Friday, February 08, 2008
Stand up and sneer for the Grammys
Ralph Berrier
Riffs, the regional music scene as heard by The Roanoke Times reporter Ralph Berrier, will appear weekly on Sundays.
Recent columns
Grammys, shmammies.
The Grammy Awards turn 50 this year, which is a big deal to some people. To me, however, 50 is the new Who Gives A Rip.
Serious music fans -- and many serious music artists -- stopped paying attention to the Grammys years ago. The awards, which are supposed to honor the best music of the past year, usually go to performers who offend the fewest geriatric voters, especially if the performer is a cute girl.
I gave up on the Grammys in 1985. I watched that show on a snowy black-and-white TV in my dorm room, wondering who would win the best album award. Two classics were among the nominees, Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." and Prince's "Purple Rain." Which would win? I loved both of them.
Naturally, the Grammy went to "Can't Slow Down" by Lionel Richie.
(As a side note, the other nominees that year were Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" and Cyndi Lauper's "She's So Unusual," either of which would have been a better choice than Lionel.)
That was enough for me. I didn't watch another Grammy Awards broadcast until I began covering music for this newspaper 15 years later. I admit, I missed a lot of great Grammy moments:
>> Milli Vanilli's "Best New Artist" victory in 1990, which was revoked when it was revealed that, in English, Milli Vanilli roughly translates to "Wha? I thought the other guy was singing!"
>> Those flute-blowing headbangers of Jethro Tull winning "Best Hard Rock/Metal Performance" over soft-rock kings Metallica in 1989. And you wonder why the Metallica dudes needed counseling later.
>> Celine Dion's "Album of the Year" Grammy in 1997 for "Falling Into You," which beat Beck's "Odelay," the Fugees' "The Score" and Smashing Pumpkins' "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness." But honestly, it shouldn't have mattered if the competition was Alvin and the Chipmunks sing Lionel Richie, Celine winning best album is reason enough to block Canadians at the border.
Shed no tears for me, though. I returned to Grammy-watching in 2001 just in time to catch Radiohead, Beck and Eminem lose the best album Grammy to Steely Dan.
The post-1990s Grammys have been all about the old guys, especially the ones who didn't win any awards back when they deserved them. There used to be this great statistic, now outdated, about the Chipmunks having won more Grammys than Bob Dylan. These days, Dylan could belch his way through the catalog of, oh, I don't know, Lionel Richie, and win a Grammy. Not that it wouldn't be good.
Yes, I am a total hypocrite when it comes to the Grammys.
If artists I like win, I'm happy for them. "Finally," I exclaim, "Grammy gets it right!" The words "Grammy-winning" before any performer's name still carry a certain cachet -- even if it is Kenny G.
Just as I wrote this column, I received an e-mail slugged "Grammy winner Dan Tyminski to perform in Roanoke."
I like Dan, so I'm happy he won a Grammy, and I'm happy he's bringing it to Roanoke. I was pleased as a pig in slop when all those "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" folks swept the Grammys in 2002. Sue me.
So, happy birthday, Grammys. And good luck, Foo Fighters, Kanye West, Beyonce and Amy Winehouse. I hope you win big. Hey, Amy's got a shot to win the Big Four -- record, album and song of the year and best new artist!
If she does, she'll be only the second performer to ever smack that grand slam. The other? No, it isn't the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Elton John, Prince, R.E.M., U2 or the Boss.
It was Christopher Cross in 1982.
