This is the face I imagine Jeremy Jordan makes when he hears the horrendous auto-tuning on "Smash." Photo by Katie Buenneke.

Please stop auto-tuning Jeremy Jordan.

I know you and I have had our disagreements in the past. I can understand why you'd be mad at me, since I describe you to my friends as "simultaneously wonderful and awful," but let's bury the hatchet. Somehow, you've become a decent show, and I'm just going to accept that and not question it, so let's let bygones be bygones, ok?

But you really, really need to stop auto-tuning Jeremy Jordan.

I'll go ahead and play the hipster card and say I've loved him ever since I found out about "Bonnie & Clyde." Then I actually saw "Bonnie & Clyde," and I still loved him in spite of the show—an impressive feat on his part, no? Then I saw him in "Newsies" and was happy for him when he received his Tony nomination for the show. I was even ecstatic for him when he booked his role on "Smash," even though it meant he had to leave "Newsies."

So you might say I'm familiar with his voice. I won't detail how many hours I've spent watching YouTube videos of his performances or listening to him croon away on cast recordings, or even watching him perform live in person. Let's just say it's an embarrassingly high number and leave it there.

Yes, I am aware of the fact that he is occasionally flat. But do you know what? I don't mind it. He has a wonderful voice, one which I adore listening to, and I've never once winced because he was flat. He has more than enough charm to make me not care about the perfection of his pitch.

But do you know what does make me wince? Listening to the horrendous auto-tuning of his voice that happens every time he sings on "Smash." I did not get so excited about my beloved Clyde Barrow/Jack Kelly being cast on a TV show all about Broadway just to hear him sound like T-Pain's lovechild (though, to be honest, I don't think anyone wants to listen to that).

So I'm going to come out and say it publicly: I would so much rather hear Jeremy Jordan sing a smidge flat than listen to this weird robotic version of him you're hawking. Oh, yeah, and I'd probably actually buy songs from the show instead of streaming them on Spotify—I certainly haven't been shy about spending my time/money to see him sing whatever pitch he feels like singing in the past. So, for the love of all that's good in the world (like puppies, rainbows, and Jeremy Jordan's real-life voice), or, failing that, for the love of my money, please stop auto-tuning Jeremy Jordan.

Love,
Katie

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