40th Birthday -- Unplugged, Unslinged, Unplanned

[Last year, on Saturday, January 5, the day before my 39th birthday, my brother's and my friend, Pete, had a party. It was a get together with a bunch of my brother's friends and their girlfriends and wives, people I've known for years and years. I had no plans for my birthday, not because no one had offered, but because I didn't want any. I'd just had surgery, and for other reasons unrelated to birthdays (you know how I like to stay on topic and not digress in endless parentheticals), I wasn't in "the mood" for having a birthday. But there was this party, and my brother and sister-in-law encouraged me to go, so I did. I'm glad I did. It was fun. Even though it wasn't a birthday party, it was the night before my birthday, and I was at a party. I wasn't alone, and therefore, I wasn't sitting somewhere thinking how dumb it was that even though I could be with people, I'd made a choice to sit by myself on my birthday for no reason. (There was a reason, but that's a whole other thing, and again, I'm respecting how you don't need me going off on tangents.)

At midnight, I turned 39. A wink from my sister-in-law and a couple of girlfriends who knew -- that was nice. I felt happy. Content. It was the exact right amount of birthday acknowledgment I could handle that day, and if every birthday could be that way, I think I would like it. But this year, my birthday is on a Monday, and also, I don't live in Chicago, so there are some considerable barriers to someone just happening to have a non-birthday party this Sunday in Nashville.

I've decided to appeal to Pete, who, I'm sure, would probably want to have a party 3 days after New Year's Eve anyway. Lots of people like to go to parties the very first weekend after all the holidays are over. That's why the timing of my birthday is so awesome to begin with... it's usually the first day back to school or "real" work (not "In-between-holidays-I'm-just-here-because-I-have-to-be-but-really-I'm-spending-8-hours-looking-at-everyone's-Facebook-pictures-from-Christmas-and-Jesus!-Did-she-ACTUALLY-wear-THAT-OUT-to-a-New-Year's-Eve-Party?-Why?-Also,-should-I-send-an-email-to-my-friend-asking-her-to-take-down-this-picture-of-me-where-my-muffin-top-is-just-like-REALLY-prominent,-or-would-that-seem-vain?" work.) It's the time of year when NO one really wants to be ANYWHERE except home in bed. Including me. Which is why I never want to celebrate my birthday. But there's still the hope of Pete. For some reason he did it last year. Why not this year?]

***  ***  ***

So, uh, Peter, are you going to unknowingly have a birthday party for me again this year? Saturday works... if the lovely Gigi is free to clean up your place and make it look like a caveman doesn't live there. If she doesn't want to clean up, that's fine too. As for food, I don't need anything fancy. Just cook up those 20 boxes of Macaroni & Cheese that we made fun of you for having after we opened all the cabinets in your kitchen.

This year I'm in pretty decent shape for a party, unlike last year, when I was recovering from shoulder surgery and wearing a comically gigantic sling:

January 2013
The sling and the huge pillow in between my forearm and torso hold my arm in place, but they do not serve any protective function for the part of the body where the surgery happened. While it LOOKS like the elbow and forearm are in distress, the shoulder, with six incisions in front and back, is totally exposed. It must be human nature to slap someone on the shoulder when you see her wearing such a wild contraption (it had REFLECTORS ON IT!), and it makes perfect sense that one would deduce that the person wearing it had met with some kind of elbow misfortune.

It works really well as cup-holder.

Last year at your party, EACH and EVERY PERSON who entered the party, said hello to me and then inexplicably punched me RIGHT in the stitches, causing me to spit-take Diet Coke in agony while smiling and saying, "No, no, I'm fine. It's OK." Then I moved into an empty area of the house that I'd had to seek out for just this purpose, pressed my face into the wall, and screamed noiselessly for 2 minutes. Then I came back out to the party, acting like everything was cool, even though I suspected that after the fifth or sixth jab, and two of them from like REALLY BIG DUDES (you know exactly who I'm talking about), at least ONE of those stitches HAD to have popped open. But I wasn't going to complain or be a baby about it. If people want to greet me by punching me, that's OK. I used to have cats, so I understand that friendliness can be expressed in a variety of ways that don't seem friendly at all.

So after I caught my breath and adjusted my sling, I came back into the room, and I positioned myself strategically so that no one could get near my shoulder. But no matter WHAT I did, people just kept finding me and punching THAT ONE SHOULDER. You know I'm not making this up, Pete. And I think I was a really good sport about it.

The whole point is, my shoulder is fine and totally punch-able now. In fact, I INVITE you to punch it! Accordingly, because I'm able-bodied this year, there should be dancing, preferably to music that you've written... perhaps with me in mind? I'm not asking for much, just maybe a 10-track album entitled "Jules -- The Entire Inspiration for My Life of Music"? That seems reasonable. Thanks in advance.

(Side note to my sister-in-law, and Mindy, and Loradona: Like last year, I'm again requesting that you not tell anyone at Pete's party that it's my birthday, because, like last year, I don't want anyone to know it's my birthday, even though I kept accidentally mentioning it... but only for the purpose of IMPLORING you not to tell anyone, which you didn't, and I really appreciate that.)

