By DEBORAH SPRAGUE
The folks behind the Grammy Awards like nothing better than a good, well-scripted story – and that’s exactly what the universe (helped along by the ever-predictable NARAS voters) delivered this past weekend. After several years of disjointed storylines – old standbys getting props, young turks performing and waiting for their shot at the gold – the fates converged and delivered a perfect storm of commercial success and unassailable artisanship.
And they called her Adele. And it was good.
Halfway through 2011, it was evident that the Brit singer’s second album, 21, was something special. You loved it. I loved it. Our moms loved it. Andy Rooney probably had it on his I-Tunes. The stage was set for Grammy domination, even before the specter of career-ending throat problems emerged from the shadows late in the year – giving the Grammy folks a chance to ponder her career mortality and offer a reward, either for a job (admittedly) remarkably well done, or as a parting gift.
By the time nominations were in, and it became clear that Adele stood a good chance of pulling off a sweep of epic proportions, it was equally clear that she’d dodged a bullet in terms of her health. Still, the viewing public was prepped to sit back and celebrate a six-for-six night on the part of the charming Cockney chick with the big voice – the script that stayed in place until 24 hours before showtime.
And then all hell broke loose.
Once an indispensable stitch in the fabric of Grammy weekend, from her double-digit wins through her presence at Clive Davis’s pre-awards hoedown, in the last few years, she’d become something of an afterthought. That all changed on Saturday afternoon, when Whitney’s sudden death prompted a rethink of the broadcast – ultimately retrofitted with a beautiful, poignant tribute keyed by one of Houston’s most high-profile acolytes, Jennifer Hudson – but not the party thrown by her mentor, which went on while her body went unclaimed a mere hundreds of feet away.
As for the broadcast itself? There was a sense that both Whitney and Adele loomed large. From host LL Cool J’s off-script prayer for the former – one of the most guilelessly moving moments in recent Grammy memory – to the happily-resolved ‘will she or won’t she?’ comeback performance by the win machine, the overall feeling was one of rooting for, rather than against, the big name.
And the big names delivered again and again throughout the show. Springsteen, with that powerful show-opening reprise of his everyman persona, Bruno Mars, with his glam-soul revue – replete with matching suits and vintage Motown choreography – just about all the big gestures seemed to connect.
There were exceptions, of course. Unrepentant domestic abuser Chris Brown’s mimicking of the old-school video game character Q Bert couldn’t distract viewers from his inability to lip-sync along with the backing tracks of whoever he hired to record the vocals for his latest sides, nor the repetitive nature of his sub-June Taylor dance moves. Brown’s one-time victim, Rihanna, didn’t fare much better. Note to RiRi: wig changes worked well as a focal point for Amadeus, not so much in a “live” performance at an awards show.
The spotlight on fakery – sweetened vocals, outright miming and so on – was most palpable when it was turned off altogether. The Foo Fighters delivered a stirring take on “Walk” – but then squandered the momentum by cozying up to Brown later in the show, while The Band Perry threatened to turn on the collective waterworks with their opening segment of a tribute to Glen Campbell, whose Alzheimer’s-induced farewell merited more attention that it received. (Campbell’s own goodbye performance of “Rhinestone Cowboy” opened the floodgates once and for all).
The older crowd got a lot more airtime than usual this year, thanks to the surfeit of tributes (Bonnie Raitt and Alicia Keys paying homage to the late Etta James) and a curious sense of obligation (two separate turns for Sir Paul McCartney). Admittedly, the momentum slowed a bit during these segments – the key demo is something like a half-century younger, after all – but the collective IQ boost was welcome.
As usual, the telecast was thrown off course by the self-serving rantings of NARAS head Neil Portnow, who opted to use his time on Sunday to inform us that the internet is evil – sounding like a cross between Abe Simpson and that redneck dad who blasted his daughter’s laptop with a shotgun in an effort to get her to eschew technology. But even he couldn’t dampen the mood.
No wardrobe malfunctions, no real need for a seven-second delay and no excess bare flesh – even Nicki Minaj kept her pants on while offending a fifth of the earth’s population with her art-damaged “blasphemy” – made for a decidedly non-envelope-pushing show, but one that tickled the pleasure center nevertheless.
By KARA SPRAGUE
What if they gave an Awards show and nobody gave an award?
That's almost what the 2012 Grammy Awards came to.
The broadcast lasted around 3 1/2 hours when, they really could have finished if off in about 10 minutes.
