GRAMMY'S 2014: Great Expectations

My mom once told me that, if I can't say anything nice, I shouldn't say anything at all. Luckily, my mother has grown to accept my outspoken nature, because I (unfortunately) have very few compliments to pay the Recording Academy, and whoever else is responsible for last night's slumber party. Which do you want first - the good news or the bad? Okay, fine. 

The good news. LL Cool J is somewhat amusing and totally endearing again (as opposed to last year's "funeral" fiasco). He's so endearing, in fact, that he can insult Taylor Swift and provoke a high-five rather than a Kacey Musgraves stare-down. Performance-wise, John Legend reminded us all why he's no "ordinary people" during his performance of "All of Me." Hands down, the best of the night. We were also reminded why Pink is not just a Covergirl, but Superwoman. Yes - completely lame that her team couldn't come up with a new concept from last year's show (or her tours, for that matter); but no less amazing to see her sing live (and so, so well) while hanging upside down from a bed sheet. To then watch her flow effortlessly into "Just Give Me A Reason" with Nate Ruess, hitting her notes with such precision and ease, makes me wonder whether she has bionic lungs. 

Keith Urban may be "a little bit country," and Gary Clark Jr. may be "a little bit rock and roll;" but they're both insanely talented guitar players. And if your ears and eyes didn't perk up during their solo, you're, well, a little bit stupid. Carole King and Sara Bareilles were also a perfect match, with their mash-up of King's "Beautiful" and Bareilles' "Brave." 

Now for the bad news. It's become obvious that the Grammy's are trying WAY too hard to pair artists and mix genres in hopes of fabricating a "Grammy moment" or "make history." Yet, that's exactly what the Academy is accomplishing - a fabrication. It is painfully forced and contrived, robbing viewers of the organic experience one desires from a live show. The quintessential illustration of this awkwardness was Miranda Lambert and Billie Joe Armstrong's homage to Phil Everly with "When Will I Be Loved." The harmonies were fine and the song is a classic, but it just didn't work. The same can be said for Chicago and Robin Thicke (although I liked each of their performances individually) and Metallica and Lang Lang. Alternatively, I was pleased with the collaboration between Imagine Dragons and Kendrick Lamar.

My biggest let-downs, by far, were Beyonce and Jay Z, and Lorde. Perhaps my great expectations are to blame. But what in the name of single ladies were Bey and her hub thinking by opening the show with "Drunk In Love?" Anything - I mean ANYTHING - would have been better than that, and I'm not even referring to the fact that they tried to procreate a sibling for Blue on national television. I suppose, in hindsight, it set the tone for a four-hour "What is going on?" moment. As for Lorde, meh. Epic disappointment. And while this is certainly not a fashion blog, I feel as though I'd lose credibility if I didn't at least acknowledge Katy Perry's witch costume. Did she buy it at Walgreen's? I mean, really. 

To end on a positive note, I'll say that I loved the Academy's use of amateur YouTube-esque covers to introduce nominees. I was also a huge fan of Kacey Musgraves, and it's not (entirely) because of her stank face. The most fun performance of the night was Pharell, Daft Punk and Stevie Wonder's rendition of "Get Lucky," despite its rocky start. Daft Punk's use of "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" and "Le Freak (Freak Out)" made the song even more infectious. It was the first time I saw everyone in the audience, old and young alike, get up on their feet and enjoy themselves. It even earned a peace sign from the ever-stylish Yoko Ono.

Grammy FUN.

I'll admit, I'm a sucker for sentiment. But when did opening monologues stop being funny? Understandably, LL Cool J had no opportunity for jokes at last year's ceremony, but spare us the sob story of your rise to the top and how we still don't know "the real you." Your "grammy" would be ashamed, and not just because of your insistence upon wearing paddy hats to possibly the biggest gig you've ever booked... twice. What I did find touching was his conclusion of the never-ending whitney-ism with the words  "And as your host, let me tell you all we are so happy to see you here." 