The Grammys (2013)

Iknow what you are thinking:  "Wow!!  This girl sure is passionate about her blog!  She writes once a year, and then, only about the Grammys, which she professes to hate."

I DO!  I DO hate the Grammys, but I enjoy a spectacle, and the Grammys are RIDICULOUS.  They also happen to coincide with a time of year when I feel "blog-y."

Today, I am in Vancouver, BC, with Christine and Jared and their 18-month-old son, Cole, who is already superior to me in many ways.  For example, I am dictating this, and he is typing it up while at the same time memorizing the OED.  This frees me up to find out who’s up for what at the Grammys.

A baby is not actually typing this blog.  That would be child abuse in more ways than one.  I’m actually sitting in a Starbucks, as all blog people do, and a group of Vancouver Policemen are sitting at the table next to me.  This is so perfect, because it is just the way I picture Canadian police people – protecting the Canadian public with lap tops instead of guns.

Canadians are more likely to die from accidentally getting trapped under giant bottles of ketchup.

I had to go to the bathroom, but I have a very extensive lap top, net book, iPhone, iPad, and 14-iPod set-up, and it's a pain in the ass to put all of that away to go to the bathroom, then come back and not be able to find a new place to sit.

So, I stood up and said, "Sirs?  If I leave the table for a minute, can you keep an eye on my electronics?"

Only one out of the four of them acknowledged that I had spoken, but he looked at the SETI array on my table, and shirked the responsibility.  Fine.  So the Vancouver po-po don't want to guard my tribute to Steve Jobs.  I packed everything up, and then I came back and took it all out again.  They were still there, still ignoring me, and, weirdly, I think, didn't seem to care that I was very openly photographing them.

So anyway, I'm on Pacific Time, and this leads me to understand that the Grammy ceremonials will be televised here at 5 AM, so I'm starting my "live" blog two days ahead of time.  OK, Cole.  I've got a lot of opinions, so keep up (and please stop making thoughtful edits to my unwieldy parentheticals – it's a "stylistic" choice).

I will now give you my personal analysis of the relative worthiness of the nominees.  It is in no way intended to disrespect your own musical preferences.  Music is my oxygen, and I can't walk four feet without noise hooks in my ears.  I listen to mostly indie/electronic stuff, but when "We R Who We Are" comes on my iPod, I openly jump-strut-slut-dance on the Blue Line.  Yes, of course I does.  You don't wanna mess with me.  Got Jesus on my neck-a-lus-es-es.  (I mentally write 9 differently-themed blog posts every time I hear this song.)

I am pleasantly surprised to find that this year a few of the nominees are bands that I called for recognition of LAST year.  I am hip, which is to say, "I know how to use the SoundHound app while watching movies and cutting edge TV programs, like 'Parenthood.'"  I recognize that I am not actually RESPONSIBLE for the coolness of the music I like.  I did not WRITE this music, and I did not PERFORM it.  I do not OWN songs or bands just because I heard them before you did.  But I did, in fact, hear them before you did.  I know that you are about to open your piehole to protest.

Don't.

Unless you are some underground pump-rat whose dad surfs with Eddie Vedder, accept that I have heard EVERYTHING before you.

I stay up all night dancing alone in my apartment while illegally downloading French rap.  You have children and a mortgage, and if we could trade places, I would probably go for it, so let me have this:  For a lady of a certain age, I AM hip.

First, an education: The recordings that are up for "Record of the Year" are "songs," as are the recordings that are up for "Song of the Year," but "Record of the Year" goes to the performance artist, and "Song of the Year" goes to the songwriter.  If you have ever been to the Bluebird Cafe in Nashville (it's a real place, not just something they made up for the new TV show "Nashville"), then you know that songwriters are the fucking BOMB.  They even have great voices.  I don't know why they sell their songs, but probably someone who knows something about music has a blog about that.  Look it up.

Carole King is the baddest-ass example of a prolific songwriter who no one heard of until she recorded "Tapestry" in 1971.  I was not then alive, but that album was so great, my mom made me clean the house to it all the way into the 80s.  Scrubbing a toilet is infinitely more bearable when you’re doing it to "I Feel the Earth Move."

[This is a neat coincidence that occurred after I wrote the section above:  On February 9, Carole King was given a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.]

There would be no "I Will Always Love You" without Dolly Parton, and no "Nothing Compares 2 U" without Prince.  It's not a surprise that such a gorgeous song was penned by Prince, but because he is very small, the artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known As Prince was not a fan of the song being made famous by Sinéad's cover of the track.  The last time I heard "Nothing Compares 2 U" in an uncontrolled environment, I was spooning on pecans at a salad bar at the Jewel on Des Plaines in Chicago.  I started crying and the pecans were falling off the spoon.  I'm leaky, and it's very hard not to cry when I hear that song.

