Americans have diverse musical taste. There is country, western, country & western, rap, hip-hop, rock, pop, death metal, ska, jazz, classical, techno, punk, big band, soul, r&b, and many other styles.
A couple of nights ago, the Recording Academy (what do they record?) staged a special on TV to showcase nominations for the Grammy awards. It was the usual self-gratification those in the arts communities serve up so they can feel how wonderful they are. Unfortunately, there are many in the non-arts community who lap up that kind of fare like a weight watchers meeting on a pepperoni pizza – enough so that these shows continue to be produced.
This is aided by news media that serves that tripe up for adoring fans. There is little in the media that detracts from the adulation being heaped upon those being nominated and given the awards.
Until now.
Holy cow, the Guardian just did not like that show or the music therein at all.
It starts out with a slam:
Nobody turns to American music award ceremonies to see a true representation of the best music of the year. But do they turn to them to see the worst? Yes, would seem to be the verdict from whatever devilish minds put together Wednesday night’s evil special, “The Grammy Nominations Concert Live!”
Ouch.
Other than sadism, there can be no other explanation for the sonic boom of hell that was a live duet featuring that master of subtlety, Ludacris – a singer perhaps best known for a song that features the Shakespearean chorus of “Get back, mother——, you don’t know me like that” – and Jason Aldean, an extraordinary young man whose life ambition appears to be to marry the two genres of rap and country music.
If you think that sounds like a marriage that would make Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? look a model of romance, you would be underestimating what it’s like to watch a man do hip-hop hand gestures while wearing a cowboy hat with Ludacris gurning in the wings. All that was lacking was background imagery of strip malls and the Kardashians for the tableau of American hell to be complete.
It takes style, education, superior writing skill, and the right touch of venom to deliver that much revenge for the assault of the senses that this show delivered.
There is much, much more – some even almost apologetic that they had to rip the show to shreds.
To be fair, LL Cool J, Lupe Fiasco, Rick Ross and Common’s rendition of The Message with the Grandmaster Flash wasn’t too painful, even if they all appeared to be having a lot more fun than anyone else. L L Cool J – who was also the host and came to the event dressed as Guy Ritchie, replete with tweeds and flat cap – bounced about the stage with all the reticence one would expect of a man whose self-given name is an avowal of his popularity with the ladeez.
As they say, read the whole thing.
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