the metafictional blues

I can’t begin to tell you just how much hands with faces freak me out… yeah… I’m not sure where I thought I was going to go with this one…

Even though die-hard fans of alternative rock and anti-establishment types (commercial=bad and if it’s popular then i don’t like it) turn their noses up at such an orchestrated event, in my opinion, this was possibly one of the most hip Grammys to date with Beyonce and Prince taking Purple Rain to a whole new level and the entire family tree of funk getting on stage and ending their medly with the hook from “Get Low”. To the windows, to the walls… tearing the roof off this sucka… I bring you my witticisms:

I can’t help it, Jack White of the White Stripes just scares me. He’s just got that “I’m hiding something in the basement” look about him. Also… is goth back in style? Or is translucent skin the new gray of 2004? Get some sun people!!

Can someone please explain to me how Justin Timberlake wins male vocal performance over the likes of George Harrison, Sting and Warren Zevon? No… actually don’t because any explanation would include outrageous lies. Lies, I say. Warren Zevon folks… show some respect.

Separated at birth? Fountains of Gayne?

   

Hmmmmm…

warning… richard marx’s mullet has gone missing. if you see this mullet, do not approach it, but call your local authorities immediately

I’m sure I’m not the only one who found the sound/mic problem at the beginning of Celine Dion’s tribute to Luther Vandross quite amusing. I mean really, if this was time delayed, couldn’t they have just edited all that out? I can assure you that after the performance was over, Celine was yelling at the dope saying “are you picking her up?”. Or having him killed. Or eating him. She looks hungry. Have a Hot Pocket on us, Ms. Dion.

and the Grammy for the biggest biceps of the evening goes to… Madonna!

Ok… now I don’t know what the hell is going on or what Sting was smoking, but dude… did he come out in his housecoat or am I missing a new fashion trend here? Not only do I have to try to try to comprehend the collision of Sting and Sean “shake dat ting” Paul, but Sting’s wearing a dress… and long blue work socks. And probably some kind of man-slipper. Now come on… I’m tantric with the best of ‘em but this is a new one on me. Wait — I just had a flash of insight:

 

I think I’m onto something here…

I can’t really begin to say enough good things about Beyonce… I think she’s a beautiful and charismatic performer and is just, well, all that. Look at it this way… she’s like the Whitney Houston of our times… except way cooler and without all the weed and crack and stuff.

Apparently black electrical tape is also in this year for the ladies!

Honestly, I’m not really all keen on the band Evanescence (and how the hell do you spell that anyway?). That’s not to say I don’t appreciate what they’re trying to do… I just am not really into goth-opera metal pop. I’m sure that will get me into trouble with the youngsters. But sometimes I just think… hey, eat some red meat and go to the mall, you know? It’s ok. Also, the latest single that’s on the radio is just wrist-slittingly depressing. And who needs that? This is just one of the many reasons that radio kills me lately, but I’ll be touching on that later… much later.

the Grammy for the best use of wearing someone else as hair goes to Christina Aguilera who sported Alicia Keyes on top of her head.

Actually, upon further review, I think that Sting was just trying to join in on the Funk Fest style, but didn’t quite reach Bootsy Collins (shown here with the guy from the White Stripes) level of long coat power.

But yeah, Sting… you’re no Bootsy Collins.

At some point in the evening, the unlikely duo of Snoop Dogg and Jason Alexander hit the stage to introduce the Foo Fighters and Chick Corea (what’s with the freaky combos??). Jason Alexander was dressed pretty conservatively next to Snoop’s “pimprechaun” outfit. He also apparently has found the holy grail… and yo, it is iced out! I feel ya, nephew.

Separated at birth?

I was glad to see Allison Krauss win three Grammys, proving once again that bluegrass is not only alive, but sassy and sexy. Mmmm — dulcimers…

But as with any good party, it’s not over until an alien-native-tribal marching band ensemble takes the stage to shake it like the proverbial Polaroid picture.

Ahhh… so much to say about this magical evening and so little time… but I will just leave you with this one thought: Richard Marx is back, folks, and he means bid’ness. I suggest you pledge your allegiance now, because I think we all know, he is truly the definition of the word “funk”.

Mmmmhm.