Watching awards shows for me is like watching porn; my running verbal commentary has the potential to ruin the pleasure of the performance. I can’t help but notice things that have nothing to do with the action, like say Elton John and Lady Gaga. I thought about how hard it must be to keep a “Poker Face” sitting across the piano from Mr. “Tiny Dancer” Himself; doesn’t she want to “Just Dance”? I felt her gooseflesh when Elton sang to her “how wonderful life is with Gaga in the world”. For a moment I was speechless, and then I was waylaid by the prospect of Sir Elton John taking a step or two wearing those diamond studded blinders. I had to shut my eyes against the imminent fashion disaster.

“How does she dance in those things?” I marveled when Beyonce got up to perform in six-inch heels, and then she stumbled on the stairs. She must have figured she was safer on the ground, because she ended up on all fours with her hair stuck in her lip-gloss. I bought it. I even pulled a few dollar bills out of my back pocket.

I applauded the Michael Jackson inspired soldier boys behind her for the intro of “If I Were a Boy”. I thought it was a much more fitting acknowledgment to the King of Pop than the disneyfied 3D version of “Earth Song”. Maybe if I’d had the glasses…

I thought the Dave Mathews tribute to fallen band member LeRoi Moore was much more heartfelt and celebratory, and I don’t even like Dave Mathews.

I have to admit I was turned off by the creepy parading of MJ’s kids on stage to accept the lifetime achievement award. It reminded me of his twisted kiss with then wife Lisa Marie Presley at the 1994 MTV Video Music Awards. Both left the bad taste of exploitation in my mouth.

Taylor Swift reminds me of a little baby bird with those skinny little limbs and that off key warble. I don’t care what the industry people say, I love that song about the nerdy girl crush, and I loved that Oliver Twist looking dude rocking out on the banjo.

I wonder if Stevie Nicks was rolling her eyes? Who cares? So Rihanna was a little cringe inducing, Stevie looks and sounds the same as she did thirty years ago. Rock on gold dust woman.

So back to the porn analogy, as tasteless as it may be, even I can shut up and just enjoy it sometimes, which is exactly what I did when Pink stripped down and threw herself into the air like “a fistful of glitter”. Hanging upside down, soaking wet, she didn’t miss a note, but she didn’t take home a Grammy either.

Okay I can’t help myself, but I bet there were a bunch of pissed off people in thousands of dollars of hair and makeup and designer clothes using napkins to absorb stray drops of water and cursing her out. I hope for Pink that was enough of a reward.

Smokie Lanark

To contact Smokie Lanark email: jezebel1974@gmail.com