Awards ceremonies.
The speeches, with all their circle jerking and thanking the management for keeping you
fuelled up on prescription and non-prescription drugs.
The performances, usually pre-recorded, mimed and perfectly choreographed to coincide with
the release of your new album.
And the glamour of the red carpet upon which some people wear dresses and some people don't
and other people get excited about it and most people don't.
This year they were mostly gold and the world didn't end.
And no awards ceremony is more vaccuous and inconsequential than the Grammys.
Apart from maybe the Golden Globes.
And the Oscars.
And...
Actually, they're all ******* awful.
And this years Grammys were no exception.
A promotional event for the record industry voted for by people who work in music but
probably don't listen to very much of it.
Because that's the only way Ed Sheeran and James Blake could possibly have made the shortlist
for best newcomer, both having been around for, frankly, *******ages.
This chap won it, despite his album having been out for 18 months and being declared
one to watch by rolling stone two bloody years ago.
Vampire Weekend won best alternative album, despite being as alternative as right is to
left.
In 2013 music had two choices.
You either sounded like Vampire weekend, or you didn't sound like Vampire weekend, so
unbiquitous is their smarter than thou kitsch blazer wearing hipster vibe.
And I say this as a man who wore this ******** ensemble to work this morning.
So believe me I know.
This was essentially a category, then, for people who sound like vampire weekend.
Which means it's not especially surprising Vampire weekend won.
But then, they were up against Nine Inch Nails, and who the f*ck are they?
Never heard of them.
Surely alternative should mean not mainstream and that should mean unpopular, like gregorian
chanting.
Or the album that NASA made in the 1970s of the actual sounds that planets make.
No, really, this is Mars.
And then there were the speeches.
SOT
Oh, sorry, were you were eating?
Yeah, I just vomited into my sippy cup too.
And the usual sycophantic guff.
SOT
And then there was the just bizarre.
SOT
This is the wierdest kids story we've ever heard.
Although by things that weren't there and were frightening you mean Miley Cyrus, right?
Yeah apparently she stayed home to play computer games.
Seriously.
And then there were the plugs.
Everyone's favourite rent-a-Beatle was wheeled out alongside everyone's least favourite Beatle
to sing together ahead of a special show the next day to honour the lives of the fab four.
Which is slightly macabre considering two of the fab four haven't had much to celebrate
in their lives for some years, being too busy being dead.
And that's more or less all you need to know.
Beyonce performed drunk in love whilst looking drunk and wearing spanx, Taylor Swift struggled
to keep her hair out of her eyes, Robin Thicke looked somewhat lost without Miley Cyrus attached
to his groin and everyone went to bed not especially caring.
Join us again soon as Genius showbiz bitterly reflects on the waste of valuable broadcasting
schedule that is the Oscars or the Tonys or the Cecils or the Gav awards.
Whatever.
Oh, by the way, this can only stay up for three days before the powers that be say we
have to take it down.
Stop crying into your gold sippy cup just share it around your friends if you share
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we cover.
And by more consequential than the Grammys I mean anything up to and including a video
montage of my own morning motions.