The Grammys, after suffering from a catastrophic 3-year U2 shortage, finally got their fix last night when the group (whose last album, “How to Build the Most Stupendous PR Machine in the History of the Music Industry,” was nominated for Grammys in various categories for…how many years in a row? 27?) opened the telecast with some song that I’m going to guess was about boots, since Bono, whose voice could barely be heard, kept lifting up his legs and pointing to his boots. I can only conclude that his performance was meant to be a public service for those Grammy viewers with hearing disabilities. When they call Bono a humanitarian they aren’t fucking kidding, people.
Come to think of it, U2 definitely established the Grammys’ unintentional theme of the evening, which was, “I can’t hear the vocals. Jesus Christ. How many strings tracks are they using, anyway?”
The Grammys didn’t hesitate to bring the crazy right off the bat, as presenter Whitney Houston was definitely on something, although it seemed to be maybe only massive amounts of alcohol or pain killers, and not crack. Her wig, on the other hand – still on crack.
Next, The Rock proclaimed that “The Grammys are a way of life,” a statement that should have sent the entire audience running for the exits, before the doors to the Staples Center were locked from the outside, and they were all forced to spend their remaining years in a Korbel-induced stupor whilst trying to avoid bumping into Boyz 2 Men in the greenroom toilet. Le Rock next attempted several verbal Grammy-related assaults, finally proclaiming, with an impish grin, that like Katy Perry, he, too, enjoyed kissing girls…which is hilarious because…he’s a MAN! GET IT? HE’S A MAN! HA HA HA!
Cut to Katy Perry, who rolled her eyes at the camera. And can I just say, I have a HUGE problem with that.
First of all, Katy Perry should not be disrespecting the man who in all probability will be the star of the first film to cast her in some small part that she cannot fuck up too bad after she inevitably turns her considerable ambition to the big screen. Which no doubt will be the first item on her agent’s agenda after single #2 flops the big flop.
Secondly, Katy Perry, don’t go sarcastic on The Rock, because a) it’s wasted, and b) at least the dude could wrestle, or whatever it is that those wrestling dudes do. You, on the other hand, cannot even manage to sing what must surely be a strong contender for TOP TEN SIMPLEST SONGS EVER without making everyone in the audience wish that you had packed a pitch corrector in your ironic banana corset. At least he managed to become famous without marketing his product with a video straight out of Penthouse Forum, complete with a bad Fredericks of Hollywood wardrobe and a cast that appeared to be blow-up sex dolls with AFTRA cards. Listen, Katy, have you ever kissed a girl for real? Because it’s not like an episode of “The Girls Next Door,” okay? Because those girls don’t kiss girls because they like it; they kiss girls for money.
Come to think of it, Katy, it might not be too late to audition for the next season.
Anyways, it wasn’t too long before the 2nd most inevitable Grammy band, Coldplay, took the stage for some really hard-core earnestness, which was made all the more earnest by the fact that Chris Martin could barely be heard above…I dunno…whatever that shit is that plays in the background of every single goddamn Coldplay song.
You know, it’s not that I hate them, exactly, I just wish that award shows would stop thinking that because they’re recognizing Coldplay, they are somehow appreciating something innovative. Another member of Coldplay, while accepting one of their Inevitable Awards, apologized to McCartney, sitting in the audience, for copping the Sgt. Pepper uniform bit. Only, the uniforms that Coldplay wears are pastel. The Beatles at least had the good sense to wear jewel tones. Hello.
Also high on the list of Grammy inevitables is Kid Rock, who performed several songs that seemed mostly designed to position himself as the new redneck laureate. And I applaud that, because I think it’s damn hard to base a whole career on an affinity for midgets and being drunk in Vegas. Still, I just can’t approve the creation of, nor an appreciation for, a song that is essentially a mash-up of “Werewolves of London” and “
Oh, and a small side note to Blink 182: before you proclaim to an audience of 20 thousand people that your band is “back,” you really should make sure there’s a least one person there who cares. Because, crickets. Ouch.
And now, it's time for Spooney's 2 cents:"What is with that Carrie Underwood chick's guitar player? Is that 1980s Nancy Wilson? She's all fake metal. And look at the wicked stupid '80s BC Rich guitar!"Funny, right? Thank you, Spooney.
Also, does Kanye West have a mullet now? Color me intrigued.
Which reminds me: hip hop summit, aka the Rap Pack.
This much bally-hooed moment, in which rap giants Kanye, Jay-Z, T.I. and Lil Wayne performed “Swagga Like Us,” would have been a total 4 minute honk-shoe were it not for a very pregnant M.I.A., who bounced around the stage in a polka dot…um, dress? determined to mash her hit “Paper Planes” into the ensuing mess. It was right up there with Radiohead backed by the USC Trojan Marching Band as Best Killa Moment of the telecast, if only because it was kind of awesome to see so much faux gangsta testosterone so effectively thwarted by what appeared to be a magic dancing lady bug.
Interspersed throughout the evening were Lifetime Achievement Awards, which this year went to Gene Autry, Brenda Lee, The Four Tops, Dean Martin, folk artist Tom Paxton, the Blind Boys of Alabama, and jazz pianist Hank Jones.
Okay, here’s my beef. Except for the brief bit and all-star homage to the Four Tops (which would’ve been much better if the stars could’ve, uh, sung harmony, which was kind of the whole reason to love the Four Tops), we got zero information on any of the LAA winners. How much cooler would it have been, to have seen, say, a three minute video about why Dean Martin was so freaking awesome than to see Justin Timberlake and T.I. perform for the second time on a 4 hour show? How about we skip Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift, and instead learn the younguns all about the magnificent Brenda Lee, and why she should be worshipped as a divine goddess who deigned to walk the earth?
How about we skip Kenny Chesney, and his hat-down “aw shucks, me sing?” act, and instead do ourselves the gigantic favor of hearing Gene Autry lay down a song or two. Because Gene Autry was amazing, y’all, and everyone should know that, and if our National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences can’t manage to make us understand why, maybe we should devote 4 hours of prime time to someone who can.