Are you listening, Rihanna? The 55th Annual Grammy Awards started off slow. Ed and Elton were all wrong for each other. Their harmonies were strange, their tones blended awkwardly and, at the risk of the glitter gods striking me for blasphemy, Elton added nothing to the otherwise "A-Team" performance. Also, is LL hard of hearing? It's SHEERAN, not Sharon. Jeez.

Now let's have some FUN. As a long-time fan of the boys (they're not actually a new artist, guys), I am always drawn to the quality and consistency of Nate Ruess' voice. I began to notice early on in the telecast that artists are trending away from the medleys that have dominated music award shows for the past decade and back toward showcasing their singing chops via one solid song. I'd just like to go on the record and say, I'm into it.

My favorites of the night? Miguel and Wiz Khalifa's collabo on "Adorn," although I'm still not sure if that was a performance or award presentation. Mumford and Sons (if you read my latest post, you know where this is going) were, at the risk of sounding ig'nant, amaze-balls. I'm obviously biased, but how could anyone with even a fractional use of their five senses find them to be anything but that? 

A question: If I direct HOV to "get out [his] seat," will he do it? Who said stars can't take direction!? So incredibly badass of Jay-Z, by the way, to hold on to his liquor for as long as he could before his presence in the performance proved absolutely necessary. Maybe it's some kind of badass-by-association, but JT has never looked better. Marriage clearly suits him (get it? "suits" him?). While he employed the high register and hip thrusts we all know and love, the strategic song duo served as a preview of his new album, making apparent his transition from pop to R&B. 

Other faves of mine include the Maroon 5/Alicia Keys live mash-up, the Bob Marley tribute (although Rihanna was obviously there for visual enhancement), the Lumineers and the In Memoriam rendition of "The Weight." It will surprise very few that I actually "yippee-d" aloud the moment i heard the first bar and spotted Zac Brown. That reaction was propelled by the great Mavis Staples and Brittany Howard (a-la Alabama Shakes). What a way to go...

While the tribute came in a close second, my absolute best performance of the night was, hands-down, Jack White. Thanks, Jack, for ditching Meg and going a few shades darker. Too far? My biggest disappointment of the night? Frank Ocean. Bombarded by the "is Frank Ocean overrated?" statuses this morning via social media, I stand by my man. You'd be nervous too making your Grammy debut amongst your idols and peers... and Chris Brown. You'll kill it next time, Forrest. 

Lovers of the Light

It's hard to imagine that, only three short years ago, Mumford and Sons was struggling to finance their own recordings, borrowing instruments if they could, trekking around small venues in the UK and US. Fast forward to Wednesday night, where even an inaudible word uttered under Marcus Mumford's breath could silence a crown of 18,000 hipsters. 

Admittedly nervous of the obvious challenges facing a predominantly bluegrass/folk band in such a massive space, it's the understatement of the century to say that I was pleasantly surprised. While the seating capacity is almost identical to New York City's famous MSG, I found the venue exceptionally and simultaneously awe-inspiring and intimate. On second thought, maybe that was just Marcus. Hmm. TBD. 

Similar to my views on the previews before a movie, I hate missing the opening acts. I've stumbled upon some amazing bands that way (I also feel badly for the openers playing to half empty stadiums). Last night's openers, however, felt no shortage of love from Mumford's loyal subjects, although my affection was less abundant. Having seen Ben Howard in the cozy Cake Shop-esque setting of New York's Webster Hall, I was equally concerned that his grandeur would be lost amongst the bright lights of Brooklyn. Au contraire mon ami. My only complaint was that his set was entirely too short, singing a few familiars to start, introducing one new song and finishing with fan-favorite "Only Love." While a cynic may be tempted to attribute Ben's spell upon the crowd to the state-of-the-art acoustics of the Barclays, I assure you The Felice Brothers dispelled that theory with the first strums of their guitars. Oh well. I was grateful for the opportunity to grab a square from L&B's and another Heineken. 

