Thoughts from the 51st Grammys...

Tonight marks the 51st Grammy Awards from Los Angeles. Here's some random observations and thoughts from the evening from my brain...

Note: My commentary picks up about a half hour into the show since I got home after it had started. I missed U2's show opening performance of their whacky, off kilter "Achtung Baby" sounding new single, "Get on Your Boots," but I'll surely Youtube it before the night is over..


A "Sign of the Apocalypse" moment: Who in Sam Hill let the Jonas Brothers onstage with one of popular music's most legendary performers, Stevie Wonder. Please, someone tell me Stevie was tricked into this, heavily medicated, or lost some sort of Super Bowl bet on the Arizona Cardinals. Say it isn't so Stevie. How could you let these musical children of the Corn butcher one of the funkiest, hop in your step songs of the past 40 years "Superstition"? Why, Stevie, why?

Jumped the shark/worst haircut of the night: I have been a big fan of Kanye West ever since he exploded onto the scene a few years back, first as the producer of some of Jay Z's biggest hits, then as he came into his own as an incredible solo artist. But Kanye is stuffing too much of his Kanye-ness down our throats as of late, and his uber-mullet hairdo tonight was about as stale as his overuse of Auto Tune music software. I was initially hooked by the uniqueness of "Love Lockdown" and "Heartless," but the biggest musical contributions Auto Tunes will go down in history for having created will forever be Cher's "Believe," and the mediocrity of T-Pain. There's a reason singers used to get signed based on their natural abilities, not needing computer technology to correct their tone and pitch...it's called talent.
Why was Morgan Freeman at the Grammys? Morgan himself answered my question-- he's friends with Kenny Chesney, who'd have thunk it. Any film Morgan Freeman is in turns to cinematic gold, so I'll give Kenny the benefit of the doubt based on Morgan's assessment of his good character.


Best fashion accessory: P. Diddy's lavender Member's Only jacket. Members Only jacket=good, Kanye's uber mullet=bad. I only wish I had the prowace and fashion presence to be able to pull off this nylon coat of yesteryear.

Deja vu moment: Coldplay looking like they scoured the dumpsters outside of Abbey Road Studios for the Beatles old "Sgt. Peppers" uniforms. At least the band was noble enough to admit this with Paul McCartney sitting in the front row when they collected one of several awards on the night.

If Kanye should stop singing, Kid Rock should stop rapping: In his multi-song medley, Kid Rock gave the crowd an old fashioned decadent rock performance reminiscent of the mid 1970's. He's got the chops to be a hard rock frontman, and should keep the hip hop on the shelf for a while. I've thought so since his great cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Fortunate Son" ten years ago at Woodstock '99.

Katy Perry kissed a girl, liked it, and lost her voice: This bi-curious top 40 radio smash hit sounded off key while accompanied with the stage setup of a Shop Rite can-can commercial. By the sound of her performance, it's pretty obvious her vocal lack of talent was polished like pair of Prada shoes with the help of studio magic.

Queen Latifah can't fool me into thinking "Swagga Like Us" was a Rat Pack song: Kanye, T.I., Lil' Wayne, and Jay Z aren't the Rat Pack as much as they like to reference them in their songs. Last time I checked Frank, Dean, and Sammy never had Kanye's mullet, Wayne's tone-deafness, or a pregnant M.I.A. onstage with them. I'm usually a big fan of Jay Z and Kanye, but their hodge podge, inconsistently paced performance was so choppy the crowd wasn't even sure when to start applauding.

The Walrus was Grohl?: Dave Grohl pummelled the drums backing Sir Paul McCartney, and made us all remember that before he fronted the Foo Fighters, he was the Keith Moon of the grunge era providing the backbeat for Nirvana. I was surprised at Paul's choice to play "I Saw Her Standing There," as I'm a bigger fan of the later Beatles stuff, and was equally surprised that this was the only song he performed. His appearance fee must be up there with the Super Bowl commercial rates.
Robert Plant is still a Golden God: The frontman of Led Zeppelin picked up some awards with collaborator Allison Krauss with whom he made a great album that abandoned his hard rock roots for some bluegrass ones, "Raising Sand." Recently, Plant totally killed all rumors of a Led Zeppelin reunion saying there wouldn't be anything to gain from it. I'm glad he made this decision, as he closed the door for the band to become another Spinal Tap punchline like so many others that refuse to hang it up when their time has come. As much as I love Led Zeppelin, I respect Plant more as an artist now that he refused to just fold to the financial fortune he could have made on this reunion that would have been nothing more than a nostalgic revisit of the band's mid 1970's peak. They would never sound as good, so their legend and memories can now live on.


