By the time the actual Grammys rolled around, I felt a little partied out from all the weird stuff happening that weekend (also, the Odd Future crew had been making a rowdy party music video in a room on our hotel floor until really late). The whole thing starts early, and it felt sillly getting sequined-up in the early afternoon.
The Grammys are held in the Staples Center, which feels like any sporting event stadium, except it's crawling with people in black-tie dress code standing next to corporate hamburger spots and nacho stands. But those places are closed and no actual food is available during the (REALLY, REALLY LONG) show and apparently people passing out is not all that uncommon. When I sat down in my plastic stadium chair, it crossed my mind that the invention of the clutch purse is a cruel joke... you can barely fit a phone in them! Worthless!
Important notes from the 2013 Grammys:
*Taylor Swift opened up the show with an elaborate all-white nightmare production of "We Are Never Getting Back Together," complete with dancing clowns. Meanwhile, her ex John Mayer was dressed like a game-show host in the audience with his new girlfriend Katy Perry.
*Katy Perry consoled those who didn't take home the best new artist award by saying, "Don't feel bad if you didn't win. I never won this and I have my own eyelash line. Take that, Bon Iver."
*There were 20 performances this year—a record number. I was kind of bummed the speeches didn't run longer though, I kind of like babblers.
*Boring tribute medleys happened every five minutes.
* Jack White brought both his female and male band for two songs and completely slayed. His losing album of the year to Mumford and Sons made me so angry that I started yelling at the guy next me like a crazy sports dude, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THIS IS TOTAL FUCKING BULLSHIT!" (But seriously, Mumford?! Clean out your ears, Academy.)
*During commercial breaks, everyone on stage kept commenting on what a great job the host LL Cool J was doing in this really paternal way, as if he were a small child we were supposed to be cheering on during a play.
*There were zero obligatory cheers when Chris Brown's nomination was listed off.
*The best new artist award went to the band Fun. who ruin spin class for me several times a month.
*Goyte won album of the year, and still looks like Gary from Partman Parthorse.
*The Black Keys (perhaps most famous in Seattle for their alleged TP-ing of Stranger writer Derek Erdman's house) partnered up for a performance with Dr. John and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
*Justin Bieber was rumored to have been conspicuously absent because he felt sad about not being nominated.
*Between the new dress code that basically only targets women from dressing too slutty, and Chris Brown being honored with performance spots last year, I'm hoping the 2014 Grammys don't include another surprise anti-feminist diss.
*All in all, every performance was a lot like watching the film Con Air... so much crazy action that you almost start get bored when the 15th climax point rolls around. It's the musical equivalent to an amazing motorcycle chase after a plane crash.
After-parties were aplenty after LL Cool J dismissed us; champagne flowed freely, the night raged on until large grown men were being carried out of hotel parties and thrown into cabs. I met a sweet music-industry fellow a while ago who said that he might be able to get me tickets to that unbelievable Mark McGrath and Friends Cruise. When I ran into him later that night, I faced the inevitable loud uttering of "HEY BREE, I THINK THAT I CAN STILL GET YOU TICKETS TO THAT SUGAR RAY CRUISE THAT YOU WANTED TO GO TO."
Later on, former Neumos sound guy Evan Lasure and Lance from the Seattle band Cumulus were spotted in an after-party cabana next to Prince, and Jay-Z told my girlfriend she looked "very, very nice," and I've been hearing abut it several times a day ever since.
I definitely found myself arguing on the phone with Virgin Airline's customer service the next day trying to justify reasons on why I had missed my flight. This concludes my tale of Grammy weirdness. THE END.