Hand Adele her trophies and give the Foo Fighters theirs. Dole out a couple others. Easy-peasy.
The Grammys have definitely been streamlined. Numerous categories were eliminated (snubbing genres like the blues) while others were shunted to the non-televised hinterlands.
Then there was the bizarre treatment of rock. A number of rock awards were in that non-broadcast portion, yet there was more than a little of it during the televised broadcast.
Rap was an even more non-existent presence.
But without a great deal of suspense for the awards themselves, the only real questions would be how the performances themselves would be.
The first question was how producers would respond to yesterday's tragic death of Whitney Houston.
Without much turnaround time, the television broadcast began just over 26 hours after Houston's death, the tribute was kept simple.
Host LL Cool J, when he came out, began the show with a prayer, keeping it brief and too the point. A nice classy gesture.
Every major awards show has its "those who have passed away" in the previous year. Houston's face was the last one shown in this year's montage.
That segued to Jennifer Hudson, who delivered a performance that was the antithesis of Christina Aguilera's performance at Etta James' recent funeral. No inappropriate clothing. No oversinging. Just pure class.
Hudson nailed "I Will Always Love You" striking a balance between Dolly Parton's classic original approach and Houston's beloved full-on version. It was one of the takeaway moments of the night.
The night's other tear-jerking takeaway moment came earlier with a tribute segment to a performer who is not gone yet.
Glen Campbell, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, released the final album of his career last year, with an accompanying farewell tour. The diagnosis cut short what was an interesting artistic resurgence for Campbell, who was putting out good releases not unlike what Johnny Cash was doing with the "American" albums.
The Band Perry kicked off the tribute with a solid version of "Gentle On My Mind." Blake Shelton followed with a slightly tentative, but ultimately agreeable take on "Southern Nights."
The man himself followed to sing the obvious song one would expect him to sing for his last major national performance -- "Rhinestone Cowboy." Any doubts about how Campbell might pull it off in his condition were erased. He nailed it, ending by singing "Rhinestone cowboy and cowgirl" as the audience gave him a deserved standing ovation in the most poignant moment of the night.
Another successful tribute came was delivered by Alicia Keys and Bonnie Raitt, who teamed up to perform Etta James' classic "Sunday Kind of Love," showing a canny move away from the obvious of covering "At Last."
The moving tributes were the takeaway moments from the broadcast on the positive side of the ledger.
The negative side was led by the dual appearances by Chris Brown, who won the Best R&B album for F.A.M.E. It was the first appearance at the awards for Breezy since he assaulted then-girlfriend Rihanna the night before the two were scheduled to perform together at the 2009 Grammys.
Seeing Brown applauded after performance of his new single "Turn Up The Music" primarily evoked nausea, given the amount of apologists he's had since the incident and given that he's been prone to homophobic asshattery.
Honestly, the performance itself was enough to disturb the stomach. He danced around a set stolen from a Q-Bert game while dressed in a letterman's jacket. He couldn't be bothered to actually sing, as his vocals were pre-recorded and autotuned. He can dance, but when did "best dancer" become a Grammy category?
One wonders if anyone noticed the irony that Brown lip-synching an autotuned track and won an award from the same organization that took away an award from Milli Vanilli for lip syncing.
As if his solo performance wasn't bad enough, he reappeared later, dressed like Run-DMC circa 1985, during a mini-dance music set with David Guetta, Deadmau5 and Foo Fighters. Dressing like a beloved hip-hop icon in an effort to distract folks from the fact that a number of people intensely dislike you? Talk about tricky.
Much more watchable, though more befuddling, was Nicki Minaj's performance of "Roman Holiday." It hearkened back to the days of "MTV World Premiers" when you'd sit down for a 10-minute long "director's cut" with three minutes of song and seven of acting, special effects and other filler.
Pre-taped sketch with a Pope-ish guy? Check. Robed choir? Check. Levitation? Check. Dancing and flames calling to mind the fictional Broadway show "Satan's Alley" from the movie "Staying Alive"? Check. Fake British accent lifted from Billie Jo Armstrong? Actual song? Actual Song? Actual so-oh, there it is. Check.
Still, Minaj is an entertaining, engaging performer and she at least made the bloated silliness (in the "Gaga Slot") watchable.
Minaj didn't leave with the Best New Artist trophy, which went to honorary yacht rockers Bon Iver, who were neither best nor new.
