Shortly after the Grammys (™ - if that’s what I’m supposed to do – don’t want the Trademark Police to get gangsta on my tush) started, I thought that I should take notes and blog away like I did for that Prince concert a week ago. Oh well, my bad.
Let’s play catch-up. I had one reason to watch – The Police. No, their performance of "Roxanne" did not cause me to have towels nearby for The Wife. While Stingo looked good (s*it, if I looked like that I might get some trantric booty, or whatever it is he does), The Wife was waiting with the comment: “He should color his hair.” That, in woman-speak is a nice way of saying, “I wish you’d lose that f***ing Goodyear Blimp of a gut and start looking like a real man. Oh, and YOU used to have some definition to your arms. What the f*** happened?”
You have to know how to read through these things, peeps. I'm kidding. I think.
Anywho, the cops performance was one of those good/eh moments. That is, they started out rocking in the first verse and chorus, staying true to the studio version. Other than Stewart Copeland’s glasses, they looked fairly similar to their 1983 look. So things were going so well, they were bordering on great. Then came the end of the chorus and Gordo’s breaking into what I call CD 101.9 territory. That, for you outside of New York, is a nice way of saying that a lot of Sting’s post-Police work was pseudo jazz crap (CD 101.9 is an elevator music station). Don’t get me wrong, many of Stingo’s solo stuff is top-notch, but at times, it borders on Kenny G. And for a guy of his talent, that is just WRONG. So unfortunately, what started as a potential A+ dropped to an A- at best. Ultimately it’s getting that grade because of the moment itself, not because it rocked. Oh, what could have been?
Now we begin the waiting process for the tour and the tickets that we won’t get or the tickets we will get to an ultra-painful experience. The agony!
(Monday Edit - the tour is being announced. I've got nothing to add.)
Dang, I’ve got catching up to do here, don’t I? As I write, that idiotic “Grammy Idol” (or whatever they’re calling it) has concluded with some nice young lady named Robin shaking her booty with Justin Timberlake. I have to admit it – JT is a freaking talented dude. Thank god he ditched the boy band thing.
OK, I’m going to try to hit the tree tops here.
Mary J. Blige – you won. Then you won again. God is thrilled. I’m thinking Jesus is also. Why do you, and others think that you have to read 1000 thank you’s? Just stand up there and say, “I’m deeply humbled and honored. Thank you all”, and walk away.
The Dixie Chicks – they’re fine. I have no problem with them. They spoke their mind. The song is good. They even low-keyed their wins. So be it. Move on.
PS – They just won Record of the Year. Somewhere, President George W. Bush is horrified. He things he deserves a cut.
PPS – Tony Bennett and Quentin Tarrantino gave them the award. Many will say that Tarrantino was annoying. I thought he was hysterical.
Another Prince appearance. He said, “One word: Beyonce”, and walked off. That didn’t impress me, nor did B’s performance. She’s got more than that.
Justin Timberlake popped “JustinCam” on us. Whoever directed tonight’s broadcast did a fair job of making sure few lost their pre-Grammy meal. Besides, it reminded me of the video for “Hip to Be Square.” If we can revolve musical life around a little Huey Lewis, then all is well.
Tonight gave me an opportunity to work on my Stevie Wonder impression. There are fundamental problems here, but the fact is this: it got a laugh from The Wife. Mission accomplished.
I have family in Fairfield, Connecticut, where John Mayer grew up and graduated from high school. I think John Mayer is incredibly talented but I have a question – is there something in the water of Fairfield that causes young men to grow their hair long? I don’t care, despite my short hair. I’m simply looking for answers.
Then again, Tim Parry (the broadcaster) is, um, sans locks, and I think he lives in Fairfield. By the way, Tim was excellent in his maiden broadcasting voyage as my partner on SportingNewsCT Saturday. I told him that I though he’d be good and I’m starting to think I might have a future in discovering broadcasting talent.
I’m off course again. Back on: Why were Gnarls Barkley bringing us an airplane look for “Crazy?” Further, why did they take the energy out of the song?
The Red Hot Chili Peppers are performing now and it’s snowing. Lame-o, this is what I say-o. Really really freaking lame. They should have done “Dani California”, which is perhaps the best song they’ve ever done. And the best video they’ve ever done.
When your resort to stuff like this, it screams, “our music sucks and so does this show.” The show has lacked energy, something that disappeared when Stingo took “Roxanne” from being punk meets reggae meets New Wave to crappy jazz three hours ago.
Incidentally, I am a huge jazz fan with a large collection of jazz music. So yeah, I’m a snob.
Why is Al Gore on my TV right now, presenting awards? And why is he grabbing a look at Queen Latifah’s cleavage?
What the hell was going on with Smokey Robinson? He looked like he is on loan from Madame Tussaud’s.
I love the Eagles, but why was the tribute to them with Carrie Underwood and Rascal Flats necessary? Oh, and Carrie, the clock is ticking. When they hand you the Best New Artist, it becomes official.
Christina Aguilera paid tribute to James Brown? Well she tried, give her that. The girl can sing, and she tried a few moves. But the ball was hit out of the ol’ yard when they completed the “in memoriam” segment. Danny Ray, the Godfather’s longtime MC (at least I think it was him) walked out with James Brown’s cape, waved it around, then put it over the microphone. Wow. About the only chills I got all night.
You know I’ve come a long way when I’m watching the presentation for the Best Rap Album award and, following the winning announcement, I say, “My boy Luda won.”
That’s short for Ludacris, in case some of you squares needed to know. Luda gave love to Shawn Carter, and I knew who he was talking about. That’s Jay-Z, playa.
Oh, James Blunt. People want you to go away. Sorry, mate.
Wait, Don Henley was AT the Grammy’s and he didn’t perform in the tribute to his band? I want a do-over.
Wait, Don just smiled! I love Henley. Politics aside, he is one of my musical heroes. Scarlett Johannsen is presenting with him, and she leaned over to talk into the microphone, and what more can you say? She’s definitely tightly bound in that dress.
Don Henley just wet himself. The Dixie Chicks won Album of the Year. So it wasn’t Mary J. Blige’s night after all. I’m shocked.
Then again, I’m not.
And we’re done. Not quite three and a half hours, including about an hour’s worth of lousy commercials.
The thing I’m most pleased about is that both The Wife and I actually knew most, if not all, of the music presented tonight. Again, that’s progress.
Next up? The Oscars.
Oh, I would be remiss if I didn't get this off my chest, and pardon that pun. I know many, especially the tabloids, are mourning the death of Anna Nicole Smith. I'm sad that a 39 year-old mother is dead, having just given birth. So a little girl will never know her mother. That's sad. What's worse is that Hank Bauer, a Yankees outfielder and Marine, also passed away, and that receives a yawn. Bauer was a good ballplayer; one who got lost in the shuffle of the Mantle years. The hardcore fan knew him. He also won a World Series as manager of the Orioles in 1966. Beyond the fact that he was a good ballplayer, leader, manager, and so on, he defended our country and should be regarded as an American hero. I thought you should know that.
One more thing - Pitchers and catchers report to Florida this week. There's light at the end of the tunnel!