Let the battle begin
It’s now Monday evening, and I’m home after having spent a better part of my day working on the next stage of “The Voice Kids’ (TVK)” journey: Battle Rounds. As with every “TVK” version all over the world, there are three kids who battle it out in the ring, all singing one song. The two noncompeting coaches (for example, if my team is performing, Bamboo and Sarah Geronimo are the noncompeting coaches) then give a brief comment, and pick which one of the three stood out for them. Sometimes the two will give the same answer, and sometimes they’ll each pick someone different.
Finally, the battle group’s coach will speak about the merits of each young artist’s performance, and at the end of the speech, render a decision.
The Battles drive me crazy. I mean, I go insane all the time trying to, with major help from our musical directors and song arrangers, help the artists try to craft a good performance.
It’s even more stressful whenever we work with the kids, because they’re kids. They haven’t been knocked around in life as much as the grownups, so presumably, their hearts are more tender and sensitive. And it doesn’t matter whether the young one wins the round, or is sent home.
High anxiety
I didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before, my head filled with anxiety in anticipation of how the day would go. Filming of Battles takes around two days, and on this anxious night I got word that from Team Lea, four groups would be performing on Day 1, and two on Day 2. I replayed the groups’ rehearsals over and over in my head, trying to retain as much information as I could. By the time I finally felt sleepy, the sun was already peeking through my window.
Thankfully, I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep somehow.
This would be Nicole’s official last day of summer, so she wanted to come along to just hang out (she didn’t watch the performances, opting to just spend time with her grandmother). We each got breakfast-to-go from a nearby restaurant, and then proceeded to get on the Skyway, presumably the fastest way to travel from the south (Muntinlupa) to the north (Quezon City). However, on this day, that would not be the case.
Traffic
Our own personal battle round with “first-day-of-school” traffic would begin right there.
If I were to measure the distance between Alabang and ABS-CBN, we would be in the ballpark of 15 kilometers, more or less, but this morning, a trip on the Skyway that would normally take around 20 minutes took around an hour.
Motorists traveling got the warning that the Buendia exit would be closed, which made today feel like we were driving through molasses, or melted asphalt. I would occasionally check my watch, and get even more stressed out that I would arrive at my destination late. And I do not like being late.
Thankfully, the minute we got to Edsa, the road cleared, save for the normal slow-down spots around Makati. After Ayala Avenue and Buendia (don’t judge me for using the old name for this road), it was smooth sailing. I checked my watch again when I got out of the car, and we arrived about a half hour later than we should have.
My style team was in the dressing room ready for war themselves, and wasted no time getting me prepped and ready to rehearse with my wards in the battle ring. I listened to today’s four groupings one by one. Yes, a little adjustment here, or a little push there, but all in all everyone sounded fantastic.
My one overarching reminder: Have fun! Beyond the notes (which everyone was hitting in rehearsal consistently enough to make me happy), let’s just all have a great time.
Rehearsals are one thing; performances are quite another.
Phenomenon
It’s quite a phenomenon how an artist’s demeanor, carriage and expression can change in the presence of an audience. Whereas in rehearsal things are going great, in performance with the band and being surrounded on all sides by a screaming, engaged group of people, that can do things to one’s head. Doubt starts to creep in. Nerves take over.
And then, as in many battle rounds I’ve witnessed over the last few years on this show, you then see who the winner is. Sometimes it’s the kid who sang the most consistently throughout the number. At others, it’s the one who never once checked out, remaining engaged with the audience and his/her groupmates. It could be the kid who moved better, held his/her head higher, was more confident on that day. It could be anything, and we’ve seen just about everything.
Choosing a winner for each round is incredibly heart-wrenching. Regardless of how the coach reaches his/her decision, the round invariably ends with streams of tears flowing. And many times, the tears come from the kid who won!
Without fail, our hearts sink to the base of our stomachs, knowing that our decisions have a great impact on each child who goes through this most trying of competitions.
After the results are announced and we congratulate the winner, we rush to the stage where there are two children, shedding tears over their loss. We attempt to comfort them with tight hugs and words of reassurance that their talent goes beyond this one contest, and that they should—and rightfully so—continue to work at making that dream of singing superstardom come true.
Truly, I as a coach have been amazed by how much hard work these youngsters put in to perfect a song: trying to hit the elusive high note … streamline interpretation … get out from the muck and muddle and instead head to clarity.
What I’ve seen in these young artists is inspiring.
They may have chosen me to make a difference in their lives; instead, their presence makes a difference in mine, and I couldn’t be prouder to be the one they call “Coach.”
Keep watching, they’ll be making you proud, too.
