This is a reprint of a blog post originally published elsewhere on March 23, 2011
Dear Glee:
I don’t always watch you. I’ll admit that until last week’s episode, I hadn’t watched you all season.
There are several reasons for this, from the unevenness of your writing to the fact that I sometimes wish that your adult characters actually did not exist. Another, though, (and my father is about to collapse from shock) is your myopic musical selection.
I defended you in the beginning. While my dad, a lifelong arts educator, was lamenting the relentlessly pop-oriented vocals and shallow musicality so often a part of “show choir” sensibility, I argued that anything that got teenagers excited about singing was to be placed staunchly in the “good” column. Even your over-produced, auto-tuned, obviously-dubbed performances were well-designed to appeal to audiences unaccustomed to the messier aesthetics of live singing. As long as your message was getting kids into music and revitalizing their schools’ performing arts programs, you were definitely doing your part.
That was then, this is now.