Although songwriters are the shit, they aren't the ones in the videos, so let's talk about the nominees for Record of the Year.  I can hardly wait because I know who's going to win, just like last year.  Even though I was wrong, I still think I was right because, weirdly, as I am sitting in a Starbucks on Kaslo St. in Vancouver, my iPod just started playing "All of the Lights," which is pretty fucking crazy, since I need 4 different iPods, an iPhone, an iPad and two lap tops to contain my music.  Granted, you would be alarmed at how much space Deadmau5 will take up on a 64-GB iPod, but still, Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" won 87 Grammys last year, and you couldn't PAY me to listen to that song all the way through right now.  But "All of the Lights"?  I drove a good stretch of Montana listening to that song exclusively (except when I was listening to This Will Destroy You, because there are occasions when you really need to FEEL things).

1. Lonely Boy, The Black Keys

This one was part-produced by Danger Mouse, which can't be a bad thing.  I'm not sure if I like the song because of the song, or because of the video.  The video makes me uncomfortable because I am not sure whether we are "with" the dancing guy, or laughing at him.  I don't want to be laughing at him because he's so dignified.  I like this song, but I judge songs by whether, when I hear them, I want to hear them again.  I heard this song once, and I can't say that I would go out of my way to listen to it again.  I saw the video for this song on September 30, sitting in a hotel room in Ann Arbor while my friend was blow-drying her hair.  I pulled her out of the bathroom to help me assess the song, and we couldn't reach a conclusion whether we liked it or didn't like it.  That isn't a winning endorsement for a "Record of the Year" nominee.

Also, I will forever associate The Black Keys with a strange argument I heard while having dinner at a Mexican restaurant the night before Lollapalooza in 2010.  The couple sitting next to us got into an all-out yelling match about whether The Black Keys or Lady Gaga had more talent.  The argument seemed like it should have been jokey, but as hard as we tried to find it funny, the couple got louder, and it became clear that when they went home, someone (the guy) was gonna get a beating.  The girl (I can’t remember whether she was pro- or anti-Lady G) was really dominating the fella, but the fella was still arguing his point.  It was making the people around them so uncomfortable that we considered entering the conversation in a light-hearted way, but then feared physical violence, so we focused on the guac and waited them out.  (We went to see Lady Gaga.)  I'd seen The Black Keys at Lolla two years prior, and while they were really great live, I don't care for them not-live, and Lady Gaga playing to a pile of sweaty, mud people in Grant Park was clearly the bigger spectacle.

I listened to "Lonely Boy" for the second time just now, and it is fine, but it is not the Record of the Year, and I'm not concerned that anyone else will think it is either.  I'm not saying who has more talent, but I'd rather listen to "Poker Face" than "Lonely Boy."

2. Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You), Kelly Clarkson

This is a good song for standing in airport security lines, for catching the last half of the first verse and part of the chorus when you are a passenger in someone else's car before they skip it to listen to another song, or when you are doing something in your house and it comes on in the middle of a playlist and you don't even notice that you just listened to it and even danced to it a little bit.  I like this song.  I would like to hear it all the way through and be aware that I am doing so, but.... oops, I just instinctively skipped it on my iPod.

3. We Are Young, Fun. feat. Janelle Monáe

I do not like this song, but I know that YOU love it, and I won't try to take that away from you.  I don't actively hate "We Are Young," but it does nothing for me.  I can't dance to it.  I can't sing along with it (because I am not a natural-born asshole, or a drunk 20-something who thinks her voice sounds better the louder she sings).  "We Are Young" is sad and/or happy; it changes pitch and pace with every verse; it sounds like four different songs; and it's either about being awesome or about being a loser or about being so drunk that someone the size of a Keebler elf thinks he has to stuff you in the trunk of his Vespa and take you to his tree house.  Also, I don't want Fun. to get into the habit of winning Grammys tonight, because Fun. is going to be hard to write about for obvious reasons.

[the period in their name]

I don't want you thinking I don't know how to punctuate shit.  I like the use of the period, and I like Fun., and I like their other songs, but not this one.  The Grammys don't give runner-up awards, but I think this one is a second runner-up for the win, because as far as I can tell, I am the ONLY person on the planet who doesn't visibly inflate with enthusiasm when this song comes on.  It does have an anthem feel, so I understand why people go all "You Oughta Know" about it, but I can't get anthematic about a song that I've watched my nephew rock out to on a daily basis for a year.  He is 3 years old.  He IS young.  He spits his food out, and I CAN carry him on my back.  He’s SUPPOSED to be small, so it's OK that he's the same height as the lead singer of Fun.. (There are two periods there for a reason.  Note that.)

All right.  Opinion reversal.  I've forced myself to listen to this song 10 times while writing this post, and I find that as long as I'm not looking at Nate Ruess, I don't get as upset.  I still can't sing along with it or dance to it, but it doesn't make my skin crawl the way it did when it came out.  This song is a contender.