Jumped the shark/worst haircut of the night Part II: Radiohead's performance with the USC marching band. (Also lead singer Thom Yorke's Jonas Brothers haircut deserved mention alongside the increasingly popular Kanye uber mullet.) So, what's the deal with Radiohead? I mean, I like them and everything, but why does everyone hail them as the absolute soul saviors of all things music? Their musical peak, according to most music critics, "OK Computer," I find second to what I feel is their best album musically, their previous, "The Bends." I like "In Rainbows" as well, and "OK Computer" is more than OK, but I still think "The Bends" is their best album; and I'm not budging on that stance. Sorry if I prefer melody and modern rock fare to music produced on Pluto. I continue to applaud them for abandoning the ordinary though.

T.I. and J.T. proves much better than T.I.'s previous "Swagga Like Us" debacle: The best part about the Grammy's? Most of the premier artists get countless chances to totally redeem their sub par performances that took place earlier in the evening. "Dead and Gone," was a great performance by an artist I haven't had too much familiarity with other than his music on the radio, T.I. Accompanied by Justin Timberlake, it was one of the surprisingly better performances of the night.

The President of the Grammy's, Neil-something looks like Tommy Chong of Cheech & Chong: He then went on to introduce Smokey Robinson. So, a guy bearing striking resemblance to Tommy Chong introduces a guy known to the Motown-loving world as Smokey...that's some coincidence.

Performance we could have used more of: Keith Urban, B.B. King, Buddy Guy, and John Mayer playing "Bo Diddley" in tribute to the late great blues virtuoso was a hearty buffet of guitar. This was a great performance I wish had gone on longer than it did. Maybe by next year Lil' Wayne won't have to be onstage four more times than one of the Beatles to make room for longer performances by these proven acts. Hopefully Katy Perry's out of tune 15 minutes of fame will be over by then as well.

A "Sign of the Apocalypse" moment Part II: Gary "Lieutenant Dan" Sinise introducing Lil' Wayne in one of his half dozen appearances of the evening. Even he probably asked himself what he was doing at the Grammys. Perhaps his involvement in a film with one of the greatest soundtracks of all time, "Forrest Gump," automatically qualifies him.

As the show was winding down: T-Pain's George Clinton-inspired outfit made P.Diddy's lavender Members Only jacket look like an evening coat for a United Nations diplomatic formal dinner at the Waldorf Astoria.
Robert Plant and Allison Krauss sounded as good live as they do on their record: Plant's voice is aged, and galaxies away from the high pitched hard rock wail from his Led Zeppelin days. It's a different voice, not better or worse, but one that he's grown into and made more great and alternate music with. It was fitting that less than 2 minutes after their performance they collected the award for album of the year.

The show closed with a performance by Stevie Wonder: Because the show's producers realized how royally they screwed Stevie hours before by making him share the stage with the haircare product endorsing Jonas Brothers.

"I AM A GOLDEN GOD!"- Robert Plant from the balcony of the Continental Hyatt (Riot) House in the mid 1970's. Back in town for the Grammy's tonight, he may be repeating the same proclamation.

The Greatest Story Never Told..."Killing Bono"

The name of one of the best rock n roll authors is one that is as random as it is anonymous..Neil McCormick. The author of "Killing Bono," has written one of the most interesting, thoughtful, and entertaining books on the music industry or the entertainment industry in general that I've ever come across. It's title sounds a bit psychotic, and may disappoint anyone who has a disdain for Bono, world renowned frontman for U2. I picked the book up after finding the liner notes interesting. McCormick grew up alongside Bono and the other members of U2 as they went to school together in Ireland. McCormick had lifelong aspirations of becoming a world famous musician, larger than life figure who made music that transcended genres and generations, pretty much everything that Bono and the rest of U2 went on to accomplish.


