Mix'd Bag

Grammys 2013 | The High Notes

0 Comments 15 | February | 2013

In case you didn’t set aside 3.5 hours of your life this past Sunday to marvel at the spectacle that was the 55th Grammy Awards, I will do you the favor of summarizing the evening’s events through an LDD lens.  That way, when you read this a week after the show and nobody is talking about it you can feel confident that you are also not talking about it, but it’s not because you don’t know, aren’t hip, or were too busy sitting on your left hand until it was asleep so you could give yourself the sloppiest handjob of your life.

First off, I will give you the warning that I was not afforded.  The Grammy’s is an award show celebrating music made in the previous year, NOT an award show dedicated to individuals who display profound excellence in the use of grammar.  I mean, that would just make too much sense.  And don’t give me the “gramophone” excuse.  That crazy contraption had no business being called anything other than a “music tulip”.

Anyway, I chose to DVR the affair since that would allow me to blast through both commercials and pitiful acceptance speeches that were obviously practiced ad nauseum into a hairbrush.  Not to mention the bearded buzzkill  who crashes the party every year , two-thirds of the way through, to drone on and on about “the foundation” and how super-boring he is at parties and how he was never cool in high school, but look at me now I’m the guy at the Grammys you stupid jockstraps.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, that guy deserves a new fast-forward speed.  One that actually heats the DVR recorder to the point you can conduct nuclear fusion experiments on it.

Setting aside my grammar-related disappointment and resigned to the fact that a 4x fast-forward would suffice, I pressed play and sat back to see what the “best” in the music biz had to offer….

Gangsta Bunny says, "I may look soft, but I'm hard core."

Taylor Swift kicked off the whole she-bang with her ubiquitous break-up anthem “We Are Never Ever (Ever Ever Ever, repeating decimal) Getting Back Together.”  She and her entourage donned Alice in Wonderland outfits as they pranced around like Cirque du Soleil’s “Furries”.  Not sure if that exists, but next time I’m in Vegas I’ll drop that in the suggestion box.

As if the attire wasn’t confusing enough, her recent dating habits make that song applicable to 10% of the U.S. male population.  Though I’m sure John Mayer was lovin’ it in the front row…that is if his eyes strayed even for once second from Katy Perry’s heaving bosom which was restrained only by a thin layer of ultra high-strength fabric designed by NASA.  Even if he did manage to break his stare, it was only to redirect it lustfully into the camera, and into the bedrooms of every teenage girl watching, as if to say, “you wanna party?”

The only dress more distracting was J-Lo’s, which had a former life as a shadow puppeteer’s costume.  After chopping off one leg and one arm it was deemed ready for the red carpet.  Poised to present an award alongside Pitbull, she looked like a pogo-stick.  Pitbull almost leaned into the mic and said, “you look gorgeous tonight, Ilene.”  *whoops*

Does that leg go all the way up?

It was a big night for the band Fun., who took the stage to perform and also took home awards for “Song of the Year” and “Best New Artist”.  I’m hoping the victories will bring some added revenue and they can finally afford some socks.

By the time they were called up for their second award of the night, the lead singer, who is fondly referred to as “Muppet Wahlberg” (by me), was comfortable enough with his new A-list status, to proclaim the discomfort in his bladder.  From A-list to P-list.

This! Is! How! We! Start! The! Muuuppet! Shoooooow!!!

Miranda Lambert has big thighs.  Sorry, that is all I saw….minus the way she looked at Dierks Bentley like he was a cheesecake.

Wiz Khalifa’s suit, designed by Magic Eye, almost drew my attention completely away from the fact that he is quickly running out of tattoo real estate.  Next Level:  Mike Tyson.

It's a sailboat.

Side Note:  I was pleasantly surprised that it took 45 minutes before someone thanked God.

Speaking of thanking God, Chris Brown never took the stage.  Instead, he remained in the front row, where security could keep a close eye on him.  It was also satisfying that when his name was read as a nominee  for “Best Urban Contemporary Album”,  the theater fell silent with the exception of a few dedicated fans who received “autographs” after the show; and by “autographs” I mean black eyes.

Mumford & Sons’ perpetual fanfare kept the show going and proved once again that the banjo is a socially acceptable instrument and not just a harbinger of good, old-fashioned backwoods sodomy.

Mumford & Sodom & Gomorrah & Sons

J.T.’s back, ALRIGHT!  Wait, wrong boy band.  Justin Timberlake has come a long way from mouseketeer, to bleach-blonde frosted Q-tip, to disco ball crushing sex god, and now to big band crooner strutin’ his stuff with Jay-Z.  Watch out Sinatra, this kid has swagger and his bowtie is floppier than your ballsac.  All bets point to the highly successful launch of Versace Clown this spring.

"What's that, LDD? You think you're funny, don'tcha. NoBowtiesForYou!"

