I actually don't have much to say about this year's show, except that it sadly underscored the deterioration of pop music and confirmed the static bad taste of the tin-eared NARAS people.
The all-too-long show began with a tribute to Aretha Franklin sung by five divas, two of whom—Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Hudson—I had actually heard before. They were okay as they sang some of Aretha's hits, but the best part of that segment was provided by the Queen of Soul herself. No, she didn't sing, but she expressed her thanks on a video clip, and—having lost what seems like tons of weight—she looked terrific.
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| Aretha Franklin on screen at 2011 Grammy show |
There were several painfully embarrassing instances of non-talent basking in unearned spotlights, perhaps none more cringe-inducing than that provided by Usher and his appallingly untalented "protegé", a kid named Justin Bieber. The latter was nominated in two categories and the good news is that he lost in both—that, at least, says something for the voters, because there is nothing there, and I do mean NOTHING! Singer-bassist Esperanza Spalding, who flirts with jazz, looks good and actually has talent, snatched the Best New Artist Grammy from the precocious teenyflopper. The mere fact that Bieber won any nomination is an indictment of the recording industry.
I needn't tell you that jazz was, once again, given the NARAS finger. It was barely mentioned, but they did use James Moody to kick off the obligatory obits. They also flashed, for a hot five seconds, a still of Roy Haynes, who--off the air, of course--received a "Lifetime Musical Achievement" award, and a student jazz group was used as a prop for the Academy's CEO, when he went into his annual feel-good/we-help-performers pitch.
Bob Dylan might have been interesting, but either his microphone was dead or it was severely turned down—if NARAS can be expected to have anything together, music and recording should top the list, but when all you want to hear is the ring of a cash register...
Another veteran, Barbra Streisand, fared much better, and 67 year old Mick Jagger pranced lithely as he paid tribute to Solomon Burke with "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love".
Lady GaGa? Well she popped out of an egg and did her thing, and Gwyneth Paltrow proved that she is a better actress than singer when she joined Cee-Lo Green and some Muppets on a widely discussed, awkwardly staged, cleaned-up version of his Grammy nominated "Fuck You".
When producer Pierre Cossette took off for the great beyond, a couple of years ago, I thought we might see better Grammy show productions, but no such luck. Visually, this year's show had about it an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink look with poorly choreographed dancers making predictable moves against a confusion of LCD screens.
More embarrassing than the Grammy show itself is the mindless reception this award gets from shallow media people. I think you know what I am talking about and I hope you agree with me that, rather than fawn over every moment of this silliness, these "reporters" ought to be asking pertinent questions, such as: How are the selections really made? (The truth might surprise, even disgust you). Why are great jazz and classical performances shoved into a dark corner? Why does the National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences not openly honor the technicians whose expertise makes it possible for us to hear the performances with increasing clarity and presence?
This year's show also introduced an odd shift in emphasis—particularly odd when one considers that there seems to be a Grammy category for every little thing. The shift? Well, there were very few actual envelope moments. Names were rattled off almost as asides and the focus was on performance. Why wasn't it thus balanced when there actually was real genuine talent backstage? Finally, why is the show NARAS refers to as "Music's Biggest Night" uninspired and artistically uneventful?
Why, indeed.
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| You may call it Artie Shaw, I call it disclosure. |
