Gimmie a Grammy

Just watched them, courtesy of the DVR. The Grammy Awards have lost much relevance. They were not too relevant to begin with. Getting a Grammy has meant a potential boost in sales, so for this reason music business insiders and major labels have always chased them. But Grammys have so often been given to hitmakers, much of the sales already in the bank, that the pat they receive on the back in the form of an award is often an afterthought. In the 21st Century, the Grammys have become all about big performances. This year’s partial checklist: Pink doing circus acrobatics while lip-singing, mixing up the genres with rappers and rockers, old school country chugging along with the young bloods, a pianist tickling the ivory while Metallica amps the guitars, and reuniting the old-old school, Paul and Ringo (while Yoko in the front row sways along!). Somewhere buried in the pre-awards and during commercial breaks, longtime music makers and groundbreaking producers unsung in radio land get a nod or two. The spotlight usually favors the flavors of the year. The buzz and the record sales are what matter. With increasingly gimmicky showcases every year, it'll get tougher to out-showcase the previous year's showcasers. Old school music scribes like me will continue to bitch about the Grammys, and still watch them. The contemporary advantages are the wonderful DVRs. Before one had to suffer through the whole show to catch a couple of intriguing performances. Now, just hit the forward button and get to the good parts. The awards themselves have essentially become glorified paper weights, or as Jay-Z told his young daughter while holding up his award, "Daddy's got a gold sippy cup for you." Indeed.