The Grammys for People Who Could Give F*ck-All About the Grammys
Including mathematical proof that "today's music" is vastly inferior to just about everything.
For those of you who wisely eschew award shows and consequently have no idea what I’m talking about, the 64th Annual Grammys ceremony was held just a few days ago at MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas.
Nothing in life will make you feel older and more out of touch with our nation’s music and youth culture than the Grammys.
I have no idea who any of these people are. No one looks older than twelve. Half-hoping a Grammy winner would pull a Will Smith and punch a presenter in the face, I watched for as long as I could (not long), putting Wikipedia on speed-dial so I could get data on all these new faces: Doja Cat, Olivia Rodrigo, SZA (pronounced SIZ-ah), Gunna, Saweetie, Young Thug, H.E.R.
Seems like there’s a new crop every year, and their musical bona fides get increasingly murky. A person might even entertain uncharitable thoughts like the ones I was having where I doubted that even half these people had touched an acoustic instrument once in their lives. It would appear that with samplers, synthesizers, an electric keyboard, and autotune, anybody—and I mean anybody—with the right surgeries, a vast social media platform, and a peppery attitude can achieve rockstar status.
I’ve been reluctant to cast aspersions (that’s “diss” for you under-thirties) on contemporary music, mostly because oldsters like me have a long storied tradition of hating everything their kids listen to. That’s why I want to officially state for the record that I could be, and am likely to be, wrong about everything I say here. That my aging ears might actually be incapable of detecting merit in the music of singers like professional plagiarist Ed Sheeran or multi-hyphenate rappers (kid-speak for artists that rightly or delusionally believe they are professional-caliber talents in more than one area), such as Puerto Rican artist and WWE wrestler/rope diver, Bad Bunny.
In other words, I’m trying very very hard not to be as out-of-touch and bitchy as I feel. What are the odds that will go well?
See, here’s the deal. Fuddy-duddies like Yours Truly here believe that people who call themselves musicians should, you know, actually play an instrument. Real singers shouldn’t need autotune to help them stay on pitch. Music is so much more than the digital Pablum produced by studio-grade sound boards and mixers. It ought to be played by actual people who’ve marshalled the discipline and focus to master an instrument, not people who know how to rotate a bunch of knobs.
I get that it takes technical know-how to work a music program on a computer, but it doesn’t take discipline. You don’t have to give up girls for a year or two and eat nothing but Ramen in order to master sick guitar licks in your basement. Now, all you have to do is press ON, wait for your computer to boot up, and then you can go to town trying to imitate the beats you hear on the radio by tapping your drum machine, or just bogart prerecorded samples (why waste time?) which is why almost everything I hear these days sounds like everything else. It’s tinny, over-processed, and derivative.
All power to Britney Spears and her new emancipation, but let’s face it, the girl can’t sing.
A shocking number of megawatt artists don’t come from “the streets” anymore. They come from YouTube and Instagram.
Take singer/songwriter Billie Eilish. She and her brother Finneas O’Connell dominate the music scene. He plays the piano and guitar with professional proficiency. She can barely strum a few chords on the ukulele. He’s the “talented, song-writing one”; she’s moody teenager Billie Eilish. Her iconic emo/slacker aesthetic? That’s a cultivated persona, her purposefully un-glamorous “brand” designed to make Eilish feel more relatable to a young audience. That look didn’t come about organically. She was packaged and delivered by handlers. You can see it in the way they dress her (body-concealing puffer jacket/artfully grimy track pants/hair-in-the-face). You can see it in her music videos (“See? I get nose bleeds, too. I’m a real person. I’m just like you guys.”)
At some point, Eilish will get too old to sulk-sing angsty lyrics on a music video set, and if she hasn’t hopelessly vandalized herself with drugs and alcohol by then, she’ll be “re-branded” by her music label, either as a redemption story (back from the dead) or a rediscovery story (“Look who we found!”) after years of dwindling into obscurity.
Americans consume music. When you’re part of that industry, you get consumed, too. Like French fries.
In contrast to Eilish’s anti-glamor, we have glitter artists like Doja Cat, who also doesn’t play a musical instrument. Doja has a fun personality (actual Tweet: “Somebody told me to look excited today and it made me want to fill their home with roaches.”)
She dropped out of eleventh grade to record songs on a software program called GarageBand and then post them to SoundCloud. Her earliest hit single, “Moo,” recorded in a single afternoon, is the stuff dreams are made of. Here’s the video, which is well worth watching, and then I’ve taken the liberty of posting the lyrics to “Moo” below that, just in case you want to sing along. Keep in mind, she won a Grammy.
Cheeky and insouciant? Or a sign of End Times?
Moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo
Moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo, moo
YeahBitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
I'm not a cat, I don't say meow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cowI go moo (I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow)
Moo (I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow)
Moo (I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow)
Moo (I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow, I'm a cow)
Yeah, I said, bitch, I'm too smooth, I'm not in the mood
Tryna make moves, tryna make moves
Bitch, I'm too smooth, I'm not in the mood
Tryna make moves, tryna make movesGot milk, bitch? Got beef? (Got beef?)
