If there’s one thing that reality television has taught us, it’s how to squeeze five minutes of sheer, unadulterated entertainment into two hours. But if such programs have taught us anything else, it’s of the importance of ‘the journey’. Nobody gets thrown off these programs because their fellow contestants can no longer stand the sight of them or because they’re not up to it. Rather, they are eliminated as part of a ‘journey’. Presumably, it’s one in which the route takes you directly away from the gaze of the cameras and straight to the back seat of a waiting taxi.
If there’s one thing that reality television has taught us, it’s how to squeeze five minutes of sheer, unadulterated entertainment into two hours. But if such programs have taught us anything else, it’s of the importance of ‘the journey’. Nobody gets thrown off these programs because their fellow contestants can no longer stand the sight of them or because they’re not up to it. Rather, they are eliminated as part of a ‘journey’. Presumably, it’s one in which the route takes you directly away from the gaze of the cameras and straight to the back seat of a waiting taxi.
These television shows are flat-out stuffed to the gills with journeys. Where they’re going and whether they take a packed lunch and a pair of sturdy hiking boots remains unclear. I very much doubt that the contestants can so much as duck down to the shops for a litre of milk and a Caramello Koala without the endeavour being given the exalted title of ‘journey’. That’s the strange thing about reality television. Every experience is amplified and elevated out of all proportion.
As a result, the word ‘journey’ is in danger of running out of puff. This, of course, is devastating news for the band ‘Journey’, which existed long before reality television was, in fact, a reality. Add to that, the term ‘journey’ has likely been trademarked by a television production company, meaning that every time the band so much as says its own name, it’s probably compelled to pay some kind of royalty. This is a terrible state of affairs.
The group formed back in 1973, made up of former members of ‘Santana’ and ‘Frumious Bandersnatch’. I have to admit to having missed much of Frumious Bandersnatch’s no-doubt quality catalogue. Whilst I’m sure it was stuffed chock-full of absolute classic songs, it’s little wonder that it’s departing members chose a name as boring as ‘Journey’ for their next project.
They were the antithesis of reality television. For Journey, success was neither fleeting nor instant, and their popularity peaked on their eighth album. The LP ‘Escape’ was a huge hit, and contained popular singles like ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ and ‘Open Arms’. Some songs are timeless in that they never seem to age. Others are timeless because they never seem to end. Sadly, from my point of view, the work of Journey falls into the latter rather than the former category. In fact, their songs are more in the manner of time capsules – perfectly preserved relics of the year 1981.
With the spotlight firmly fixed in their direction, the band made the most of it. They recorded music for beer advertisements and, according to the internet (which knows a thing or two about such things) sold their image and likeness to two video games, including one by Atari. The mind boggles at what the video games entailed. That said, it can be safely assumed that Pac-Man still managed to sleep soundly at night, even with the boys from Journey doing their best to encroach upon his turf. Had the big yella-fella felt under threat, presumably he would have returned the favour and released an album. Thankfully for all of us, the idea of ‘Pac-Man and the Pac Dots Blues Band’ was abandoned shortly after inception.
Strangely enough, the term ‘journey’ suits the band perfectly. It was made up of musical journeymen, who plugged away until their moment arrived, at which point they squeezed as much from it as they could. Who could blame them? But now, their place in the musical firmament is under threat through the reckless overuse of the term ‘journey’ by reality television presenters. There is, I feel, still such a thing as ‘over-doing it’. The term ‘journey’ is a precious but limited resource and, right now, it’s in danger of being fished out of existence. Before too long, it will no longer exist as a word, it will just be a noise that people on television make.
There is, of course, an answer. Firstly, those who make reality television shows should be forced to shell out for a Thesaurus. Then, the people who host such programs should be inducted and trained so they learn that sometimes there’s more than one word available to convey a particular meaning. If necessary, such hosts should be forced to eat a Thesaurus as a means of reinforcing the point. Should the idea of seeing some of television’s brightest stars chowing down on Roget’s finest just to teach them a lesson sound a little tasteless, I can only say that it’s nothing that a pinch of sea salt and a drizzle of olive oil couldn’t fix.
Eliminated contestants will no longer be provided with the emotional lifeboat that is the term ‘journey’. Alternate words such as ‘voyage’, ‘expedition’ and ‘excursion’ will be encouraged. That should be consolation enough. If it helps, whilst these expulsions take place, the accompanying soundtrack could be drawn solely from the extensive back-catalogue of the band ‘Journey’. This will allow them to reclaim the name they so studiously built whilst reinforcing the point. I, for one, long for the moment when tearful ex-contestants – their dreams shattered and sacrificed on the unforgiving altar of light entertainment – are accompanied to the taxi as Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ blasts through the speakers. Now that’s what I call reality.