Alicia Keys’ underboob was trying to peak out and catch a glimpse of Katy Perry’s everywhereboob, while Kelly Clarkson’s acceptance speech for “Best Pop Vocal Album” quickly derailed into a booze-soaked lovefest, “I got stuck to Miranda Lambert, there’s a story in a song, for later, after alcohol.”  She went on to thank her best friend, Dr. Unk, for his contribution to the evening.  It was a fantastically light and real moment that was hopefully enjoyed by all.

I juth halfto thaank, Jeeeebus and Yak Daniels!!

The Black Keys performed with a sedate Dr. John, who seemed to be losing consciousness under the weight of his headdress.

"You awake, doc?"

For the sake of equality, the Keys of Black were followed by the Jack of White, who tantalized the crowd with a Blunderbuss medley.  Kicking it off with “Love Interruption” he was accompanied by a herum of six women clad in dresses purchased at the Little House on the Prairie gift shop.  Not to mention Jack’s suit, a boosted Elton John + Liberace collabo.  After he was done with the honey-dripping, he proceeded to casually shred the audience’s collective face off, with some more classic Jack-rock in the form of “Freedom at 21.”  The custodial crew is still cleaning brain matter off of the drapes.

Jack thrashed so hard he opened the Stargate.

The only thing more electric than Jack’s guitar was Carrie Underwood’s psychedelic dress.  Unanimously voted Best Dressed by “stoned people in red states,” the gown acted as a screen for two projectors mounted in the theater, which flashed images of butterflies and celestial landscapes.  Had Kelly Clarkson been on mushrooms instead of just booze, we could have witnessed the first ever Grammy dress-licking incident.  So close.

Get me out of this fabric heat sink!!

….and then it was time for the boring guy.  But apparently someone got a clue this year and injected life into his cookie cutter speech, sending along the ever-youthful Ryan Seacrest, who was named the Honorary Chair of the Grammy Foundation Board.  W-hat?  the hell does that even mean?  Will I be hearing more from or about this guy?  Please. God. No.

Then, to collect the attention of tweens who haven’t even been alive long enough to know who Ryan Seacrest is, the “Foundation” sent out Justin Timberlake to flop his bowtie around some more and make balloon animals until #grammy had reached one million tweets.  Most of these were, “who r the totes old dudes w/ JT?! LOL.  dinosaurs r funny #grammy”

B-O-R-I-N-G

The perennially sincere, yet emotional low point, is the “In Memoriam” segment which notes the great talents that the music industry lost in the previous year.  While it is always sad, especially in recent years when artists more relevant to my life have passed (e.g. Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston), none had ever really struck an emotional chord until this year.  When a video clip of Adam Yauch (aka. MCA) flashed across the entire screen it was like somebody punched me in the stomach.  Daaaaaaaamnit.  Fuck you cancer.

Luckily, the Grammys didn’t close on a sad note, but rather a fitting tribute to the likes of MCA, as LL Cool J transformed from host to rapper for the closing performance.  Joined by Travis Barker (f*ck that kid can drum), Tom Morello (still kinda raging against something), DJ Z-Trip (huh?), and Chuck D, LL proved that 30 years after dropping Radio, he can still rock a stage and he still has some street cred…which is more than I can say about Ice Cube.

It takes a nation of millions to prevent another sequel

Throughout the night there were a few MVPs and MVMoments that are also worth mentioning:

Frank Ocean is everything that is right about music; honest, open, and soulful.  Add “brave” to the mix for casting the brightest light on his own personal life.  It’s people like him that will keep all of us moving forward towards equality….and with a great soundtrack for progress.

Dan Auerbach is nipping at Jack White’s heels as far as all-around talent.  His Akron-born work ethic has endured years of steadily moving towards music’s inner circle, and these days he is damn-near the center of the universe.  He (and Patrick) are finally experiencing The Big Come Up.  Bravo.

Jay-Z makes the list for his one-line contribution to the acceptance speech for the “Best Rap/Sung Collaboration” (“No Church in the Wild”).  After The Dream finished thanking family, Jay sarcastically thanked the swap meet for The Dream’s hat.  Would you expect anything less from a man who rapped about trading in his gangsta apparel for “a crisp pair of jeans, ni**a button ups?”  Jay-Z, fresh til death.

Damian Marley’s dreads.  ‘Nuf said.

Taylor Swift is not my favorite musician, but she seems to have a lot of fun doing what she does.  Her Grammy MVP is for singing and dancing along with every performance that night.  Maybe it’s not shocking that a young-ish girl would love to sing and dance, but considering some of the uptight *-holes that attend the Grammys, it’s nice to see someone who has fun and supports her fellow artists.

Ok, that probably took 3.5 hours to read, so I didn’t save you any time, did I?  But you did get to waste time reading it at work.  Am I right?  Score!

Now go lord over the water cooler and not talk about this like a real pro, you numb-handed sicko.

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