The sad part about the tale is, with as much fame, success, and fortune U2 had, Neil McCormick had an equal amount of hard times, misery, and misfortune. All of this makes for an extremely entertaining tale. He hits just about any brick wall imaginable in the music business, and to make matters worse, one of his closest friends was simultaneously taking the world by storm. Bono called McCormick his doppelganger, a real life Bizarro Bono in the flesh, even himself admitting to Neil that the only way for his life to be set right would be by "Killing Bono."

Recently, I read the autobiography of guitar legend Eric Clapton because I'm a sucker for music biographies or other true stories in paperback. Clapton's autobiography however, was one of the biggest letdowns I've ever had as I made it a habit over the years not to read much unless I was really interested by something. Since I've started commuting via mass transit every day though, I've had more time to read, and all the time I wasted on Clapton's autobiography, I would have rather had reading McCormick's book again. I haven't lost any respect for Clapton as a musician, but as an author, his book painfully and just barely scratches the surface almost feeling like a cliff's notes version of the book everyone would have wanted to read. If you were thinking of this book, don't buy it unless it's at a garage sale, Clapton phoned it in. A 40 plus year career through the trials and tribulations of rock and roll decadence, and a guy who only scratched the surface of the music industry had an endless amount of more interesting tales to tell.
In reading McCormick's book, it feels like half U2 biography told from a luckless man on the side, watching everything go right for them as the whole world around him fell apart. In his failures as a musician McCormick shines most. His endless determination and conviction make the book comical but touching at the same time. He's a man with a dream, who won't give up on it no matter what. The fact that he constantly gets a figurative kick to the groin with U2's gradual rise to super stardom from their beginnings in the high school gym to selling out Wembley Stadium gives the book a style unlike any other rock n' roll saga. He gets cursed out by Sinead O'Connor, has nightmares about being abandoned by Bono outside the velvet rope, and gets ripped off by Adam Clayton, U2's bassist who sells Neil his first piece of junk instrument.

This book is also just as valuable to a U2 fan, since you're getting the brutally honest opinion of someone who grew up next to them. With a summoned typical biographer there's no doubt going to be inflated stories as well as untold tales. With an authorized biography, a band or musician has the control to leave out some embarrassing memories that they might want to leave in their inner most circles. With a unique and interesting person as McCormick telling it, you get brutal honesty along with an unmatched style. He's not afraid to tell you that Adam Clayton was the most maniacal of U2's members when they were growing up, in one case horrifying girls at their in home rehearsals in the early days only wearing a robe that inadvertently flashed them his own member. I'm also somewhat certain an authorized U2 biography wouldn't dare tell the story of how Bono was invited to join Bob Dylan onstage in Dublin for "Blowin' In the Wind"

but fumbled the lyrics like Ray Finkle trying to kick the Miami Dolphins a Super Bowl victory.

These are stories you couldn't make up, and the luck that they have been told by a guy with a unique and hilarious literary style is the same stars aligning in the sky occurrence U2 has had in becoming one of the biggest bands on the planet. His combativeness with Bono is hilarious, as are his many encounters with people from every depth of the music industry. This book would make one hell of a film, but odds are it could never be visualized nearly as fantastic as it reads. Neil McCormick's tale is one that comes along once in a lifetime, about as often as a monumental band like U2 comes along, perhaps only several times for each generation. The luck of this Irishman had it that he also had the writing chops to get it all down on paper for the world to read. Go out and read this book now. The quote on the cover by Elton John says it all: "The best book I've ever read about trying to make it in the music business."

Editorial: Another Candle in the Wind, Gone at the Top of His Game.

On Sunday night, Heath Ledger won the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor for his unforgettable role as the Joker in "The Dark Knight." He received the night's first standing ovation, and the film's director Christopher Nolan, accepted the posthumous award on Ledger's behalf.

When Ledger died last January from an accidental overdose on medication, I was unusually shaken by it. Perhaps it was his youth, or more likely my anticipation in seeing the most anticipated film of the year in my eyes, "The Dark Knight." Earlier that December, I went to see "I Am Legend" in IMAX just to get a glimpse of the first 6 minutes of "The Dark Knight" which was being promoted with it. You only saw Ledger for all of 10 or 20 seconds, but the anticipation was boiling over nearly 7 months before the film was due in theaters that July.

