Post-Mortem on the Grammys

My MuzikReviews.com colleagues have already offered their take on this year's Grammy ceremonies (here and here), so I suppose it's about time for me to chime in.

A part of me - the obsessed, starving musician part - is somewhat sympathetic: the recording industry is a freak show by its very nature, attracting some of the flakiest portions of the arts world (I mean, hypothetically, you could have had Tiny Tim, Grace Jones, Klaus Nomi, and Boy George all sitting next to each other in some past ceremony.) Thus the gathering is inevitably up-and-down and bipolar, from Radiohead's inspired performance with a marching band to the utter nonsense of a very-pregnant M.I.A. gyrating across the stage in a see-through outfit.

That, however, is what I'd like to think of as the mashed potatoes, not the meat. The latter of that tired metaphor is the awards themselves, which is where I have the most problems. The Grammys have become utterly predictable: if not making political statements (last year's Dixie Chicks sweep) they go with old favorites (Allison Krauss and Robert Plant) or semi-new favorites that may or may not be plagiarists (Coldplay.) The Foo Fighters' nomination chances have become a running joke: if they have an album out, they'd inevitably be awarded in some kind of rock category - not that they don't deserve it, mind you, but the Academy knows little else of today's talent. Nominees are either still-active golden oldies - Sting, McCartney, etc. - or commercially-successful, oversaturated megastars like Amy Winehouse.

In other words, the Grammys seem to know little of the actual world with which they shower their accolades. The nominations highlight a razor-thin section of the music industry - one that increasingly exists as the top of the sales charts. In a time when many are criticizing the Oscars for ignoring popular fare (The Dark Knight, most famously), the Grammys have ran in the opposite direction, with Radiohead being the only real daring choice (given its independently-released, pay-if-you-like campaign with In Rainbows.)

If that trend continues, the Grammys will lose any critical merit it has left. So just forget the early buzz on Andrew Bird's Noble Beast or Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion; come 2010, both groups will be shut out in favor of Katie Perry and the Jonas Brothers.

Ditto on Radiohead, Chris

I couldn't have expressed it better than my colleague Chris Homer in regards to Radiohead (see his article here.) Over the years I have gone from loving the band, to hating it, to ambivalence, and then back again (I've had a similar fling with Bloc Party.) At some point, it seems like all prissy art-rock bands opt for this kind of ambivalent stance. The one solace here is that, on one level, Radiohead deserves to be hypocritically snobbish, at least considering what they've accomplished. But damn if it isn't still annoying.

Why Even Try? The Best Album of 2009 is Already Here

I'm prepared to make a fool of myself and put a big, fat ol' "Best Ever" stamp - this early in the year, no less - on Animal Collective's new album Merriweather Post Pavilion (2009, Domino.) Now I'll admit, I'm a sucker for beat-driven experimental ambience (which is exactly what Pavilion is), but after my ears ran red from oft-repeated sessions of listening to track "My Girls," I swore that I was hearing the future of Indie music as we know it.

I could have been delirious from blood loss, of course, but Pavilion is a singular beast: lo-fi, harsh-edged, and as hypnotic as Phillip Glass on crack. It is, in a way, the fulfilled promise of Animal Collective's earlier forays into strange, freeform pop music ("Fireworks" comes to mind, as well as Panda Bear's "Comfy in Nautica," both of which are on The List.) This is the kind of fare that can be produced at home, on a bedroom computer, by a college student, while eating a Pop-Tart...in his skivvies.

But the accessibility is deliciously ironic, a case of out-foxing popular radio singles at their own game. In other words, simple music (with no more than a few components), produced cheaply, and shared with an unwitting global audience. The vocals are average, the technology is hardly cutting-edge, and the subject matter (such as wanting for the simple life in "My Girls") won't elicit discussion. Yet somehow, by some non-denominational miracle or just plain luck, it all comes together wonderfully.

Animal Collective has, in a sense, reinvented the wheel without even realizing it, committing acts of accidental genius in the studio. It's akin to inventing a time machine while trying to fix the toilet. Of course, there's always the possibility that the excellence of Pavilion was intentional, but I'm not going to even entertain that, lest my head explode.

Modern Rock's Warm Blanket

Time to discuss an epiphany: I recently had the opportunity to review The Fashion for MuzikReviews.com, a Danish band who thrive on dangerous vibes. By "dangerous," I don't mean the laughable antics of acts like the Insane Clown Posse. Rather, it's a penchant for entertaining listeners with frenetic lunacy; think Gene Wilder's psychopathic singing on the boat ride in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The Fashion's recent self-titled debauchery has been the cumulative "cherry on top" for a whole line of similarly dangerous (albeit below-the-radar) 2008 releases: 31Knots' Worried Well (you can read that review here), Department of Eagles' In Ear Park (ditto here), and the wonderfully black aura of Hairspray Blues' Sick Little Package (again, here.) Each boils and bristles with a kind of painful sonic voltage - the musical equivalent of a joyful electric chair.

So what's that have to do with the realization I mentioned earlier? Just this: that when compared to these four releases, the rest of modern rock's 2008 slate is painfully limpwristed. It's the result of a long process, sadly: having long been sapped of its original swagger, popular rock n' roll has finally reached the end of its over-nursed, watered-down ale. Grunge and alternative were forefathers to such - in turns disparaged and whiny, they inevitably led to angst-ridden doldrum music. That would be the kind of emo-screamo pop now espoused by acts like Fall Out Boy (for an excellent addendum to that, read Chris Homer's recent post.) It's a formulaic, safe, processed, packaged, vitamin-injected non-genre, whose ideal band would be some kind of cross between The Killers and the Jonas Brothers.

