really boast. But he sang and he was good--not great. Good enough to get past the auditions.
But following the show as I have, and studied it, re-watched each episode, listened and focused truly on the music and the people behind it, something odd happened; I actually started to like him and I really didn’t want to because I knew he wasn’t as good as the others. In the long run, he couldn’t compete. That might sound harsh, but when compared to the other contestants, he couldn’t hold a candle--but despite that, I would buy an album of his because even if he isn’t great, something about his voice intrigues me; pulls me in, much like his confidence, his personality. Something about it drags me in.
The thing that brought me in, when I really started to enjoy him, was in judges houses; the aspect of him that I felt hindered him, that I felt really held him back as a musician, was that I didn’t believe he wanted it. I did not believe he truly, honestly cared about the music. He didn’t seem to care about it as a profession, as a lifetime of commitment and understanding; no, it was all just fun for him to get with lots and lots of girls. But in judges houses, I felt it; it was the spark I’d felt when he performed Iris in boot camp. The way he admitted that the other boys were “ridiculously talented” in judges’ houses; the worry etched on his face.
That’s when I liked him; when I began to root for him. His air of rebellion, his confidence, that was all part of him too, and I liked it. Regardless of his talent, I did.
When he sang what I believe is the song Little Lady by Ed Sheeran, I felt that spark again; the spark of wanting it, wanting to be a part of that world; of taking music seriously. He had definitely improved, as I had seen him want to improve throughout his journey so far; trying to better himself each time, and I could tell.
But objectively, I knew it wasn’t enough; objectively, he really couldn’t sing and this was, first and foremost, a singing competition. Wanting it isn’t all it takes to have talent, and it kills me to say it because I like him.
He made it into the bottom two, and he deserved it; his performance wasn’t as good as the others, who admittedly blew him out of the water. I was sad to see it, but knew that it was the way it had to be. Although I am definitely a fan of Frankie, I knew he deserved to be in the bottom two.
But when he sang for survival, I cried.
And no, I don’t mean in the metaphorical sense. I literally cried and I am not the type of person who cries over movies or television. I don’t, and this guy, he had me sobbing. Whether it was the song choice or the sheer want to remain, or (as I believe) a mixture of both, something happened that tugged at my heartstrings; some kid I don’t even personally know who I never planned to like but by this point was put under his spell, well, he made me cry. At that moment in time, it wasn’t the fame he wanted; it wasn’t the girls or the blow and hookers, or whatever it is rock stars spend their money on nowadays (is it coke? I’m pretty sure that’s the in drug, right?) it was the music. I may be wrong, but goddammit, I felt it.
Whatever reason Gary Barlow picked him, whatever it is that he saw, I think I saw it then; saw it when he broke down at judges houses. For me, that was it and I hope I’m right. Oh, there’s all this talk about making sure the one thing he doesn’t do is behave, and oh he’s so rebellious and sexy and cocky and what-all, yeah, and everybody can see that; it’s as plain as the mop top of uncombed (or at least, the attempt to make it look uncombed) hair on the top of Frankie’s head. But this competition is about finding pop stars--someone who can sells albums, who people will want to listen to over and over again; and, if they’re anything like my friend and me, spend hours dissecting and analyzing each song. (And trust me, when I say hours . . . I mean days). I don’t believe that Gary would go to bat for some kid so many times just for the sexy confidence; just for the cheeky grin and stage presence, nor do I believe the other judges would do the same for their own acts; they aren’t random people picked up off the street--they are professionals with years of experience under their belt. If I’m wrong, then fine, but that’s what it was that kept him in so long, regardless of talent. In that moment, that was the spark; the hidden je ne sais quois.
But then it disappeared. Where did it go? Where did that sheer want, that utter love for music, go? The public is relentless and unforgiving; the judges get harsher each week, and the one thing that kept Frankie in (because it wasn’t talent, and the personality isn’t enough to make up for it) go? Where was the spark from Iris and Little Lady? Was I wrong all along--was it just about banging hot girls and boozing it up? God, I hope not.
I fully expected Frankie to leave Sunday. And if we’re to be honest, I think it’s safe to safe everyone else did, too. Was it pity, teenaged girls crushing on the bad boy, or knowing that, somewhere, deep inside, there was that spark that I saw when he sang for survival, that kept him in? Probably pity, because at this point, when you’re pitting Frankie against acts like Craig, Marcus, Janet--oh, hell, anyone else in the show, it’s painfully obvious he just can’t sing.
My heart broke that Johnny left and I completely do not understand The Risk leaving at all; Frankie deserved to leave, and you know what? After the performance on Saturday, I don’t even believe he wanted to be there anymore. The want, the love, it had disappeared somehow; call me ignorant, disrespectful, whatever--but I would rather have the obnoxious; “Fucking have it!” shout of being completely and utterly ecstatic to have made it in, then the humdrum, droll performance I saw on Saturday; wandering aimlessly around the stage in street clothes. Did Frankie want to be there anymore? I don’t know, but we all knew he didn’t deserve it and, judging by his comments, so did he.
This is coming from a fan of the show, and a fan of Frankie. I’m not a hater, I say it out of respect; I’m glad you are gone, Frankie. Not just because of your lack of talent, but because I stopped believing you really wanted it and if you’re not happy then do something else with your life. You’re eighteen; you have your entire life ahead of you. We all want to be rock stars and maybe you decided that wasn’t right for you, or maybe you did want it all along and I’m completely off-base or, hell, maybe you never wanted it at all, just really needed to get your dick wet and I misconstrued that want for shagging for want of profession of music. I’m rather full of myself so I tend to believe I’m right.
Whatever you did to ensure you getting kicked out, you’re better than that. Go out and respect yourself, get a job you enjoy; if you eventually work on your music career, I’ll follow you. And whatever happens, know that I sobbed like a bitch when you sang for survival, even though I’m pretty sure nobody even working for X-Factor is reading this, least of all the judges or Frankie. That spark you had? Get it back and apply it to something that you love, whether it’s music or otherwise.
Despite the drama, the tears, and the utter shock I’ve felt multiple times over watching the show, I’m glad I watch it every week; it’s taught me so much about music, about separating my emotions from the objective views of work, and it has helped my friend and I connect over yet another subject and I hope, for his sake, that it’s made our quest to teach me to truly understand music much easier.
And on one final note: Gary Barlow’s mugs kick ass.
Sincerely,
vampmissedith