4. Somebody That I Used To Know, Gotye feat. Kimbra

"Somebody That I Used To Know" is to 2012 what "Umbrella" was to 2007, but better.  SO.  MUCH.  BETTER.  "Somebody That I Used To Know" will win.  If you don't love this song, you're barking up the wrong blog.  This is the song of the fucking DECADE.  I first heard this song on a music blog in December 2011, and I was so sad that it would never be popular because there is NOTHING not to LOVE about this song.  But then one night in March, I heard it playing on WXRT, and I couldn't believe it got out!  "Yay, Gotye feat. Kimbra!"  I don’t know anyone who, upon hearing this song for the first time, doesn't want to listen to it 44 more times in a row.  (Except all of my girlfriends, who, when I tried to play it for them, were like, "yeah, OK, I mean, it’s… put on Jim Croce.") (My girlfriends don't appreciate music, which is why I have to go to concerts by myself and single-handedly raise the mean age of the crowd above 30.)  This song was performed incredibly well by Gotye feat. Kimbra at the Aragon in Chicago on April 4.  It was also covered by EVERYONE in the five months following its release.  This cover by Walk Off The Earth is a hoot.  I could write an entire post about how fun it is to watch JUST the guy with the beard on the far right.

And, in case you were wondering, yes, I am disappointed that the title and the chorus of this song contain an unfortunate grammatical error.  Direct objects of the preposition “that” are things, not persons.  People are prepositionalized (that's not a word, but I'm writing about music today, and ain't no need for grammar when you writin' 'bout music) with "who."  It hurts my ears to sing "somebody that I used to know" instead of "somebody who I used to know," but I forgive Gotye feat. Kimbra.  The song is good enough to let it go.  I've spent a good deal of the past two years with love in my legs for Ke$ha, and she is clearly illiterate, or her songwriters are LOL cats.

5. Thinkin Bout You, Frank Ocean

This song listens like a strawberry-banana smoothie.  It goes down easy, and the effortless octave changes wash over you like beams of sunlight.  Powerful voice, but SO chill.  Like most songs, this one can get me to crying if I let it.  I heard Frank Ocean was blind, or there's something about him that’s kind of extraordinary.

No.  Wait.  He’s bisexual.  A bisexual artist/songwriter/ performer/creative.  That’s so CRAZY!

This is a lovely song, and "channel ORANGE" is a great album all the way through, but mostly I have the urge to start a rumor that he is related to Billy Ocean, a favorite of my brother's during a phase when he had to simultaneously have a binky in his mouth, carry a yellow blanket, and wear a fireman's helmet.

6. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together, Taylor Swift

No.

[If the Grammys want to go this route, and I know this is based on chart performance, but if this song is one of SIX recordings of 2012 up for Record of the Year, and it is about female empowerment, there are at least 400 better recordings that fall into this category.  Please see: P!nk's "Blow Me (One Last Kiss)," Katy Perry's "Wide Awake," and Alanis Morrisette's "Guardian" (I have no idea what this song is about, but I  think Alanis is contractually REQUIRED to write songs about female empowerment, and when I hear "Guardian," I certainly FEEL like I could tear a goat into shards with my teeth.)

These are just a few pop artists.  I didn't have to dig around in an indie cellar to find any of that.  Can we let Taylor Swift grow up for a few more years and then see what she has to say?  With even TWO more years of life experience, I could almost take this girl seriously.  "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" song IS catchy, but I want Taylor and her hair and her SO BIG guitar and her boy drama to go away and not come back until she graduates from having crushes to HAVING HER DREAMS TORN ASUNDER AND HER HEART PULLED OUT OF HER BODY THROUGH THE TOP OF HER SKULL AND THEN FLATTENED ON THE CARPET IN FRONT OF HER WITH A ROLLING PIN WHILE THE DICKHEAD WHO IS DOING IT IS LOOKING AT HER WITH DEAD EYES AND PRETENDING HE ISN'T THE ONE HOLDING THE ROLLING PIN.  When this happens, you know you are a woman.  And when this happens to Taylor Swift, I am confident that she will write something that will make our eyes bug out of our heads, and THEN she will have my Grammy respect.]

Some final preliminary notes:

Carly Rae Jepsen MUST win a Grammy. I have been listening to "Call Me Maybe" (just like you have) for the past nine months, and it makes me SO HAPPY every time I hear it.  But funnily, right now is the first time I've ever seen the video.  I didn't even know what she looked like behind those bangs.  I like the song even more now that I know that the story that goes with it is the story of my life from age 10 to age 23.  It's up for "Song of the Year" and "Best Pop Solo Performance."  It was also up for "Most Embarrassing Two Seconds of My Life" when my neighbor across the alley caught me dancing to it LONG before I saw him.  And I was dancing HARD, my friend.  VERY HARD.

Also, I like a lot of music, so it's difficult to make a statement like this without feeling like I'm neglecting other loves, but it is my opinion that Madness, by Muse, is not only the coolest song of 2012, but has the KILLINGEST video.  It's up for "Best Rock Song."  I flew to another country, walked around that country, and took the Blue Line home from O'Hare listening ONLY to this song.