I don't recall how I got the news; I remember being at work, scouring CNN's website for information, at first thinking it was a hoax for whatever reason. I think my brother was the first person I told about it, as I knew his anticipation for Ledger's upcoming film was as heightened as mine. I got home in a daze, and watched various news networks for several hours, the most stunning sight was seeing the medical staffers take his body out of his apartment building where people had already flocked to. I can't compare it to the assassination of John Lennon in 1980, but seeing the images over the years of fans flocked outside of his home in the Dakota Building also in New York City, came to mind.

The last time I remember being this moved or stirred by the passing of a celebrity was when I was around my 14th birthday in 1997, when I heard in the car on the radio that Chris Farley had died of a heroin overdose, also ironically in New York. I remember it somewhat vividly now, it was Christmastime, it was on z-100 (back when I still listened to that station) and Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song" had just played. It felt like a cold dose of reality, or queasy feeling, not so much a punch to the stomach, but a feeling of unease, that these people I idolized on the silver screen were just as fragile as you or me.

Last January, I was revisited by this feeling, having been a fan of Ledger's work in "The Patriot," "Brokeback Mountain," and remembering the first film I ever saw him in, "10 Things I Hate About You." Here was our generation's James Dean, a tremendous talent, who we would never see come to his fullest potential, a sad casualty to the perils of celebrity and a life cut short.

Then, I saw "The Dark Knight" in IMAX on opening night, actually at the 3AM show with my brother since the midnight shows were long sold out. The crowd was buzzing, and one would have thought it was an 8PM showing, giving no hint other than checking your watch for the time that you could be labeled certifiably insane for seeing a film during the middle of the week 3 hours before the sun was due to come up.

I remember the feeling of the film, that opening sequence, the crowd cheering at the first glimpse of the Joker. Ledger became this character, as I had no recollection or memory of his death for the entire 2 and a half hours of the film. The sign of a brilliant actor, a performer who comes along only a few times in each generation that really changes the way you look at films; someone who raises the bar so high that you don't know if there's anywhere for it to go but down from that moment forward. I'm sure the colossal IMAX screen added to this effect, but I believe it would have been the same feeling regardless. An exhilarating witness of a great story onscreen, portrayed by an actor at his best, helping to redefine the comic book film genre. It started with the first film, "Batman Begins," but major awards buzz already surrounded the film, guiding this ship of a genre down a completely different path.

Then, as some of the crowd lingered during the credits, as my brother and I almost always do whenever we see films together, the first return to reality came with the dedication to Ledger and the stunt man who died during filming. The ride home and next few days were filled with excitement, remorse for what could have been, more excitement, and wondering if a film could get any better than that. We went into the theater in the dead of night, and emerged after 6 AM with the sun up, a surreal experience, fitting for this epic motion picture event. The daze of fatigue and deep thought, and disorientation engulfed us.

I returned to the theater 2 more times to see "The Dark Knight," once the next day, the official opening Friday, and again a few weeks later, to see it again on IMAX. Each time, for those 2 and a half hours, I was removed from the sad reality outside the theater doors, that Heath Ledger's swan song was playing out right before our eyes in that dark theater. But that's what great actors and great films do; they take you away from the world outside for a few hours, away from worries of families, economic crisis, relationships, education, work, and whatever else sits in the back of your mind on a daily basis. Heath Ledger accomplished this in his films, most notably "The Dark Knight," but now, part of the realities of the world outside the cinema, was that he was no longer here.

I came back to these memories today, when reading a post on slashfilm.com recalling this same sentiment, that compiled a list of the greatest final performances by actors prior their deaths, some timely, some untimely. Ledger made this list along with other cinema legends including John Wayne, Greta Garbo, James Dean, and Henry Fonda, and rightfully so. This sad tribute during awards season will hopefully continue with the Oscars, which he most certainly should be at least nominated for in the coming months.

Ledger has one more film yet to be released, "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus," directed by Terry Gilliam, whom he also worked with on "The Brothers Grimm" a few years back. Ledger's work was not finished on that film as he was still working on it at the time of his death, leaving "The Dark Knight" as his last complete film. The fantasy based story left his character the openness to be portrayed in different forms by different people. Therefore, his part has since been taken over by Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and Collin Farrell, all of whom are donating their wages to start a trust fund for the young daughter Ledger left behind.

Link to the article at Slash Film: http://www.slashfilm.com/2009/01/13/john-wayne-leads-list-of-10-best-final-performances-in-acting-history/#more-18690