Got steak, hoe? Got cheese? (Got it)
Grade A, hoe, not lean (Not lean)
Got me A.1. Sauce please
These heifers got nothin' on me
Stakes high, need a side of collard greens (Collard greens)
Cash rules everything around me (Everything around me)
Ice cream, ice cream (Ice cream)You a calf, bitch, you my daughter (You my daughter)
I ain't bothered (I ain't bothered), get slaughtered (Get slaughtered)
Got the methane, I'm a farter (Woo)
With my farmer (Woo), MacDonald (Woo)
And he feed me real good, it's a honor (It's a honor)
Philly cheesesteak all in that order (In that order)
Chili cheese fries as a starter (As a starter)
Got the steroids keeping me stronger (Keep me strong)Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
I'm not a cat, I don't say meow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cowBitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow, bitch, I'm a cow
Bitch, I'm a cow (Yeah), bitch, I'm a cowOld MacDonald had a farm
I give him a titty, tryna keep him calm
I'm just tryna turn up in the country
I ain't in the city 'cause they ain't got lawns
Suck a nigga dick or somethin', E-I-O
Shittin' on these bitches only thing I know
Tippin' on his dick, I see the chickens and the pigs
They wanna catch us ridin' dirty with them fiends, I knowI ain't a moose, bitch, get out my hay
Get out my hay, bitch, get out my hay
I ain't a moose, bitch, get out my hay
Get out my hay, bitch, get out my hay
I ain't a moose, bitch, get out my hay
Get out my hay, get out my hay
I ain't a moose, bitch, get out my hay
Get out my hay, bitch, get out my hayMilkshake brings all the boys to the farm
And they're like, it's better than yours
Damn right, it's better than yours
I can treat you, but I have to charge
My milkshake brings all the boys to the farm
And they're like, it's better than yours
Damn right, it's better than yours
I can treat you, but I have to chargeI want a cheeseburger, fucking vegans
Moo, Moo
Moo
And now, my point. Here’s how I am able to scientifically prove that the quality of music has discernibly deteriorated over the last ten years, culminating in “musicians” that are actually products made up out of whole cloth by record labels.
I give you singer Michael McDonald. Here is a man who can actually play guitar and keyboards, in addition to singing. Real singing. Not only without an autotune, but with a genuine understanding of how to pitch his voice and read music.
Watch this. It will blow your mind.
And who can forget Elton John in the days before he agreed to play at one of Rush Limbaugh’s weddings? His long-term collaboration with lyricist Bernie Taupin produced some of the finest music of the seventies and eighties. Here’s a clip of Sir Elton playing the piano and singing (without autotune, of course) followed by the lyrics to his song “Curtains.”
Compare and contrast:
I used to know this old scarecrow
He was my song
My joy and sorrow
Cast alone between the furrows
Of a field
No longer sown by anyone
I held a dandelion
That said the time had come
To leave upon the wind
Not to return
When summer burned the earth again
Oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
Cultivate the freshest flower
This garden ever grew
Beneath these branches
I once wrote
Such childish words for you
But that's okay
There's treasure children always seek to find
And just like us
You must have had
A once upon a time
Oh-oh-oh
Oh-oh-oh-oh
I truly believe that art is a reflection of life. The young are hardly to be blamed for the bleakness and nihilism that loom over their horizons. Most Americans between the ages of 18-34 live at home now. More than at any time since the Great Depression. What do they care about talent or “real” music or playing an instrument?
“It’s all a scam,” my Zoomer daughter once told me. “Nobody cares about talent anymore. It’s about fame, any way you can get it. What’s real? What’s fake? Why would anyone even bother making those distinctions?”
So what does that mean for dinosaurs comme moi? More fungible booty Barbies like Megan Thee Stallion, Cardi B, Doja Cat, Nicki Minaj. More anemic, microwave-ready rappers like Tyga, Bad Bunny, and Travis Scott, all pretending to be transgressive edge-lords but actually being stoned dimwits.
It’s not to say I hate all their music. I don’t. Some of it is listenable and/or amusing. But these are YouTube creations being marketed to you as musicians. That’s the part that puts my back up.
One of the great sayings of Texas: “Don’t piss down my leg and tell me it’s raining.”
I know you’ve got thoughts, and I want to hear them. Flame me in the comments section below.
Copyright © 2022 Stacey Eskelin
"I’m trying very very hard not to be as out-of-touch and bitchy as I feel. What are the odds that will go well?" -- let's start with the fact that I'm old enough to be your biological father.
<word elided because even with the happy smiling emojis it will likely be viewed as inappropriate.> (<-- that's still supposed to be funny ... )
I like Billie Eilish. She has a smokey, "torch song" sense to her voice that is even older than I am. I would lose my shit if she ever did "Begin The Beguine" (which is WAY older than I am.)
Per electronic instruments: You know, people probably damned the harpsichord because it wasn't a real instrument. (A real instrument is one where the strings are plucked by human fingers.) And don't get me started on that "piano" shit ... (almost as bad as that "printing press" thing.)
Stefani Germanotta, known professionally as "Lady Gaga", is an exceptional pianist and composer. I never cared for the "clown suits and circus acts" (my term), but there was scarcely ever any denying her talent. Seeing the music video of "Edge of Glory" vs her almost solo performances at the keyboard is pretty amazing. (And the music video, which I really like, includes Clarence Clemens from the E Street Band (more in a moment). But the difference between triumph and barely holding it together is stunning.)
I can't get into rap, and I can't get into bluegrass. But did you know there is a synthesis of the two? (Gangstagrass.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAffMSpW8KMhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAffMSpW8KM
If everybody sounded like Beethoven, Beethoven would sound like shit. And I cannot abide Bartok.
That said, I still mostly listen to Springsteen, to instrumentals that come with no movie, to new folk, and a fair piece of metal. (Remind me some time, when you've space for 3 hours of stupefaction, and I'll send you the link to the "soundtrack" I assembled for my novel.)
Thank you for the Britney Spears comment! I have never, ever, ever understood how she was the superstar and Christina Aguilera was looked at as the step down. Only one of them can sing, and it's not Britney. And not many singers, past or present, have the range of Christina.