From the moment most of us are old enough to change the channel, we come to see the Grammy ceremony for what it truly is: a barometer for the music industry's self-congratulatory dedication to continually lowering the bar, thereby making the entire show unwatchable. Recognizing this, Grammy organizers hasten their own demise by shifting focus from painfully ill-conceived acceptance speeches to painfully ill-conceived live performances.
This year's "highlight" saw Chicago, with twenty one Top 10 singles, but still no induction into the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, forced to treat Alan Thicke's smarmy son as an equal in order to get some national airtime.
Elsewhere, Album Of The Year went to a duo wearing motorcycle helmets.
In both cases, the songs for which both Daft Punk and Robin Thicke are best known are mere imitations of superior funk tracks from a by-gone age. A catchy bass line lifted from a Marvin Gaye tune does not a pop song make, but you wouldn't know that based on all the freakin' money it and "Get Lucky" made for the record business in 2013.
Therein lies the rub, not to mention the basis for many a heated discussion with any remaining music biz insiders. To them, anything that sells millions these days is worth celebrating, no matter how devoid of talent or creativity it may be. See, those executives in the front row aren't so much celebrating the greatness of Lorde, but, rather, the continuation of their lavish lifestyle based on her success.
Sadly, as celebrated by the industry as Lorde may be today, it'll be this same industry that will unceremoniously shun her when subsequent singles fail to generate as much heat as "Royals" did last year.
Regardless of how much she may develop as a singer or songwriter in the future, unless it sells through the roof, it may as well have not happened at all.
Such a cut-and-dry worldview is great for removing weeds from a garden, but not for cultivating career artists, unless your definition of "career artist" is Britney Spears. Of course, legacy artists are celebrated, too, but only for their most forgettable work. Sorry, but nobody - including Paul McCartney himself - will remember "Cut Me Some Slack" five years from now, much less the fact that it won the 2014 Grammy for Best Rock Song.
The Grammy Awards have unwittingly become a celebration of all that is disposable about music by those who could just as easily be selling bottles of wine or urinal cakes.
Perhaps some forward-thinking exec will pull off the synergistic marketing coup of all time: Taylor Swift urinal cakes.
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grammy 2014 awards