As previously mentioned, the emergence of the new idol audition format sparked a gold rush, with major television networks and internet giants all vying for a piece of the pie. But as the saying goes, "The first to eat the crab is a genius; those who eagerly imitate are mediocre; and those who churn out shoddy mass-produced copies are fools."
Many television stations sought to innovate. Toilet TV was the first to import and replicate the original idol audition format, reaping considerable success. Zhe Lan TV followed suit, securing its own share of the market.
Subsequent idol audition shows quickly faded into obscurity. However, the writers and producers at these television networks and internet giants weren't fools. They understood the principle of specialization and switched strategies when one approach failed.
Qiyi Video launched "The Rap of China," a successful idol audition show focused on rap, providing new opportunities for countless vocational school graduates.
Youku Video capitalized on the popularity of dance, creating "This Is Dancing," an idol audition show that carved out a niche in the dance genre.
While the production quality was merely average, these shows offered fresh formats that differentiated themselves from the oversaturated idol audition market, appealing to viewers tired of the same old formula.
After all, the pool of trainees was limited. As soon as one network launched an idol audition show, others would follow suit. As soon as one stage was over, another would begin. Lucky trainees who debuted successfully were the exception; those who failed to make the cut and weren't signed by management companies simply packed their bags and moved on to the next show.
The contestants, mockingly dubbed "Twice-Cooked Pork" by viewers, were a common sight on the idol audition circuit. Some had even reached "Old Cured Meat" status, having actively participated in top-tier idol audition programs since their early days. After six auditions, they had aged from fresh-faced rookies to middle-aged men right before the audience's eyes.
It's no wonder viewers were losing interest, seeing the same familiar faces day after day.
The formula for these idol audition programs had also become predictable: a rebellious contestant vying for the center position, a few decent singers and dancers serving as the backbone, and a handful of eccentric contestants brought in to grab attention and stir up drama, all in hopes of securing audience votes for debut.
In reality, the final debut spots were often predetermined, and all the preceding drama was merely manufactured by the production team to create spectacle. Viewers got their thrills, but few outside the dedicated fandom truly cared who ultimately made the cut.
Amidst this growing saturation of increasingly formulaic idol audition programs, Director Zhang of Tomato TV sensed an opportunity. He was determined to create a highly-rated idol audition program for his network.
With other internet giants having already tested the waters, Director Zhang had found a new path forward.
As a director, Zhang patiently sat at home, watching every idol audition program from beginning to end. His conclusion: the quality of the music was declining.
The first wave of groundbreaking idol audition programs featured several impressive dance-pop songs in their final performance stages, with multiple tracks reaching the "Rising Fame" level.
However, as the second and third tiers of programs emerged, "Rising Fame" songs became increasingly rare. Finding even one such track across an entire season proved challenging.
In the most recent idol audition program, could you believe the final debut song only reached the "First Steps" level?
While some programs prioritizing profit were understandable, Zhang, as an industry insider, knew that others had invested heavily.
The root of the problem, he realized, lay in the sheer volume of idol audition programs that had flooded the market in recent years. The composers and lyricists supporting the cultural and creative industry had been drained dry.
Writing a song, especially a good one, takes time. Unless inspiration strikes like a lightning bolt, allowing creativity to flow like a spring, crafting a masterpiece in a short period is nearly impossible.
For the rest of the time, they could only churn out mediocre, run-of-the-mill songs.
Director Zhang even conducted thorough investigations into music production companies, discovering that many small to medium-sized firms had been inundated with commissions from management companies representing idol audition trainees.
While this influx of work sustained these companies, it also stifled creativity, preventing them from nurturing any Gold-tier composers or lyricists. With their minds solely focused on commercial viability, how could they possibly produce truly great art?
The more Director Zhang pondered this, the more convinced he became that he should provide these behind-the-scenes composers and lyricists with greater visibility. This would also allow audiences to witness the entire creative process, from a song's conception to its performance on stage, culminating in a fully realized music video.
He had already devised the show's format: a ranking competition among the writers. Each episode would feature a theme chosen by audience vote, fostering viewer engagement and interactivity, a proven way to boost viewership.
To further enhance the program's appeal, he planned to invite established powerhouse vocalists, popular singers, and even recently debuted idol groups—those so-called "Idols" from idol audition programs!
The plan was simple: a blind selection process. Celebrities would randomly choose a lyricist-composer pairing, and the chosen team's song would be performed live on stage, with the audience voting to determine the best.
Let the votes speak for themselves!
Director Zhang drew inspiration from various variety shows, incorporating key elements like blind selection to introduce an element of surprise and freshness for the audience. This approach would capture genuine reactions from the celebrities, guaranteeing a captivating debut episode.
The concept involved assigning a theme to lyricists and composers, leveling the playing field. To ensure fairness, the final theme would be determined by audience voting. Even if participants discovered the possible themes beforehand, they'd still need extraordinary talent to prepare songs for every option—a feat in itself.
However, the quality of the songs remained uncertain.
The final stage, where celebrity singers would compete, aimed to test whether vocal prowess, idol popularity, or the quality of the songs mattered most.
Director Zhang submitted his proposal, and the executives at Tomato TV, recognizing his vision, immediately approved the project and pledged full support for the show's production.
Just when everything seemed to be falling into place, the writer who had been the show's main draw for its first season—the youngest Gold-tier composer poised to break records, with platinum aspirations—suddenly backed out.
Now, everything was in shambles. The writer had simply paid his breach-of-contract penalty and walked away, leaving the show in disarray. Who would clean up this mess?
Director Zhang sat in his office, chain-smoking. Before long, he had nearly finished an entire pack.
The room filled with thick cigarette smoke. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Director Zhang answered absently.
Shen Tao, the show's executive director and Director Zhang's protégé, burst into the room. Having risen through the ranks together at Tomato TV, they had shared both successes and setbacks. Shen Tao had managed the show's entire production, pouring his heart and soul into the project.
"Teacher! I've found a solution that might resolve our current crisis and keep the show on schedule!" Shen Tao announced with a hopeful smile.
"What is it?" The cigarette in Director Zhang's mouth suddenly tasted foul. He stubbed it out immediately and sat up straight, his interest piqued.
"First, take a look at this..."