Finally, although I ADORE Fiona Apple's "The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than The Driver Of The Screw And Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do," (a/k/a "The Idler Wheel..."), and "Making Mirrors" by Gotye, because you can listen to them all the way through, over and over and over, I personally NEED M83's "Hurry Up, We're Dreaming." [M83, like Fun., is into periods] to win "Best Alternative Music Album."  (I listened to and saw M83 live more than any other band in 2012.)

Download a ballot

OK.  Christine, Jared, Cole, and I are settled in having our breakfast and watching the Grammys.  Something pretty cool has just been announced:  We are being joined by friends of Christine, one girl called Katie, and another named Vicki Tickle.  I don't know Katie’s last name, and I assume she prefers it that way.  However, Vicki Tickle has the great fortune of having a first and last name that you must ALWAYS ALWAYS say together.  I bet NOBODY calls her just "Vicki."  I bet Vicki Tickle's Grandma calls her "Vicki Tickle."  Some people have names like this, to wit:  Susie Spies (pronounced “spees”).  That's so fun to say, especially when you say it really fast!!  Susie is a fun name to say anyway, but "Susie Spies" just takes the cake.  Also, I went to college with a guy named "Wolf Tone."  I'm told repeatedly by my girlfriends that I have met Wolf Tone a number of times, but I don't believe that's the case, because there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that I could have met a person named "Wolf Tone" and not asked him a thousand questions about the genesis of his AWESOME name.  I would have remembered that.  I envy people with names like this, because they don't NEED nicknames.  Their parents blessed them with built-in remarkableness.

I don't know this Vicki Tickle, but she is from Australia, and based on my experience with Australians, I think that she won't mind having her first and last name included in a non-important person's blog post about the Vancouver police and the Grammys.  I am very much looking forward to meeting Vicki Tickle, (Katie, not so much), and so we are all in luck, because Vicki Tickle is, at this very moment, entering the building!

Frankly, I am more interested in Vicki Tickle right now than I am in Dave Grohl's "political statements" about auto-tune and garages.

There are few musicians as appealing as Dave Grohl,

so I wish to make clear that I am not disrespecting Dave Grohl, but I am hoping that this year he may be a bit less heavy-handed.  Dave Grohl is a Foo Fighter.  He should know, to each his own.  I doubt his recording-studio garage looks like the garages I have known, and a little auto-tune goes a VERY long way.  

Here we go:

The Grammys (2012)

Full disclosure, I listen to a kind of music that isn’t generally recognized at the Grammy's. It’s called: "better than the music that is recognized at the Grammy's." But whatever. I only know 3 of the 5 songs nominated for Song of the Year, so I had to download the others to hear them.

Yuck.

1. I can’t even acknowledge "The Cave" by Mumford and Sons. Unless you are Kings of Leon, the rule is, "No fiddles." NO FIDDLES! Why is this rule not being strictly enforced? (There are probably no fiddles in the song, but I hated it so much, I had to stop listening to it so I could go eat an Eggo, but it seems like the kind of song that would have a fiddle-component in it somewhere.) Look, I love a fiddle from time to time, especially on one of those Dixie Chicks who isn't the funny looking little one, or the hair-challenged, now-deceased former member of Dave Matthews' posse. But anyway, in general, my view is that fiddling should be reserved for the CMAs. And so should this stupid song (whether or not there is a fiddle and whether or not this is some kind of hybrid country song). Even if you like it, it's really fucking mellow for the Grammy's.

2. Someone should call in a 5150 involuntary psychiatric hold for Bruno Mars, who is clearly suffering from suicidal ideation in "Grenade." How is no one looking into this? It's a decent song, but as with "The Cave," it is way too maudlin for Grammy exposure.

3. But hold onto your fiddles! Are they trying to get America to collectively OFF itself this year?! It is very hard not to love every song Bon Iver puts out, including a really cool cover of "Come Talk to Me" by Peter Gabriel, but I can’t see "Holocene" winning in this category. First of all, no one really feels comfortable saying the name of this band of one person, whose name is not Bon Iver. And the song is just too beautiful and real. One of the lyrics is: “and at once I knew I was not magnificent.” What’s not to love about that? So I’m giving them a pass on pirating the video directly from Sigur Ros’ "Glosoli," which is one of my all-time most favorite songs. Maybe I should watch the Iceland Grammy's next year. Then again, I still have some issues with Reykjavik. Anyway, if you think "Grenade" is a sad love long, go on a road trip and listen to "Holocene" followed by "Rosalyn." I don’t know what any of the lyrics mean, but you’ll convince yourself they apply to something somehow, and you will be pulled over on the side of the road crying under a viaduct within 14 minutes. Trust me. Bon Iver is great music… for when you wake up and say, "I feel like being a pussy today. I wanna have weird memories come back, feel sorry for myself, regret every decision I ever made, and cry so hard I can’t go to work tomorrow without having to wear a face mask to hide the fact that my eyes are swollen shut." Thus, Bon Iver cannot win.