As one may expect, although the "everybody's doing it" mentality all but precludes my agitation for the practice, Mumford and Sons took the stage just after 10pm. Fine by me, as the proceeding 105 minutes were, well, life-changing. The band played "Babel," "I Will Wait" and "Lover of the Light" early on, bringing each of the 18,000 concert-goers to their leather-booted feet. Other notables include the instrumental leading up to "Thistle & Weeds," "Ghosts That We Knew," "Awake My Soul," "Below My Feet," and, of course, "Little Lion Man." When the boys were up, the energy was almost uncontainable. When they were down, you could hear a pin drop. Marcus Mumford exudes rock and roll stature in his every move -- rotating instruments with ease and pulling out his ear pieces in one swift, hasty movement just before reaching a song's poignant moment. Perhaps it is this almost supernatural command over the crowd that has managed to carry the boys from anonymity to the world's biggest selling rock band in record time. 

A final comment on the visuals. Even the most jaded New Yorker from Times Square would have been impressed with the lights strung across the stadium, changing color per song in perfect sync. The vibrant stage complimented the four stark, documentary-style black and white jumbo screens directly above it. The boys' seamless transition into a straight row by the end of almost every song illustrated a chilling "united we stand" motif. After all, the other boys deserve some face time too. 

The icing on the cake were Marcus' praises of New York crowds, admitting that he only has one friend in New York. I find that hard to believe, but on the off-chance that it's true (and that Marcus Mumford is reading), I know where they keep the good pizza. (Wink wink). Mumford and Sons is playing the Barclays again this coming Tuesday ... ya know, if you happen to have a first-born child to spare on a ticket. 

SON of Anarchy

Are you a "Sons of Anarchy" fan? Yeah, me neither. But I am a fan of the show's soundtracking. More accurately stated, I am OBSESSED with Joshua James. Combining elements of Bob, Amos and Ray (and bearing a strange resemblance to Jared Leto), Joshua personifies a manifestation of all my favorite men. His late 2012 release, From the Top of Willamette Mountain, provides an intense aural experience -- and his first single, "Queen of the City," is, well, nothing short of an "aur-gasm." 

Hardly a rookie, Utah's Joshua James has been at it for almost a decade, opening North American tours for notables like John Mayer, Ani DiFranco and Third Eye Blind, among others. While his first single exemplifies an edgier rock sound, the majority of the album builds upon the folky gospel vibe so prominent in his earlier work. Regardless of the genre, the content is always consistent: the stuff of great blues -- drinking, drugs and deities. My favorites on this album are too abundant to name. Do yourself a favor and just buy the entire album; it will be the best $9.99 you spend this year. If you're feeling particularly spendy, add his Build Me This (including "Coal War," below) to your cart. 

http://www.joshuajames.tv/

Won't you be their Neighbour?

While clearly influenced by its home state's summer vibe, The Neighbourhood's EP I'm Sorry is anything but seasonal. The California quintet is brand spankin' new, with the May 2012 release its first (hopefully, of many). 

I know what you're thinking, but The Neighborhood isn't your typical collection of West Coast misfits with "pumped up kicks" trying to surf its way onto your iTunes with tired indie beats. Rather, front man Jesse Rutherford's experience in heavy metal bands and hip hop groups since the age of 13 give The Neighbourhood its obvious edge. Of his influence, Rutherford says "It happens very naturally, when I write while I am rapping over the melody." With this combination of pop, rock, hip hop and music videos that pay homage to film noir, the boys have earned a Neighourhood watch.  

You may recognize the band's first single, "Sweater Weather," although it was undoubtedly underplayed in most summer 2012 rotations. That video, as well as my other favorite "Female Robbery," are below for your viewing pleasure. 