The Grammys circa 2012 were also a time to promote new singles. Brown and Minaj did it. So did Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band opened the broadcast with "We Take Care of Our Own," the track that wouldn't have sounded out of place on "Born In the U.S.A.". It also injected a rare bit of topicality into the proceedings.
Paul McCartney performed "My Valentine", one of two standards-style songs he wrote for his new album "Kisses on the Bottom", which is in the tradition of, well, Rod Stewart's continuous flogging of "The American Songbook."
McCartney, in better voice than he was on "Saturday Night Live" a year ago, fared better when he closed the show with energetic performances of his songs from the medley on side two of "Abbey Road", complete with a guitar jam including the likes of Springsteen, Joe Walsh and Dave Grohl.
The only thing missing as the cherry on top of this little classic rock sundae would have been if Adele had shown up at the end to sing "Her Majesty."
Not that Adele wasn't on camera enough as it was. It was her night, as she pulled off a 6-for-6 sweep in the categories she was nominated in. She also pulled off her ubiquitous hit "Rolling in the Deep," her first time time performing since throat surgery. Even if her voice wasn't at 100 percent peak, it and the song, were well enough to justify the plaudits and sales.
The Beach Boys made an appearance as well, though it was not the "historic reunion" the broadcast teasers claimed it was, not with Carl and Dennis Wilson having passed away in 1998 and 1983, respectively.
Maroon 5 opened the mini-set with "Surfer Girl", showing that for all of Adam Levine's skills, he's not Carl Wilson. Foster the People pulled off the look of the Beach Boys circa 1964-65 and picked things up with their take on "Wouldn't It Be Nice?"
The Beach Boys themselves did "Good Vibrations." With Carl gone, Brian Wilson took the high part with aplomb. He fared better than Mike Love, who moved like an animatronic robot version of Mike Love in some sort of Disney Hall of Beach Boys.
Still going far beyond the "step into the unknown origins", the Foo Fighters, while hardly the only purveyors of "real rock" left, continue to be one of its rock solid proponents.
The band solidly performed "Walk", the best track of its Grammy-winning "Wasting Light" album. The Foos, despite their best efforts, didn't click quite so well in the dance-electronic section, a segment that felt undercooked.
It was also a wee bit ironic that Grohl and Co. were in the dance-electronic mini set considering his acceptance speech (for "Walk" as best rock performance). Grohl said, " "It's not about being perfect, it's not about sounding absolutely correct, it's not about what goes on in a computer; it's about what goes on in here (heart) and it's about what goes on in here (head)."
In the Nice Timing Department, Grohl's passioned speech, the best of the night, was cut off..with the song playing coming from LMFAO, who sound imperfect and incorrect despite going through the computer.
Rihanna's performance on her own was reasonable enough, but when Coldplay joined her for "Princess of China", the overall effect was underwhelming to sleep-inducing, especially with the earnest Brits not at their best.
At least the producers kept the appearances of Rihanna and Brown spaced far enough apart to keep things from being more awkward.
On the other hand, it can't be a coincidence that a song by self-selling success story Civil Wars was all that separated Brown's Grammy acceptance speech from Taylor Swift performance of the song "Mean", which has the recurring lines, "Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean."
Elsewhere through the show, there was Bruno Mars (energetic and trying to bring back the 'bands in matching suits' look), Katy Perry (apparently previewing her halftime show for Super Bowl VXX) and Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean doing "Don't You Wanna Stay" (with best 'Idol' alum Clarkson carrying the day when Aldean's mic cut out).
Also worth noting was Stevie Wonder's appearance to introduce McCartney, though it only served as a reminder that it has been far too long since Wonder's prodigious and once-prolific musical gifts have born fruit in terms of new material.
On the non-musical front, there was a pointless appearance from NCIS actress Pauley Perrette and New York Giants players Mario Manningham and Victor Cruz to present an award. Perrette's appearance was to remind us that the Grammys were on CBS, apparently while Manningham and Cruz, although they might be able to just autotune their way through it, have not, for know, shown a desire to join the music biz.
Speaking of the music biz, the one moment where more viewers were likely to nod off like they'd just eaten tryptophan-laden Thanksgiving dinner was the speech by NARAS president Neil Portnow. It was an odd mix of seeming lifts from United Way PSAs and finger wagging in which Portnow unintentionally came off like Mr. Mackey from "South Park," all but saying "The Internet is bad. Mmmkay?"
But for an awards show known for its misfires (such as unintentionally turning Jethro Tull into a punchline) and years of being notoriously out-of-touch, the Grammys Circa 2012 managed not to embarrass themselves.
