Most people associate the Grammys with a big, live telecast event, where all of the freaks and weirdoes and blow-up doll pop stars (Hi, T-Swift!!!) of the Industry come out to celebrate drugs, deviant sex, their own stupid fashion choices, oh yeah and “the best” “artists” in the recording biz. But did you know that while only like 12 awards are broadcast via the watchful gaze of the creepy CBS Eye, there are actually like 1,298 Grammy categories which the Academy doles out each year???
Last night, I took advantage of the press pass given to me by The Impersonals–it appears to have been cut from a cereal box, which had previously been resolutely rejected by pretty much everyone except for the White House press corps. I made my way down to the Beverly Hills La Quinta so that I could attend the 32nd Annual Non-Televisted Grammy Awards Bash, hosted by Montel Jordan and hologram Dick Clark. This is an elegant party attended by talented, hardworking recording professionals who nobody cares or talks about, but amongst themselves they are a really big deal!
I was very excited to meet all of the contemporary Christian ska bands, improvised jazz soloists, and children’s rappers who were nominated for Non-Televised Grammys this year, no matter how weird they all smelled! I settled down at my press table, next to colleagues from esteemed publications such as Guitar Pick Monthly Digest and Police Blotter Daily, and took in a night of fantastic entertainment and recognition of some of the freaking weirdest sound dudes on the planet!
We miss you Whitney! Especially whenever we see a gospel singer get the coke sweats!
6:21PM – the show gets off to a late start, with Gospel Record of the Year nominees ????? (I did not catch anyone’s names at this event) delivering a stellar performance of their Grammy nominated hit. They just seemed so full of love and Christ and cocaine, and it really kicked the night off in a good way. All the good singing and gospel music and cocaine sweats really made people miss Whitney in a major way.
6:48PM – The award for Best Regional Roots Album is given out to some Hawaiian band. Sadly, only 4 of the 15 members fit on the stage :\
New Age music: a place to seek refuge from dealing with Gary’s bitch wife.
7:01PM - The groupie-turned wife of a certain infamous Best Contemporary New Age White Folk Recording nominee is heard loudly chastising her husband for eating the main course (tilapia tacos). “Jesus, GARY,” she chastises, “just because it’s free catered fish does make it FREEGAN. You cop out on your values almost as much as you cop out on sex.” She just keeps berating this poor guy. It sounds like New Age music is on the verge of having their very Chris Brown!
7:49PM – The winner of Sexiest Children’s Album Cover is overcome with joy and wets himself on stage. It becomes readily apparent that the “happy go-lucky” children’s folk music hero is actually mentally-disabled puppet controlled by his greedy handlers. I can’t believe stay-at-home moms take their bras off for this guy at his concerts!
“You have to respect chamber music! Our parents paid a lot of money for us to go to weird, expensive schools!”
8:33PM – I suddenly realize the live performance by the Best Chamber Music Group nominees has been going on for over 20 minutes, and somehow this has caused my face entire to go numb. I call my mom and tell her I love her and that what is happening to me is worse than being trapped in the Twin Towers. Chamber music only makes sense to me if you’re a frog and you’re listening to it in the forest while you poop.
9:23 PM – the next three categories are sponsored by Ambien – Best Classical Traditional Pop Solo, Best Original Soft Rock Instrumental, and Best Improvised Long Form Jazz Solo. Cocktail waitresses or maybe La Quinta maids came around the tables and pass around free sleeping aids, and suddenly the night becomes pleasantly tolerable, as if a sleepy-time narcotic butterfly stung me in the eyes…
The cover of Davy Crockett’s Best Historical Album nominated LP, “Crocksucker.”
11:51 PM – holy fuck how long have I have I been asleep and how the hell are these awards still going and where are my pants? Wait, did they just give away an award for Best Historical Album? Really? Didn’t I just make that shit up this week? Are Mumford and the Sons here???
1241AM – holy fuck Mumford and the Sons ARE here! All of the Confederate hipsters are here because they were nominated for Best Americana Album. I am so drunk that I can’t tell if I should give them a piece of my Civil War Wave -hating mind or if I should just post for a pic and ask for an autograph…
Children were long excluded from participating in Grammy performances, until Michael Jackson finally died.
1:18AM – I know there is a Taco Bell by this La Quinta, because it is calling my name and whispering psychic directions to me. But how the hell can I sneak out of here during a performance by a group nominated for Best Inspirational Pop Vocal By an Elementary School Choir? I will look like SUCH an asshole if I leave during their soaring rendition of “Party Rock Anthem.”
2:41AM – Wait did Ambien sponsor another series of categories? Why am I having trouble remembering everything? Where are my pants? Are you my dad? Wait, you’re ZZ Top’s touring sound engineer? Well, do you wanna be my dad?
3:23AM – I begin faking seizures as they announce nominees for Best Contemporary Asian-Pacific Opera & Hip-Hop Collaboration, Non-Classical. I just cannot take it any more. I did not sign up for this shit. I don’t care if the state takes away my driver’s license for life because I have fake epilepsy. I NEED OUT OF HERE.
A photo that proves I should never have talked shit about Esperanza Spalding.
4:01AM – While waiting in an insanely long line for a cab, I am approached by some random chick smoking a cigarette, lingering in the shadows, and coming at me with a really negative attitude.
“Do you know who I am?” she snarls. “No,” I reply nervously. She steps confidently out of the shadows and strides toward me. “I am Esperanza Spalding, bitch. 2013 Grammy nominee for Best Traditional Jazz Album Packaging. You might remember me from the time you made fun of me in your stupid Grammy blog earlier this week?”
“Wow, Esperanza,” I suddenly exclaim, all sassy-like. “You are leaving the party before they even hand out your Non-Televised Grammy? A Grammy nomination that nobody on earth paid any attention to? Even though you were BEST NEW ARTIST only TWO years ago? I am ABSOLUTELY SHOCKED!!”
Then I cackled a whole bunch as I stole her cab. Esperanza Spalding screamed some kind of curse at me as I sped away.
Best Non-Televised Grammys Ever!!!!!!!!!
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