When you no longer care about the Grammys, you’ve lost your capacity for joy.
You feel wronged? I understand that. Outraged. I sympathize. But those are all feelings, and to have them is thrilling in itself. At least your little heart is pounding.
P!nk hung from the roof of the Staples Center by a ribbon, people. She twirled, dunked, and in spite of it all, belted not one single breathless phrase. Do you know what kind of endurance that takes? What kind of dedication to your craft? And yet today, I faced this curmudgeon talking point: “Why do we need our singers to act like the friggin Cirque du Soleil?”
Of course we don’t need them to, and yet, to our overwhelming good fortune, they can. Doesn’t that put in perspective the pool of talent from which we pluck our pop artists? It is a vaudeville ocean into which we get to cast our nets, distractedly, lazily, only to wrastle up Gagas and Beyonces and even the rarest of P!nk fish. How fortunate are we.
So let’s just run our fingers over the texture of the matter. These greats are on the menu! Can we take a moment to be thankful for swinging a reservation?
Now, seriously, fuck Taylor Swift. I was sympathetic when Kanye embarrassed the trembling little thing at the VMAs. I thought, poor kid. Give her one of those popcorn statues to jazz up her horseback ribbon shelf. But where was Kanye last night after Beyonce busted her ass through an outrageous “If I were a Boy”/”You Oughta Know” medley only to concede album of the year to Fearless? I’m sorry, what exactly makes you fearless? Was it dancing so “silly” in your “You Belong to Me” video with those “dorky” Sally Jessie Raphael glasses? I’m not trying to be cruel. But, Taylor, sweet, young Taylor. You know that Stevie Nicks used to get coke blown up her ass by a midget, right? Bitch used to have some street cred. And you’ve got her singing back up for your song about nerd pining? Why do I feel like last night was only more than a fairytale for one of you?
I’ll just say one more thing, because it must be said. Yes, Gaga was robbed. But two strong points (I can say that because they were made by my boyfriend, not me.) One, making the people sitting behind her negotiate that hat was not good Grammy karma. Two, it should have been Gaga’s year, she played her little butt off on that scorched piano, but it just wasn’t. And good that it wasn’t. It’ll keep her hungry.