My New York friends: if you like what you hear, the band is playing two shows mid-January. What's even more exciting than that? A ticket to see the band will cost its "hoodlums" less than their cab fares at an astonishing $12 a pop. Click here for more info. 

http://thenbhd.com/

Know(les) it all

Finally, a Knowles I can stomach. Stuck in the role of "little sister" to glamazon Beyonce Knowles, Solange's accomplishments may seem to have gone unacclaimed and unnoticed. At the ripe ol' age of 26, however, she has released two albums with major labels, been signed by Next Model Management, been nominated for Celebrity DJ of the Year by The Golden Spin Awards, appeared in several films and television shows, and been honored by the American Society of Culture Critics for her contributions to music and fashion. Chew on that, big sis. She's also gotten married, had a child, and been divorced. But I'm not sure that fits into the "accomplishment" category.

 

Her latest release, EP True, is the first EP for the singer and her first release under the indie label Terrible Records. Consider it an amuse-bouche to the artist's third studio album, currently in progress. In any case, don't fret -- the first single off True should tide you over. Solange has finally discovered her sound. Who would believe that her sound ended up being a revisit to eighties new wave? Call me an '80's baby all you want -- I'm into it. Lucky for us, she not only found her sound, she lost her pants. With legs like hers, you won't hear me complaining. I just wonder how the locals of Cape Town felt about it...

 

True is available digitally as of November 27th and set for CD/vinyl release on January 8th.

 

Happy New Year all. May 2013 bring you sweet love and great music.

 

http://www.solangemusic.com/

Happy 40th, AMA's.

Sure, it's no Grammys. But after 40 years, the American Music Awards has undeniably made an impression on the industry's landscape. Following the format of 2012's Grammys, the telecast was reminiscent of an IHeartRadio concert, sporadically interjected by the presentation of an award. Strange, considering each category showcased only three artists (are we running out of nominees?). The direct result? A show lacking the drama, substance and wardrobe malfunctions we all anxiously await with our thumbs on the "pause" button of our DVR remotes. An indirect result? A very happy Music Chik. 

As Julie Andrews once sang, the beginning is "a very good place to start." Apparently, the AMA's thought that a good place for Usher as well. I disagree. At the ripe ol' age of 34, Usher struggled to get through the middle of his montage, running out of steam enough to prompt the back tracks on the last leg. Similarly, seeing Ryan Seacrest from the "get-go" almost made the AMA's a "no-go" for me like, say, every New Year's Eve special, Top 40 countdown or red carpet pre-show hosted by the media mogul. Appropriate given his involvement in pop music but predictably bland in his presentation.

I feel compelled to organize my thoughts by way of "hits" and "misses," and in the spirit of tradition, I'll give you the bad news first. The "Everyday Birthday" dedication made by Swizz Beatz, Chris Brown and Ludacris was, well, ludicrous. Talk about a gag gift. Pitbull's performance was (pun intended) the icing on the stale, dry cake. The biggest disappointment for me, however, was Kesha's rendition of "Die Young" -- not because she gave a lackluster or talentless performance (eh-swizz beatz-hem) -- but because she is better than that. What many may not realize is that, underneath all that "garbage glam," is some legitimate vocal talent. Don't believe me? If Kesha had sung it this way, absent the naked men, fishnets and stage-floor gyrations, you would. 

Now for the good news. I have a newfound respect for (and teenage girl crush on) The Wanted after their performance of "I Found You."  Nathan Sykes' rock star-worthy solo blew my socks off (to put it PG) and threw The Wanted to the top of my wish list. Santa, can you hear me? See for yourself... 

As for the rest of Sunday's pro's, I'll put it simply. Pink showcased her insane post-baby bod, athleticism and grace, and thoughtfulness in her artistic expression, albeit a bit vividly for an internationally syndicated telecast. I was pleasantly surprised by Taylor Swift's non-acoustic, sans-peasant dress performance, as well as Justin Bieber's stool-set ballad intro. What's the lesson here? Think outside the box and keep people guessing (regarding your performance choices, not your posse choices). 

On a final note, Stevie Wonder's Dick Clark dedication was the highlight of the evening; that is, until the finale. Who could dream that the most glamorous and talented (I use those terms loosely) musicians of our generation could all look so ridiculous at the same time (besides every female songstress who thought a Beyonce bodysuit mandatory)? That, my friend, is truly the definition of "too legit to quit."