 "Photo: anna tyrkala")
I guess I must have been too busy illegally downloading music to notice, but apparently the Grammy Awards aired Sunday night.
Oops.
Never fear, if you’re a casual music lover who, like me, also happened to miss “Music’s Biggest Night,” (and yes, I’m snickering at that title too) apparently we didn’t miss much.
If you can believe it, the total number of awards given out during this year’s telecast — a three-and-a-half hour extravaganza packed with performances galore, and no doubt bookended by several hours of pre- and post-event red carpet coverage — was … drumroll please … nine.
Yes, just nine. To cover the entire music industry.
When I heard that, I was a little shocked, but what shocked me more upon further reflection was my realization that, when it comes to awards season, the part I find least interesting is the awards.
The bottom line is that as media consumers, we’re still going to watch, listen to and (il)legally download whatever we want to, regardless of how much mantle candy the work’s artist/director/actors take home.
It’s the same thought I had after watching the Golden Globes a few weeks ago. The parade of dresses beforehand and the off-the-cuff remarks during the show — no doubt fueled by the Globes’ infamous bottomless champagne service — was far more entertaining than watching James Cameron accept an award on behalf of his N’avi friends.
Because when it comes down to it, even if Avatar does win Best Picture at the Oscars after sweeping top honors at the Globes, it won’t change my opinion that the film as a whole, though visually stunning, was predictable as hell and full of stilted, clichéd writing. The floaty jellyfish thingies were cool. But it’s a safe bet I’m not buying the DVD.
So what are awards really except bragging rights for record labels and movie studios? The majority of us will keep our usual habits well after awards season is over, renting Oscar-less Ferrell flicks and swapping viral videos of sleepy kittens, award-less though they may be.
Which is why, as a fan of media, and on absolutely no authority invested in me by either the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences or the Hollywood Foreign Press, I’m proposing radical change:
Call a spade a spade and drop the whole “awards” pretense already.
Let’s turn the Globes into a roast where the host gets toasted and celebs get loaded. Let’s turn the Oscars into a massive fashion show that preceeds a montage of the best movie moments of the past year.
And as for the Grammys? Let’s just be honest with ourselves and let them be what they essentially are — a huge-ass concert, preceded by a star-studded fashion show, in which entertainment reporters compete against each other to see how much celebrity ass they can kiss. No need to hassle with voting or dragging out the cute little statues — honestly, how much can they really matter if more than 100 of them were passed out like Skittles at an untelevised ceremony beforehand?
Throw in some classical artists with the usual pop-tart headliners, and get some dudes in skinny jeans and chains to represent eight or nine or so avant-garde rock subgenres. Book some country and rap performers to round it out, and BOOM! You’ve got yourself the most diverse, watchable night of musical performances around.
No awards necessary — it won’t change my iPod’s contents anyhow.
LeeAnn Maton is the Editor-in-Chief
lmaton@luc.edu
Be the first to comment on this article!