I never expected the Grammy’s to fuck up my personal life, but thanks to Justin Bieber, it has. I posted a picture of an oversized suit I bought last month from Zara (I know), and several people commented “Justin Bieber.” So today I googled “Justin Bieber suit” and to my horror found that he wore a similar suit on the red carpet. What a bastard. Do I have to take mine back now?? I don’t want to. I don’t want to lead a Bieber-directed life. Let him return his suit.
Other than that, the Grammy’s offered fewer insults to taste and intelligence than in recent years. It was quite a surprise. The grown-ups won several award that could have gone to some useless clowns. There were fewer rappers performing and more actual singers and musicians (yep, okay boomer, I get it, so don’t even bother.)
Olivia Rodrigo has become my most hated figure in pop, dethroning Taylor Swift, who must despise Olivia for muscling in on the My Boyfriend Was Mean territory. Olivia and Taylor both got implants, both have huge teeth, and both like to bleat instead of sing. But Olivia seems even more fake and awful somehow, turning to Doc Martens to signify her punky side. Just ew, Olivia. Every time she didn’t win something, I felt a surge of relief.
I also hate Doja Cat, for obvious reasons, but I was enchanted by her Grammy co-winner, a full-sized woman on crutches and wearing a naked dress with a long train, carried by a helpful Lady Gaga. If you didn’t see it, it was a Moment.
Sticking with Lady Gaga, she performed a sickening Jazz number, playing the role of a 50’s chanteuse to the hilt. I actually had to cover my face. Why can’t she just choose one persona, or, god forbid, just be an authentic and genuine person?
Billie Eilish turned out to be a real rockstar, even if it’s taken a lifetime of looking in her bedroom mirror to perfect the stance. I loved her head banging song, which contained the line You ruined everything good, a lyric for the ages, I feel.
H.E.R was fantastic as always, bringing aging sexpot Lenny Kravitz onstage for a dueling guitar solo, serving up real style and talent that everyone present seemed to appreciate. I want to know how Lenny can squat so effortlessly when I can barely get down to tie my shoe.
What else? Jon Batiste, whoever he is, gave an all-cylinders performance that ended with him jumping on a table, and later gave a beautiful acceptance speech celebrating art. I love it when someone seems like a great human being, even if they aren’t.
Lil Nas X was super gay and super hot, but he ruined things by adding Jack Harlow to the mix. Who the fuck is Jack Harlow and why do we need him?
Carrie Underwood turned out to have fabulous muscular legs, even though her song was stupid, so fabulous that I googled them and found her work-out regime. I’m not going to do it, by the way. But go look at those legs.
The Bieber performed an annoying emo song about peaches, and I was mad at him without even knowing about the suit insult to come. I would have been happy to just feel sorry for him, but now it’s war.
If I forgot something, let me know.
I didn’t know what to do with my 2022 Grammy fulminations. My kids don’t want to hear it. They wouldn’t watch awards shows if I paid them. This is the exegesis I sorely needed. Thank you.
Anna – My pleasure!