4. "All the Pretty Lights"(feat.) Kanye West/Rihanna/Kid Cudi/possibly Elton John and Travis Tritt? I don't know. Seems like a lot of bodies involved on this one. Incidentally, I am in LOVE with the term "feat.", the definition of which is:

"I can't write or carry a song by myself, so I better call up Rihanna."  [SOURCE: Wikipedia]

Rihanna's got noting to do. She's only "feat."-d on every song by every artist currently available on iTunes, including Coldplay -- yeah, that's what I said, COLDPLAY!!! -- and she makes EVERYTHING more awesome. It's like they had a pretty good song going, but then they were like,

"We can make this better. Let's put something in there that will make people feel like they are having a totally unanticipated and unwanted orgasm while they're walking to work."

"I agree. I have Rihanna on speed dial, and she never says no. You can punch her right in the face, and she just keeps going."

So anyway, "All the Pretty Lights" is awesome and will win. SIDE BONUS: It also causes seizures!! Really. It says so right at the top of the video. I myself had a self-loathing-induced seizure while listening to it, but that’s because I started hating my boobs after seeing what Rihanna has going on with hers.

5. Adele’s "Rolling in the Deep," is a close second for the win, because she has a lot of traction this year, and also because she never abused pretty little Taylor Swift at a former Grammy presentation. Everyone forgives her the fact that she hasn't Jennifer Hudson-ed out on us (yet) by joining Weight Watchers.

Adele has to have somewhere to store those super-human lungs. Or maybe she keeps them in that kaiser roll on her head.  In which case, maybe lose some weight. You're in America, honey bun. Don't mislead our youth into thinking they can achieve stardom in this world and still know the taste of cheese.

Frankly, I want a separate televised music event when someone will give me "Pumped up Kicks" by Foster the People (nominated in the category "Best Pop Duo/Group Performance" instead of Best Song, where it belongs), or "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Gotye (feat. Kimbra) (they should win something just for having peculiar names -- look at the video. You're a little bit startled to find out they're both white people, huh, aren'tcha?) These are very catchy songs. They get stuck in your head for MONTHS. Longer even! I've had "Pumped Up Kicks" in my head since December 2010. I put peanut butter on my brain to try to get it out, but it didn't work, so now I have to cut off my head.

I don't know whether she is performing, but I don't need any more of Lady fucking Gaga. I get it. We are SO CLOSE to seeing your vagina, we can hardly take it. You’re SO provocative. You can sing in German. I fully and utterly respect you for your talent. I’m just bored. Enough with the props and the hats and bathing suits. You are wildly musically gifted and have a fantastic voice. So just dance. Have you ever seen Maroon 5? Less is more, Lady. Adam Levine is hot as fucking hell even though he could fit into a teacup. But he can WAIL and his "dance" moves are sexy sexy sexy even though they are nearly imperceptible to the human eye.

Prediction:

The Grammy producers may or may not have gone to great lengths to make sure that Kanye and Taylor will not ever at any point cross paths this year. But I’m betting they will. Why? Because there will have to be some kind of Whitney Houston tribute, and they are scrambling to get a motley crew of artists to participate on the stage in some bizarre, unlistenable medley of “How Will I Know?” and “The Greatest Love of All.” Beyonce’s a lock. So is Taylor. John Mayer will somehow be needed to play a solo, and Kanye will muscle in. I just know it. And I cannot WAIT!

So as you can see, the fact that I know nothing about what’s going on in the mainstream music industry fully qualifies me to offer you my opinions.
---

I invited my friend Paul over because he does music, I'm afraid to watch the Grammys alone, and two heads are better than one, as demonstrated above by Rihanna being tacked onto every song being sung in the universe lately. But her star will pass. Chris Brown will crazy-leg her to death one day.

So Paul comes over at 7 and for 45 minutes watches me painstakingly construct a taco dip using one of my two plates. This is by design. I never watch an award show in real time because live blogging is so much more satisfying for readers if you don't post your blog until four days after the show.

Bruce Springsteen opens with a yellow guitar. This is nice. His hair looks nice.  Good tan. Don't really understand the pirate earrings, but he looks better in his jeans than I do, and I'm impressed that Little Steven and Red Head haven't aged since 1980. Nothing shocking so far. Kanye doesn't come in and try to steal his thunder road.

Then LL Cool J arrives to host the show. He looks meticulous in his beret.

PAUL: What has LL Cool J done for the music world in the past 10 years?
ME: I think he's a detective now.

LL seems grave and says, "Tonight, we ask ourselves, 'How do we speak to this time? To this day? There is no way around this. We've had a death in our family.'" and I get all confused. What? What time? What do we have to speak to? Who died???!!! What’s going on?

PAUL: Whitney Houston.
ME: Oh yeah.

I don't know how I already forgot about that.  But it's gonna get hard to forget again. Whitney Houston Death Reference (WHDR) #1.

PAUL: He's gonna read a prayer from a piece of paper?

ME: Those people in the audience are just pretending to be sad because they know they're on camera.

PAUL: You're harsh!

ME: Have we met? Why do you think you're here? Shut up.

