‘The Voice’ of America

Superficially, “The Voice” may resemble that juggernaut “American Idol” — both have weekly singing battles, celebrity judges, soggy human-interest back stories, the audience’s anointment of a winner and the reward of a record contract. But where “Idol” is a talent popularity contest, “The Voice” is a battle of aesthetic visions.

So what does that have to do with politics? Turns out there are striking similarities between the selection process by which popular culture chooses stars and the election process by which we choose leaders. As “The Voice” unfolds, it not only demonstrates popular culture at work. It also presents an analogue for political culture at work.

On “Idol” the basic dynamic is entertainment populism. The audience almost always chooses victors whom record executives would never have. There have been fat winners, gay winners, weird winners and ordinary-looking winners. The show becomes a form of redress – the audience’s way of elevating one of their own into the celebrity stratum.

“The Voice” also makes a nod toward populist de-glamorization. Since their backs are turned during the auditions, the judges at first only hear the voice disconnected from all the show biz trappings. Then they spin their chairs around to see who the voice is. This gets them to focus on the only thing that matters: the voice.

Unlike “Idol,” many contestants are professionals who have already sung in clubs, bars, on the street or as back-up to famous vocalists. A few have even had record deals. So the objective isn’t to provide a first chance — it’s a second one, for singers who, for one reason or another, weren’t lucky enough to get the brass ring. This also gives the show an edge of desperation. There may be second chances in show business. But there are no third chances. This is it.

On “Idol,” the judges are basically window dressing — providing glitz that the contestants cannot provide. On “The Voice,” the four judges — Maroon 5 frontman Adam Levine, flamboyant singer/producer Cee Lo Green, belter Christina Aguilera, and aw’ shucks country star Blake Shelton – are much more. They are the show’s real stars and its real power – not just to select talent but to define what talent means. Each is a different kind of singer, and each has a different aesthetic and style. So the judges often argue about why one judge thinks a performer is better than another judge thinks he or she is.

This virtually compels the viewer to re-evaluate his or her own favorite vocalists. I find myself asking whether the chairs would turn for any number of singing stars — and whether these stars triumphed because of their individuality, their presentation, their voice, all three — or something else that may be ineffable, whatever your aesthetic predilections may be.

“The Voice” also reinforces just how diverse stardom is. You can admire a number of the show’s contestants and recognize how different they are from one another, which, again, prompts you to ponder just what makes for entertainment excellence.

Yet Javier Colon, the winner of the first season, has not reached stardom — any more than most of the “American Idol” winners do — which certainly seems counterintuitive. (In fact, many also-rans have had greater commercial success.)

This is another way in which “The Voice” is revealing. Though the majority finally rules on “The Voice,” as on “Idol,” this illustrates how that may ultimately militate against choosing greatness. That’s because stars usually do not emerge by captivating everyone. Typically, stars are made by separate constituencies who appreciate their individuality.

Part of the pleasure of “The Voice” is that it lets us see separate constituencies coalescing into a mass. As the field gets whittled by the audience’s weekly votes, the growing consensus pulls everything toward the middle — at the expense, it turns out, of some of the most inventive vocalists.

Colon had a lovely voice, for example, and all sorts of professional tricks, but there was nothing about him that made him special. Nonetheless he won the audience vote over Dia Frampton, a young woman with a much more distinctive approach. Similarly, this year the odds-on favorite is another show biz vet who has good pipes but very little personal style. He sounds just like, well, just like a professional singer.

This is exactly what happens in politics. Constituencies form around individual candidates, who may be dynamic and different. But as the field is winnowed and the constituencies blend, everything pulls toward the middle. We wind up getting the political equivalent of Javier Colon – someone who has no real shot at greatness in part because he isn’t willing to alienate large cohorts of voters. We get ordinary.

In the end, “The Voice” gives us glimpses of cultural rebelliousness and the balkanization that feeds it. But it also shows us that when everyone finally weighs in, aesthetics melt together, and we retreat into the safety of bland centrism — precisely what happens to our politics. We end up with the ordinary.

Neal Gabler is the author of “Life: The Movie: How Entertainment Conquered Reality.” He’s working on a biography of the late Sen. Ted Kennedy.