It's a wonder if any of these kids have seen the wrinkled footage of Chuck Berry singing "Johnny B. Goode," sweating and glaring and strutting like a madman to a nervous audience (knock yourself out here - but beware Keith Richards.) Or maybe even the frantic, zipped-up lunacy of Jerry Lee Lewis' possessed piano skills. Or, likewise, the tales of murder, execution, judgment and damnation that permeate Johnny Cash's music. These men make today's rock look tame in comparison, their rightful heirs flying far under the radar.

COLDPLAY AND THE COLD SHOULDER

It seems every modern-day rock band is in a rush to scale Mount Hubris, and Coldplay is no different. Initially a fan of the group early in the millennium, my patience with the "Yellow" boys ran thin soon after they began their political posturing and huffy-puffy artsy antics (no two things could make a rock outfit look sillier.) Basically, they managed to out-Radiohead Radiohead. So now you know where I'm coming from, at least: a once avid fan turned jaded disappointee, whose eardrums have been beaten silly by the overplaying of "Clocks" and other goosey star-gazing anthems.

With my bias recognized, on to the point: the news of Joe Satriani's lawsuit regarding Coldplay's 2008 hit "Viva La Vida" ripping off his 2005 tune "If I Could Fly" is now old (but, granted, no less concerning.) Usually, I consider music lawsuits with a grain of salt - as any musician will tell you, there are only so many chords, riffs, and rhythms one can write before things start sounding alike. However, after doing some trendy Internet research, it seems the similarity of the two tunes is likely more than just a coincidence (you can see and hear some eye-and-ear-opening examples here and here.)

So it begs the question: why, in the light of such alleged plagiarism, did the Academy reward Coldplay with countless Grammy nominations? I can think of a dozen reasons (besides the fact that the organization loves playing it safe with established acts), but none of them would retroactively wash away that ol' proverbial egg-on-the-face should Coldplay be caught guilty of stealing after sweeping up a bunch of shiny awards.

I'm not naive - copying success is nothing new in the music industry. But there's a reason the whole traditional model is dying, and I think it has something to do with the ridiculousness of rock posturing. Propped up in his new slashed-n'-sewn military jacket with concept album in hand, Chris Martin and Coldplay will try to convince us that their music is some sort of microcosm for the modern day world...and man's plight...and human suffering...and American politics...and on and on ad nauseam. Never mind that those same topics have been rendered boring by rockstars for years (thank you, Bono), but they'll be made all the more silly if Martin and company are indeed found guilty of ripping Satriani off (and echoes of the same from Creaky Boards.)

Though the Academy removed principal and merit from their award process long ago, they could have at least tempered their enthusiasm for Coldplay in an effort to save face.

DEAD OPERA VS. THE GRAMMY'S

Well, it goes without saying that I'm not batting well in regards to my award picks versus the Academy's (see previous post here.) Though Radiohead's In Rainbows picked up an Album of the Year nom, the rest of my partial-to's were flat-out snubbed. Am I surprised? Of course! Doesn't what I say have any weight at all? Jeeze.

In any case, let's see how my picks fared among the other categories:

- Kenna's "Say Goodbye to Love" in Best Urban/Alternative Performance

- King of Leon's "Sex on Fire" in Best Rock Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocals as well as Best Rock Song

- King of Leon's Only By the Night in Best Rock Album

Yup...that's it. (Well, not exactly. Radiohead did rack up a bunch of other minor nominations - you can see the full list here.) Arguably the biggest snubs were Fleet Foxes's self-titled debut and TV On The Radio's Dear Science, both of which received less nominations (combined) than Lil' Wayne. Or the Jonas Brothers. Or Kid Rock. Or even Dragonforce!

Honestly, I feel like I'm floating in the middle of a gigantic ocean on a coffee-table sized ice cap - a quirky way of saying "out of touch." Or perhaps it's the Academy that's out of touch, which I heartily suspected last year when the Dixie Chicks steamrolled every category to the detriment of more creative acts (like Gnarls Barkley.) Ah, well...now I await the angry legion of Dragonforce-related e-mails.

...AND AN ADDENUM TO MYSELF

(And I promise to stop using the word "addendum.")

I've gotten two major questions regarding my "Albums of the Year" picks. Let's waste no time:

1. Kenna's Make Sure They See My Face came out in 2007, not in 2008, you dolt!

I'll conceded that technicality; however, the general critical snubbing of that album deserves a consideration for 2008. And because Dead Opera didn't exist in 2007, I altered the space-time continuum to allow for it this year. (Don't ask how, it involved quite a bit of politicking and back-scratching.) So consider it my double-barreled, middle-finger salute to all those music journalists slobbering over Vampire Weekend's hype-fest.

2. Where's TV On The Radio's Dear Science? This is an outrage!

While one of the better albums this year, Dear Science's snub was due purely to numbers. TVOTR (God, I hate acronyms) is a promising band that, for the present time, has seemed to deliver on that promise (the same can't be said for once-hopeful Interpol, whom I pick on incessantly.) In any case, Dear Science isn't their best album (though it's hard to top something like 2006's Return To Cookie Mountain), and so I felt it dishonest to include it simply because TVOTR is such an amazing act. One day I'll regret all this, I'm sure, and give them some kind of retroactive reward for all their stellar work (cue the Scorsese-finally-gets-Oscar-for-subpar-The-Departed jokes.)