LL ends his prayer. "Whitney, we will always love you" -- They show Whitney signing "I Will Always Love You" from an earlier Grammy show when she was not dead, and I feel bad because she had a good voice, and Paul says people are saying this is a bigger loss than Michael Jackson.

ME: What did I just tell you? You're talking nonsense. 

PAUL [under his breath]: She won more Grammy's.

ME: I don't care. Who sang "Wanna be Startin' Something"? That's the bigger loss. 

PAUL: Can you imagine going to the Grammy’s and having to sit behind a guy in a cowboy hat? That would fucking suck.

We are promised some "new Grammy moments." I can’t wait for the new Grammy moments!!!

Camera scan of the audience leaves Paul and I in a short debate about who’s wearing the little red riding hood cape. Debate ends in us reminding each other that we don't know who anyone is anyway. All I can tell you is that Lady Gaga has costumed herself a la Hannibal Lecter. Why? Why?

Bruno Mars performs "Run Away, Baby" in the Temptations format.

ME: What kind of ethnic combo do you think he has going on there? He's really neat looking.

PAUL: I need a gold jacket.

ME: I've been saying that forever.

WHDR#2 seems a little bit weird, somehow disingenuous -- Bonnie Raitt and Alicia Keys sing together.

ME: I've never heard this song. Why are they singing this non-Whitney Houston song as a tribute to her?

PAUL: Because it’s for Etta James.

ME: Oh. I think I got lost in Alicia’s greaser hairdo.

Bonnie Raitt and Alicia Keys hand out the Grammy for BEST POP SOLO PERFORMANCE: "Someone Like You" Adele. Paul and I both want Pink to win. I would tell you what I thought of Adele's acceptance speech, but, um, couldn't quite catch it. Was that English?

Chris Brown performs. Not a lot of people can pull off jeans like that. His talent is undeniably amazing. Even so...

ME and PAUL in unison: Is there any effort to keep Chris Brown AWAY FROM Rihanna at these things? 

ME: He can punch anyone he wants if he keeps dancing this way. 

PAUL: She’s probably got security here.

ME: I hear Jay-Z needs the cash.

Fergie and Marc Anthony hand out the Grammy for BEST RAP PERFORMANCE: Otis, Kanye West and Jay-Z (We are informed that neither of them is in attendance)

ME: WHAT?? THAT'S BULLSHIT!!! The only reason I'm watching this crap is to see what Kanye does.

Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson come out to perform together.

PAUL: Kelly Clarkson looks like she ate Kelly Clarkson.

ME: I don't approve of making fun of a girl's weight.

We then pause the show to conduct a 45-body-part comparison of my body to Kelly Clarkson's.

Verdict: Kelly Clarkson is fat-ish.

Jason Aldean looks like he’s trying to hold his suit together -- not really sure about the hat. Oh wait. Yes I am. Don’t wear a cowboy hat with a suit.

ME: Oops, mike malfunction. Why didn't she share her mike with him?
PAUL: She’s a hog.

Jack Black introduces Foo Fighters as having "indie cred" because they play outside. Dave Grohl performs wearing a Slayer t-shirt, still cool. Can’t not be cool.

PAUL: [Goes into sincere detail about how and why Dave Grohl is so talented.]
ME: I like his arm bands. Is he late for a tennis match?

Rihanna performs, slipping in WHDR#3. Rihanna is lip syncing, getting anally raped, and becoming the lord of the dance all at the same time.

Coldplay performs. It makes me sad how bad Chris Martin sounds.

PAUL: I wish there were something we could vote on. Make the Grammy's more interactive!

Guess they couldn't get Eli Manning. Here’s an awkward Grammy moment. Proof that professional football players cannot read, speak, or dance.

BEST ROCK PERFORMANCE: Walk, Foo Fighters. Waiting for a good speech here from Grohl. Instead, I get the answer for why all their music sounds like it was made in a garage in 1993. Their Grammy-winning song actually was made in a garage. Grohl makes the big political statement of the night --- indie = anti-autotune. "Singing into a microphone is the most important." MAJOR DIG on the 34 hip hop artists who performed within the half hour prior to his speech.

Ryan Seacrest belongs everywhere.

The Beach Boys' voices have withstood the test of time. Accompanied by Adam Levine wearing a three-piece-suit without the jacket (swoon), and Vampire Weekend (I think -- they look like they're 11 years old, so it has to be Vampire Weekend, right?) No, it's actually Foster the People. These adorable smiling little punks are the ones responsible for messing with my brain all these months?

Stevie Wonder gives us WHDR#4, but no performance. No performance? Stevie, fire your agent. There are no circumstances under which you should go ANYWHERE and not light up our dig with your singing (is that man EVER not glowing with contagious joy?) just to introduce someone else...

Well, I guess unless it's Paul McCartney (feat.) Diana Krahl (sort of) and Joe Walsh.

PAUL: He kind of looks like my Aunt Kathy.
ME: I don't know your Aunt Kathy, but I whole-heartedly agree.

