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Admittedly, I am a singing reality show junkie, someone addicted to watching hopeful singers step on to the televised stage in a battle for votes. Week after week, I appraise a cavalcade of vocalists whose voices often blare on indistinguishably one from the other. I marvel at neophyte prodigies who bring gifts far beyond their years, and I cheer seasoned veterans who have cultivated their craft with precise yet surprising musicality. All this I do from my living room couch with improvised authority.
The Voice, for those who don't necessarily watch, is the reigning ratings queen of singing competitions. Closed for the seventh season this past December, its eighth season has been up and running since the end of February, providing relief for any withdrawal symptoms I may have been experiencing. The show's unique angle is set up at the start: celebrity musical coaches turn their royal red chairs, throne-like in stature, to judge contestants based on voice alone. The show’s …