The Assassination of Stevie Nicks
02 February 2010, 06.05 | Posted in Uncategorized |
Last night, by the time I reached my breaking point, GG had already rebuked me several times for ragging on the Grammy Awards telecast. I like and loathe celebrity in equal parts, and nothing makes me happier than heckling Jon Bon Phony while I sit here surfing the net on my new iPad that a designer friend at Apple gave me.
Joking. So anyway, I was busy armchair disrupting the ceremony, when I loudly observed that Ringo Starr’s leather-skinned wife looked like “an ancient burn victim” that had been “discovered in those bogs outside of Pompeii.” With that, GG gave up and wandered off. I have a way of outlasting a person’s expectations of me. You seem surprised.
Many of my opinions of the Grammys come with a grain of salt because I loathe most of today’s popular music. I likewise hate what the music industry has become: a purely numbers-based financial institution bent on stapling fiscal expectations and a timer to musical genius and trying to bind its feet, and force it into narrow little boxes, so the people who are bossing around the people who are stocking it across from boys underpants and Scott’s Turf Builder, don’t have to actually think about who might benefit from more exposure.
If it takes an artist two albums to find his or her voice, they will be cast out, but not before being forced to “pay back” all that stupid money the company spent on the video that went nowhere. And it’s out of that fertile soil that budding gay cricket Justin Bieber has emerged.
I thought that the awards went, more or less, to the right folks, with two glaring exceptions: 1) Diane Birch clearly should’ve been nominated and won the best new artist award; and 2) Lady Gaga deserved a couple of trophies. I mean, come on now.
Two hours in, I assumed that the worst was behind me when I saw Stevie Nicks come trudging onstage in the manner of a person walking to his or her own execution. She was there to duet with Taylor Swift, a really talented young lady whose music nevertheless has the gravitas of Josie & the Pussycats rockin’ at a slumber party in space, with Alexander the cat on the ones and twos.
But Stevie has done about a Taylor-Swift-and-a-half of cocaine in her lifetime. She has undoubtedly punched her share of men and women, been shacked up with a million-or-so ne’er-do-wells and has had more than a few handguns in that purse of hers, I reckon. She’s lived, man, and her songs stick to your ribs. Taylor Swift? Her last two boyfriends—Taylor Lautner and the middle Jonas kid—are prettier than most women I know.
Not to mention, Stevie was part of Fleetwood Mac, and co-wrote some killer, killer songs. The band’s best album, Rumours is on my short list of all-time great releases. At their musical peak, Stevie was right out front, wagging her finger and accusing guitarist/paramour Lindsey Buckingham of douchebaggery in virtually every song, most of which they actually wrote together. Watching a video of old Fleetwood Mac shows is like watching the Salem Witch Trials. With sultry keyboards.
Witnessing a true heavyweight forced to sing backup on a song about short skirts and lip-gloss was something that I will never forget. Why? Because it was so humiliating, it actually rendered me speechless, which could, in some circles, be seen as a good thing.
http://selectism.com/columns/tonyger...f-steve-nicks/