Last night I was subjected to part of Dancing With the Stars. I can now confidently report what I'm sure many people already knew–wow, does Miley Cyrus blow. She's got the vocal prowess of a consumptive Mae West, the dance moves of a 4th-grade ballerina, and the charisma of a plantar wart. Of course she'll be wildly successful anyway, but I somehow feel better to say it. (That bit cross-posted over at the Ten Gallon Liberal.)
I mean, young singers are always somehow in vogue, but shouldn't some standard come into play beyond who's got enough marketing behind them? Or, in this case, whose father is a recovering Mullethead with name recognition?
There have to be a few good young performers, but who, I ask you? Who?!?
The best I've seen lately are the boys of Who Shot Hollywood. I'm admittedly a tad jealous that they're motoring on down to Austin to play SXSW, but bellyaching aside, they're way, way (way) better at 13 and 14 than I was. And believe you me, I've got the cassette tapes to prove it. (Under lock and key, and I've swallowed the key.) And Zoe Darrow's got the chops for sure.