The good performances outnumbered the missteps, even with the whiff of calculation ii Brown on twice, Swift's song after Brown, the Foo's appearance at a dancefest. It might have been quease-inducing to see so much Brown. It might have been a challenge to figure out the bombastic inscrutability of Nicki Minaj's performance, but at the end of the day, this was the night for Adele and the tributes that the various performers got right, particularly for Houston, Campbell and James.
By Kara Sprague
11 Number Ones on the Billboard Chart, including seven in a row at one point.
12 more songs in the Top Ten.
48, 3:55 p.m. Central Time.
Those last numbers, sadly, are the ones that stick out tonight.
Whitney Houston, seemingly omnipresent on the charts for years, was found dead in her room at the Beverly Hilton today (Saturday, February 11).
Details are scant at this point, so it's unknown as to what the actual cause of death was.
Just listen to any one of those classic singles -- "Saving All My Love For You", "The Greatest Love of All", "I Wanna Dance With Somebody", "I Will Always Love You"....any of them. And the voice is THE thing that stands out.
Total command of multiple octaves. Seemingly total assurance at a young age. She wasn't even 22 when her first big chart hit -- 1984's "You Give Good Love" was released.
But sadly, what also stands out is that today's tragic news is not the surprise it should be when someone so famous passes away at so young an age.
Houston's last Top 10 single was her version of the "Star Spangled Banner" from the Super Bowl 11 years ago, with no Top 40 singles since as her personal life took center stage and her music faded into the background.
A generation ago, it was easier for a celebrity to have their personal lives kept somewhat out of the public eye.
Then the tabloids became more popular, to point where more traditional news outlets copied them. It got to the point where the line between "tabloid" and "traditional" weren't blurred so much as left obliterated entirely. Then came "reality" shows which allowed some celebrities to basically become their own tabloid reporters.
Houston's marriage to Bobby Brown, already tabloid fodder, was laid out for public display on a televised reality show on Bravo back in 2005.
The show lasted one season, but between moments on that show and the other tabloid reports of marriage woes and substance abuse, Houston became less famous for that golden voice and more for being something of a public trainwreck.
Those classic songs would still come up on the radio, but there was the poorly received tour (complete with reports that the once-golden voice was in rough shape), the odd "crack is wack" denial to Diane Sawyer.
Sadly, at some point, Houston had turned from guaranteed hitmaker to guaranteed punchline.
Substance abuse casualties are nothing new to the business. Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin all dead at 27. Judy Garland, like Houston, gone at 48.
It's unknown at this writing whether substance abuse played a part, directly or indirectly, in Houston's death. But seeing so many casualties before and given her history, it's the easy path to wonder if it did.
it's impossible to be as shocked to the same degree that one was when John Lennon was gunned down in cold blood or Buddy Holly perished in a plane crash. It doesn't mean that one can't be shocked and saddened. One would have to be made of stone not to be moved by this loss, one that took away Cissy's daughter and Bobbi's mother.
Compounding the tragedy is that Houston sought treatment for her addictions last year. Reports were more positive about her. She was set to star in a remake of the '70s cult film "Sparkle."
Whatever the specific nature of her addictions was, she was apparently fighting them and working to stay clean.
But unlike so many inspirational stories on celluloid, Houston didn't get the third act happy ending. She didn't get the triumphant comeback with the strong voice.
And that's what makes today so painful. Not only are fans mourning what they know they lost, but they are also mourning what could have been, both in the last decade and the decades worth of quality music.
Just as with Amy Winehouse in 2011 and Michael Jackson in 2009, the mourning is mixed with the hope that somehow, someone else will avoid those pitfalls, so that we aren't lamenting another loss.
But while Houston is gone, there will always be the songs and that voice.
And that is the No. 1 thing to remember about her.
By KARA SPRAGUE
One day, historical scholars will divide America's cultural timeline into two categories -- pre-M.I.A flipping the bird at the 2012 Super Bowl halftime and post-M.I.A bird flip.
Apologies came quickly for the gesture, which came from one of the four guest stars during Madonna's halftime show.
She joined soul singer/"The Voice" coach Cee-Lo Green, the inexplicably popular LMFAO (without their onstage guy who looks like A.W.E.S.O.M-O) and guest star du jour Nicki Minaj, who's seemingly been asked to appear everywhere short of dropping a verse or two on a Rod Stewart "American Songbook" track.
