Just About Nothing Makes Me Feel Older Than The Grammy Awards

If you’re in your teens or twenties, you will have no idea what I’m going to be talking about and you think I’m just a doddering old fart going off on some rant again. (Well, yeah, I am, but…)

If you’re older than 30, you’re starting to get hints of what I mean. You probably still listen to the radio stations that are playing the music that’s at the top of the pop charts, at least, some of the time. But maybe that “classic rock” station playing stuff from the 1980’s is sounding better every day. Occasionally you’re in the mood for some country, but you don’t let your friends catch you listening to it.

If you’re closer to 60 than to 50 and you care at all about music, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You have become your parents!

You want to watch the Grammy Awards because you have always watched them. It was about the music and the music was a huge part of your life. It still is! You would sit back for a long evening of great live performances and see if one of your favorite bands or artists won. U2. Don Henley. Metallica. Green Day. Bruce Springsteen. Aerosmith. Madonna. Pink Floyd. Genesis. The Doobie Brothers. The Eagles. Stevie Wonder. Led Zeppelin. THE BEATLES!

Now you see the article in the Sunday paper about what a show it’s going to be with tonight. There’s lots of speculation as to who’s going to win. And you might recognize one in twenty of the artists nominated. Maybe. One in freakin’ twenty!

This is how reality sneaks up on you, grabs you by the lapels, and bitch slaps you. Twice. Because it can.

It helps if you have kids, particularly if you raised them right and they’re as enthusiastic about music as you are. My kids have been exposed to enough of my generation’s music to listen to Pink Floyd, The Eagles, Phil Collins, and so on. But they also have helped me stay in touch with pop music as it’s left me behind.

Because of my daughter, I saw more N’Sync concerts than I care to admit in the late 1990’s. On the other hand, I remember one year at the Rose Bowl when Pink was a total unknown who got a break and was their opening act. The teeny boppers ignored her and were screaming for Justin, Lance, Chris, Joey, and JC (no, I didn’t have to go look up their names – I told you, I went to a LOT of their concerts) but I thought that Pink was pretty good and might go somewhere.

Because of my son, I got exposed to a lot of rock from the early 2000’s, such as Muse and Bare Naked Ladies. We even went to Muse in concert at The Fabulous Forum a few years ago. (The same place I saw Led Zeppelin in the mid-1970’s.) I don’t remember which kid first got me hooked on Linkin Park, but I really love their albums. They have a lot of really good anger and passion.

Despite all of that, for the last couple of years, The Long-Suffering Wife and I have looked at the Grammy lineup and not seen a single pop or rock (i.e., non-country) artist that we recognized. And we have felt old.

This year I’m watching again. Perhaps the last couple of years have been a wakeup call, but I have paid more attention to pop and rock music this year.

The internet helps. Put down social media if you wish, but through that I’ve got people I respect (John Scalzi, for one) telling me I should give a listen to Daft Punk. My kids have badgered me (thank you!) until I looked at the videos for Macklemore & Ryan Lewis. Someone else recommended Bruno Mars and I liked what I saw there, lots of energy. I heard a lot of good things about Justin Timberlake’s new album (hey, he looks a lot like one of those N’Snyc guys!) and Pink seems to have done alright after that long ago tour opening for Justin and the boys.

On the flip side, you couldn’t avoid hearing about Robin Thicke and “Blurred Lines” after that spectacle with Miley Cyrus. I’m pretty sure that I hadn’t ever heard that song before then, but after I saw the outrage over the lyrics of the song and the way it refers to women, it wasn’t hard to root hard for ANYONE to win except for him.

So I’m watching, trying to let the music make me feel young and energetic like it should. Some of it does. Some of it makes me hear my father’s words coming out of my mouth. He was talking about The Beatles and The Who and Jethro Tull. I was talking about rap. Seriously, not to sound like a prude (I’m not), if they have to bleep out two out of every three words, why bother to put it on television to begin with? Why?

Anyway. I’m enjoying the show for the most part. I actually have heard of about 2/3 of the nominees this year. That’s progress.

Then they go and put Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr on stage together and while that’s really awesome, wouldn’t it be nice if John and George were there as well? (No, I didn’t have to go look up any of their names either! Shut up!) Earlier they showed Aerosmith and they really, really look old. (Granted, there might be extenuating circumstances there.) And really, Black Sabbath is still performing and winning awards? Where’s my well-worn vinyl copy of “Masters of Reality?” It’s got to be around here somewhere.

At least I don’t have to use one of those fold-up, aluminium walkers with tennis balls on the feet to get over to the record player.

Yet.