I've been boycotting the Grammys since the album of the year award went to Steely Dan's vapid Two Against Nature instead of The Marshall Mathers LP, arguably one of the greatest albums released in the 2000's. But after Prince's performance in the Super Bowl--the highlight of the game here in Ursine Nation--I was ready for another dose of geezer rock in the form of the Police's rendition of "Roxanne." I remember how bracingly new the song sounded when it first appeared, how much it contrasted with the power ballads that dominated Chicago radio at the time. This time Sting demurred from attempting the high notes in the chorus, and mild scandalousness of the song is now lost to nostalgia, but the Police still sounded pretty good. Who knew tantric yoga was the key to rock and roll longevity? Remember Sly Stone's performance last year? In his weird way he recaptured some of the mystique major rock stars used to have in the 1970's. In the days before MTV and 360 degree celebrity coverage, moving images of rock stars were rare. You heard them all the time, but you rarely saw them. Film clips of performances by the Who or Led Zeppelin had a furtive aura about them. Even a Rolling Stones appearance on TV was an event. Contrast that with the tiresome Shakira, who could be the subject of her own cable channel. Maybe that's why indy rock persists as a cultural force long after it ceased to be a source of musical innovation: it's hard to find music acts that aren't overexposed, that aren't just another node in the celebrity culture.
For quite some time now the Grammys have been two or three years behind the rest of the culture. After getting slammed by American Idol last year, this year's show featured a lame and transparently desperate "My Grammy Moment" in which some non-entity gets the chance to perform with Justin Timberlake, who was probably too genial and accommodating to say no. My Grammy moment? Stevie Wonder's moving call out to his late mother, followed by Tony Bennett cheerfully giving thanks to “Target, the greatest sponsor I ever worked for in my life.” This moment seems to pretty much sum up the current state of the American music industry: isolated moments of genuine feeling co-existing with blatant obsequiousness toward its corporate masters.
And by the way, for all the honors handed out to mainstream acts like Mary J. Blige and the Dixie Chicks, the best-selling album of 2006 was the soundtrack to a Disney Channel movie, High School Musical, which sold 3.7 million copies. The best selling song in the new online music universe? Daniel Powter’s fatuous “Bad Day,” which first appeared on American Idol.
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