It began as all things begin; with doubt.
I'm a very cynical person, and every January all that misanthropy is presented with an outlet in the form of Awards Season. I dislike Awards Season. While celebrities don't tend to project any real sense of humility, this time of year their ego-stroking seems to kick into high-gear. And while the Golden Globes, the Emmys, and the Academy Awards are notorious for their self-preoccupation, there is nothing that comes close to the kind of megalomaniacal narcissism on display at the Grammys.
I'm not going to talk about the Pre-Show Red Carpet Exhibition. I have no frame-of-reference to provide insightful commentary about what Ryan Seacrest and Jay Emmanuel have to say about the "clothes" Lady Gaga is "wearing."
What the fuck?
Instead I'm going to run through some of my very favorite moments from last night.
- Jennifer Lopez referring to Green Day's American Idiot as "the beginning," as if Kerplunk, Dookie, Insomniac, Nimrod, and Warning never happened. I'm not one of the people who feel as though Green Day is a supergroup who transcend punk and pop, but the fact that JLo, who hasn't been relevant since "Maid in Manhattan," (ha) was presenting, and that the writers felt it necessary to trivialize the impressive endurance of an aesthetically pleasing group of musicians was an irritating combination.
- Taylor Swift's pitchy performance with Stevie Nicks. It was difficult to watch the adorable, media-proclaimed wunderkind squint her way through "Rhiannon." It was equally difficult to listen to the once-sultry, once-sexy, once-cabalistic Stevie tambourine her way through "You Belong With Me." I felt like I was watching Zach Braff try and keep up with Q-Tip for a rousing rendition of "Sucka Nigga." Awkward.
- MGMT not winning the Best New Artist award. This is what I love about the Grammys: it's not really about the music. It's about giving the most popular groups the love because the bible-belt gobbles it up after they're told it's country. Let's not give the award to the most promising young band to come along in perhaps the last decade because they're less accessible than fried chicken and cold beer on Friday night. Stupid.
- Katy Perry.
- Russell Brand.
- Miley Cyrus.
- Beyonce's performance and the way she tries to fit every note into the end of a line that makes her sound like Jewell yodeling in the backseat of a car doing seventy on the backroads to Siam Reap. It's a microcosm of what's happening to music and the Grammys. The emphasis is placed upon the spectacle, upon just how much you can do halfway decent, not on something poignant and simple that you can do very well. I'm not saying everything needs to be simple, I'm saying I don't need to hear a vocal exercise during a performance.
- Jon Bon Jovi? C'mon.
The most redeeming event of the night was the presentation of the Best Song Award by Mr. Stephen Colbert, when after his announcement to the audience that their industry had been saved by a crazy-cat lady (Susan Boyle,) he said, "Now let's stop congratulating each other and let's give ourselves awards!"
Indeed.
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