More like Bjørn – Dagsavisen

I do not know if you have seen “Star Wars” or not – the song program on NRK with celebrities who are not really celebrities – but regardless: hear me out.

Bear.

A shy yodeler from Tomrefjord reached, against all odds, the final last weekend.

Week after week, he knocked out c-celebrity after c-celebrity. Not because he smiled big and waved his arms, or performed songs people had heard before. There were no flamethrowers here. He even sang a cappella on the huge NRK stage. And we, the same audience who love noisy entertainment and magnificent mascara-style costumes, fell in love.

[ Hva er det som har skjedd når artister som nærmest får kronisk hets og slakt, blir skamrost av dommere i beste sendetid på NRK? ]

Bear. Throughout the broadcast, people have just called him for it. Not with surnames, like the final competitor Alexandra Rotan, who sings technically perfectly and has done “branding” in every joint – with strobe lights and ball gowns.

Do you know why?

Yes, we call him Bjørn because we feel he is one of us. With his one-word syllables in response when the host has asked what it was like to sing live (Jo. Bra), their risky song choices (Whitney Houston, but on box guitar – in the FINAL!) and complete lack of need for attention and praise (he thinks it’s great if more people come to the concert, but did not know what Star Wars was when he signed up). But most of all, we like Bjørn Tomren because he is real.

And real has become a scarce commodity in our society.

Not just on TV.

We live in a world where people find love on one app, look up and download the same app again. We sit on our phones on the bus, in our own world, and when a stranger greets us on the street, we assume they are a bit cow-cow.

[ «Maskorama» handler om å finne ut hvem av høstens kostymer som skjuler Abid Raja ]

Young people sign up for Paradise Hotel and Farmen because they want to become celebrities, and some of Norway’s leading psychologists talk about the “market value” of people who are looking to find love. And now we are waiting for my father to develop a virtual universe – so we will not have to walk out the door to meet each other at all. Your avatar can do it for you.

Stop the train, I want to fuck off.

We’re talking about being real, and we’re trying our best. But even then, a point is made out of it. Like when people take a break from Instagram by writing a long text about why they need to take a break from Instagram. Or influencers, who should show that they also struggle, but still have to pose and get likes to do so.

We are simply so ribbed for authenticity, that when Bjørn stood there with his messy weld and guitar, we lost it. The world’s least commercial guy, the south won me the world’s most commercial TV show.

The Norwegian people chose the real over the perfect. For once. That kind of thing threatens me.

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