I have to put all of my biases on the table, here: I really love The Sing-Off. I am a fan. I’ve been there since the beginning and, to me, it’s like the runt of the singing show litter that I just want to protect and make sure it’s happy. But, oh, like its very own judges, I expect the best out of it too. Because I know how great it can be.
The Sing-Off exists in this bubble of a world where it’s not important to be cool. In fact, it’s better not to be. It’s full of questionable matching outfits, silly song choices and more music puns than you could have possibly believed existed. Its host is a former second-tier boy bander, its judges are acclaimed, but not exactly charting anymore, and its productions consists solely of the bodies on the stage and the voices they produce. But those judges are more charming and musically educated than just about any other, that host literally has nowhere else he’d rather be, and those voices can, at times, take your breath away. Who needs cool when you can just have fun? In its earnestness and specificity, The Sing-Off presents a few weeks of television that don’t attempt to change the world, just give you some good and interesting music from some quirky and modest dreamers. READ FULL STORY