BEST R&B ALBUM goes to Chris Brown. He sounds a bit like he’s saying he’s sorry and thanking the Grammy's for letting him perform. I am obsessed with his chest tat. How did Rihanna not see it coming?

The Civil Wars are for some reason given only 60 seconds to be awesome, and then introduce Taylor Swift.

PAUL: She looks like Minnie Pearl. She just needs the hat.

The hair is so strangely ugly and plain. Are we going the other way now? Is the idea to look frumpy? Will this become the new trend?

PAUL: She has pretty eyes. I wonder if those are contacts?
ME: I was pretty when I was 17 too.
PAUL: You’re holding it together.
ME: That’s the sweetest thing you've ever said to me.

Neil Patrick Harris gives Adele the Grammy for SONG OF THE YEAR: Rolling in the Deep

Katy Perry performs in a short, blue, crimped wig.

PAUL: I'm not into that blue hair thing.
ME: I wonder what your genetic make up has to be to come out with blue hair?
PAUL: I like her because she's shaped like a real woman. She has curves. She has hips.
ME: Are we looking at the same person?

BEST COUNTRY ALBUM: Lady Antebellum

Gwyneth Paltrow shows up. Did she just walk in with Chris and they let her on the show?

Adele sings "Rolling in the Deep" after winning the Grammy for BEST SONG OF THE YEAR.

Now I feel like I’m watching Hee-Haw. We don’t appreciate the Perry Band siblings not coordinating their varying looks. The sister is wearing a hula skirt. The brothers are showing too much nut.

Blake Shelton, I’m OK with what you’re doing for the look of country with that nice suit and handsomeness and NO country hat. Thank you.

BEST NEW ARTIST: Bon Iver. How is this a new artist? I saw him at Lollapalooza in 2009. But he's the first and only person to get kicked off the stage with music for talking too long, allowing the camera to pan to the audience, where the Band Perry looks super angry for having lost.

We are thinking about turning it off for awhile. This is so boring, it's exhausting, but then, Oooh!!! Oooh!!! The dead people part! Who doesn't love the dead people part?

[At this point, my DVR catches up with real time, so Paul and I decide to do some song writing, and what I mean by that is, Paul plays guitar and I heckle him.]

When we tune in again, we are treated to Jennifer Hudson massacring "I Will Always Love You," which is the point when you realize, I don't care how much crack that lady did, or how sweaty she got when she sang, only WHITNEY HOUSTON could sing that song the way it was meant to be sung. In addition, we aren't sure about what's going on under Jennifer's dress.

PAUL: Is she wearing something that ladies wear to make...
ME: Spanx.

But they're not on right or something. There appears to be a sharp ledge up around the hips.

PAUL: Her fake eyelashes are too heavy for her eyes.

Then there's some kind of out-of-doors block party going on with a black guy who isn't Will.i.am.

PAUL: What is that in his hair?

ME: A spork.

How does Chris Brown beat up a girl and then get to perform 8 times at the Grammy's? He kicks off what looks like the coolest dance party of all time, introducing Foo Fighters and Deadmau5 -- the eyes on the mouse head are now updated to look like KITT from Knight Rider.

Drake introduces Niki Minoj (I'm not even going to look up how to spell her name because she doesn't deserve it). Paul and I don’t even know what to say about the Exorcism theme of this performance. We’re creeped out by the most awkward moment of the Grammy's. It reminds me of when Madonna performed Like a Virgin and she's crawling around on the ground in a lace mini wedding dress and I was watching with my mom and I wanted to die.

PAUL: I'm not even religious, and this is offensive to me.
ME: I'm not religious either, and I feel scared. I'm praying it doesn't get worse...

PAUL: Did she...?
ME: She totally dropped the F-bomb.

I don’t care whether she actually said it or not, but it sounded like it, and that's enough for me. She's lip syncing? How did they get the swearing in?

RECORD OF THE YEAR: Rolling in the Deep, Adele. This is kind of boring, just watching Adele keep winning, since you can't understand anything she says anyway.

Diana Ross’ hair. An entity unto itself.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR: 21, Adele. Such an awkward speech, which, again, I can’t understand. I do hear her say that someone taught her quality control -- but apparently not portion control, or that it’s not “nice” to say “snot” in America.

PAUL:  Why didn't they just give all of the Grammy's to her when she went up the first time? Unless they’re viewing it as a way to get her to exercise.

ME:  I want LL Cool J to DO something!

Still looking like Paul's Aunt Kathy, Paul McCartney sings the B-side of Abbey Road and sounds amazing as ever.  The show concludes with a totally fantasmic 5 minutes of round robin dueling guitars, including, but not limited to, Paul McCartney, the Boss, Dave Grohl, Joe Walsh (and two others we can't identify but only because we're too tired to try).  Two out of two of us agree that Dave Grohl definitely sounds the best in this context.

God, I wish I hadn't watched that.  Paul and I could have written 40 songs and been up for a Grammy ourselves next year. I look forward to writing a totally superior song one day, only to have to present Taylor Swift and then lose to her.