During M.I.A's turn, she, in a blink-and-you-missed-it moment, flashed a middle finger as she lip-synced the suitably censored line "don't give a sh--."
Not everybody blinked and missed it, of course.
That wasn't going to happen since 2004, the year of Janet Jackson's infamous "wardrobe malfunction" that briefly revealed her nipple.
That glimpse of nipple caused a number of people to lose their minds. They reacted as if Jackson and Justin Timberlake had re-enacted Caligula onstage, complete with the horse.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, complete with cries of "What will we tell the children?"
These folks reacted as if it was the downfall of civilization as we know it, that it would result in national disasters like volcanic eruptions destroying Seattle and Portland, earthquakes sliding Los Angeles into the ocean and Rick Santorum winning Republican Primaries.
Since Nipplegate, the National Football League reacted by booking older, more "reliable" acts for its Super Bowl halftimes. If you didn't have an album out, you need not apply (until 2011's appearance by the Black-Eyed Peas).
The results ranged from solidly entertaining (Prince and Bruce Springsteen), to somewhat sad (what was left of The Who) and outright painful (the aforementioned BEP, where Fergie's attempts to imitate Axl Rose's voice made it sound as if she was choking on a deli pickle.
The "Must Have an Album in the '70s" rule was waived again for Madonna, whose first album was released in 1983.
Booking Madonna was no surprise. She was hugely influential on decades of pop stars who've come along since. Not coincidentally, she has new album, "MDNA" due out in March.
The results would have been fairly unremarkable if not for the briefly-extended middle digit from M.I.A., who uncoincidentally has a new album of her own due out this summer.
Madonna had to weigh in on Birdgate.
She called Ryan Seacrest's radio show Friday and said she was not happy about it.
"I understand it's punk rock and everything, but to me, there was such a feeling of love and good energy, and positivity, it seemed negative," Madonna said. "It's one of those things. It's such a teenager irrelevant thing to do...there was such a feeling of love and unity there. What was the point? It was just out of place
I'm sure M.I.A. was crushed that the woman who gave us the "Sex" book, complete with softcore porn and the faux-lesbian kiss with Britney Spears at the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards considered her middle finger to be "negative", "teenager" and "irrelevant."
And what of Madonna's halftime show itself?
To start with, the NFL, in an effort to keep control and limit the chances of spontaneity or actual excitement, likely wanted the vocals pre-recorded.
The result is that by having Madonna lip-sync, they basically turned her into one of her own female impersonators.
Starting with an entrance that was Lady Gaga-esque, or perhaps Madonna's interpretation of Gaga's interpretation of Madonna, the performer appeared in a Gladiator-themed costume.
In one enjoyable bit of what passed for subversiveness, Madonna (whose name was seemingly changed to "Gay Icon Madonna" at one point) opened her set with "Vogue."
The song's origins in gay subculture, accented with handsome male dancers and circus performers, was a nice little tweak at the uber-hetero Super Bowl festivities.
The rest of the performance featured plenty of spectacle and those aforementioned guest stars. But since it was pre-recorded, the net result was that flash and substance briefly duked it out before substance tapped out.
All the dazzling choreography in the world couldn't mask the the artificial nature of lip-synching to vocals, especially those "enhanced" with studio trickery anyway.
Aside from the controversy briefly lasting through a news cycle over an extended middle finger, the NFL got pretty much what it wanted -- safe flash, all hat/no cattle.
Make no mistake, the NFL is all about image these days.
The league has been enacting rules changes, enough of them that the National Football League will contain as much football as Bacos contains bacon. Just slap an asterisk on the NFL, noting that it's "artificially football flavored." Or change the name to the National Flag Football League, complete with the marketing slogan, "As Watchable As the Pro Bowl."
Life will go on for the artists involved.
Cee-Lo is on a hit TV show and no doubt has more hits of his own on the horizon.
LMFAO will keep working to stave off the running down of its 15 minutes of fame. The future fate of their A.W.E.S.O.M-O, modern pop's version of Bez, remains unclear.
Madonna will release "MDNA" and tour, charging top dollar unapologetically. Her icon status remains.
M.I.A.'s album will come out as well and we'll see if she has another "Paper Planes" or "Galang" in her.
The rest of us can go back to our lives until next year's Super Bowl halftime where things will be normal. That's unless Drake drops trou during a Hall and Oates lip sync medley.
If that happens, I'll be glad I didn't buy land in Los Angeles.
