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 t
was easy to tell from the very beginning that this would be a very
different Grammy Awards show. Following an exhilarating opening
performance by U2 ("Walk On"), host Jon Stewart walked
through an archway which immediately beeped. He was immediately
told to walk back through by "security" (a gentleman who
looked suspiciously like comedian Jimmy Kimmel of Comedy Central's
inane The Man Show and Fox's NFL pre-game show). By the end
of the skit, two burly football-sized "guards" had stripped
Stewart to his boxers.
Stewart noted,
"Remember the days when we only had to worry about security
because Eminem and Elton John were singing together?"
That was, of
course, just last year — and that had been the main controversy
and "hook" for the telecast: Allegedly homophobic white
rapper dueted with the flamboyant and openly gay '70s pop superstar
on the song, "Stan" (no relation to recently famous siblings
Afghani-, Uzbeki-, Paki-, or Turkmeni-).
A lot has changed
in that year.
The Grammys
showed the difference. In the main, this was a rather tasteful,
restrained affair. A bit long (it went 30 minutes over its scheduled
three hours). It nonetheless accomplished its mission — showing
off the best in contemporary popular music, with several touching
tributes to the 9/11.
While never
as over-the-top offensive as its younger, hipper, and definitely
more crass rival, MTV's Video Music Awards, the Grammys have suffered
in recent years with an identity crisis. It always tried to juggle
its role as the "official" arbiter of authentically good
music while being so stodgy that it missed good music by contemporary
artists. Famous Grammy miscues included the Beatles only winning
three Grammy awards while they were an active band; Jethro Tull
winning a Best Hard Rock Performance award and, of course, ersatz
group Milli Vanilli winning a Best New Artist (an "honor"
that has spelled career doom for more than one "winner").
And so it has
gone.
Over the last
couple of years, head of the National Academy of Recording Arts
& Sciences (NARAS) Michael Greene has worked to bring the show
stylistically into the 21st century — with some success, as
the "buzz" surrounding the aforementioned Eminem/Elton
John duet demonstrated. The price of this, unfortunately, has been
Greene's insisting that he insert himself into a prominent role
each year — when the time would be better given to another
performance or someone with actual talent.
(Who does he
think he is? Spike Lee?)
This year was
no different, but we'll get to that shortly.
This was a
good, solid show. The producers just pushed the music. The awards
almost seemed to be an afterthought to showing performers, thus
it was almost a lengthy concert with an award presentation and acceptance
slipped in here and there. Generally speaking, that worked.
As said, U2
was a solid opener. They were also the guys to beat with eight nominations,
including the coveted record and album-of-the-year nods. Well, it
turned out, the guys to beat were: Neo-soul rookie Alicia
Keys beat them for total wins (five to four) and the out-of-nowhere
O Brother, Where Art Thou bluegrass soundtrack pulled the
biggest upset, nudging out "All That You Can't Leave Behind"
for Album of the Year.
Every non-American
sick of the U.S. military hegemony and near-clean up at the Olympics
must have been even further disgusted as not even the Best Band
in the World — God's gift from Ireland — could stop America's
current hegemony from extending into the prime music-awards shoe.
Well, they
(the anti-American crowd) will get over it. U2 has always had a
true love for America — warts, right-wing politicians, and
all.
That's why
the Lefty-leaning band has fans right here at NRO. This particular
writer is a big U2 and gave a favorable review to the current album
(which can be found here.
Yesterday, Terry
Mattingly gave an honest exploration of the band's spirituality.
Awards' show watchers should hope and pray that Bono — with
or without his bandmates — will continue to make appearances.
Whether a presenter or a recipient, U2's charismatic lead singer
always manages to give an eloquent statement. He was somewhat subdued
last night though, demonstrating thanks that his best friends had
been his bandmates for 20 years. And Record of the Year for "Walk
On" is a pretty cool consolation prize.
Owing to 9/11,
that was the general tone of the entire show: Tasteful and displaying
a gratitude that married the personal with the universal.
The music honored
was, in a sense, timeless. The O Brother music was, of course,
classic bluegrass. But a clear line could be drawn to Alicia Keys
from Stevie Wonder. One of the biggest crowd-pleasers was the appearance
of ultra-diva Patti LaBelle at the conclusion of the hip-hop remake
of her classic "Lady Marmalade." Patti LaBelle, as usual,
screamed as much as sung — and the crowd loved it. Only question
was, why didn't she come out earlier. It would have been no great
loss if Christina Aguilera, L'il Kim, Mya, or Pink had gotten less
airtime. While Train's "Days of Jupiter" (Best Rock Song)
may not be original, you can hear echoes of early U2 earnestness
in the melody.
Of course,
a major awards hazard is the pretentious — or just plan dumb
— speech. This show was pretty much devoid of them. Except
for the aforementioned Mr. Greene.
Greene felt
the need to lecture the audience — including those at home
— on how illegal downloading from the Internet is the biggest
threat to the music industry. Greene earnestly stated how they had
hired three college students just to download music over the few
days before the show. He pointed to the hardworking kids: They downloaded
6,000 songs!!!! Outrageous.
Of course,
Greene didn't say how much he paid the students for this exercise
(did they get to keep the downloaded tunes?). Greene pays himself
a shade under $2,000,000 for running NARAS plus a $1 million-home
and Mercedes Benz that the association provides for him. The New
York Post reported over the weekend that much of the industry
is not exactly thrilled with size of Greene's compensation. So,
his lamentations of industry poverty were amusing on their face.
Blame the shrinking
profit margins on kids trading songs, right? Even though: CDs are
incredibly inexpensive to produce — yet cost nearly $20 for
a new disk; the companies have phased out the entry-level "singles"
over the years and continue to pump out lengthy, banal product.
Yet, Greene wonders why young people are trading songs with the
technology available to them. (Maybe Greene got a hint with the
scattering of boos that his speech received).
What is Greene's
solution? "We need leadership from Washington." Oh, right
that's going to solve everything. By "leadership," don't
be surprised if Greene demands that anti-copying chips be placed
in PCs, to make CD-burning as difficult as possible. The record
companies have tried this before. In the'80s "home-taping"
was allegedly "destroying" the industry. They ended up
bullying Congress into adding extra taxes on blank cassettes that
would be supposedly redirected to artists and songwriters. The war
with Napster was only the beginning — and all of us may be
paying the price for the music industry's bad business decisions.
But, enough,
not even Greene could drag the show down. Country superstar Alan
Jackson's "Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning"
was a moving elegy to September 11. It also probably carries the
distinction of being one of the few hit contemporary songs (outside
of gang-banging rap) that contains a lyric about reaching for a
gun.
The show ended
with an all-star group of gospel singers — including the legendary
Al Greene, who was honored during the show.
Not too much
boorish behavior, a lot of good music, and only one insufferable
speech: Why can't more awards shows be like this?
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