It's awards season - that time of year when musicians pick up pointless statuettes, record companies pretend they're not hurtling ever closer to extinction and the world crosses their fingers in the hope that at least Oasis will turn up and say something funny. With most journos cordoned off, away from the proper action, this week I turned to the blogosphere to get the inside scoop on what really happened behind those dressing room doors.
Let's start with Moby, who's been mixing with the rich and famous at The Grammys. Hang on, did I say mixing with the rich and famous? I meant sitting on his sofa watching it on the box like everyone else. Even more boringly, Moby doesn't appear to have watched what happened, doesn't know who the host was and admits to only properly catching three minutes of The Police playing live. So we're left with a thrilling blog posting about someone who failed to watch The Grammys on TV. Seriously, what's the point of a rockstar keeping a blog if their lives are even more boring than ours? He does, however, reveal that most low-profile Grammy awards are actually given out in the daytime, before most people know it's even started.
it's kind of heartbreaking and touching at the same time. i was there one year and i remember very distinctly the person who'd won 'best polka record' yelling 'polka forever!!' as a part of his acceptance speech. the 20 or 30 people in the staples center clapped perfunctorily. unfortunately the sound of 20 people clapping in a space designed to hold 18,000 is kind of depressing.
(capitalisation is the author's own)
If you thought this was thrilling stuff, then you should check Nelly Furtado. She celebrated her Brit Awards victory by launching her first Video Blog this week. Not only can you laugh at the most awkward delivery of the sentence "I'm having lots of fun" ever, but also bask in the revelation that, on the first night of her 'Get Loose" tour, she "just got loose on stage". Craziness! It's insights like this that force us to turn to Blog Column favourite Lily Allen. She didn't win anything at the Brits this year, but wants to make it clear that had nothing to do with her crying the next day...
I went to the brits and lost all three I was nominated for, I knew that was going to be the case, all my categories were very tough. Then I went out for a few drinks, assaulted some paparazzi with my stiletto and went to bed . On thursday i woke up @ 8 in the am and left my hotel in tears , i didnt want to leave . I wanted to go home , I wanted my Mum to cook me a roast...
Ah yes, the old "I was crying because I wanted a roast dinner" excuse. I swear, if I had a pound for every time I'd heard that one wheeled out, I'd have enough to buy tomorrow's Guardian by now. Anyway, let's leave you with unlikely rock blogger John Lydon who appears to be hosting his very own awards ceremony soon, or at least judging some kind of gigantic Battle Of The Bands contest on US TV.
I admire the wit, audacity and touch of genius to entrust me with the future of rock and roll. I do not do judgment. I don't take judgment. But, by the end of this show you'll know what this judge meant [when he said] I don't like decaffeinated teabags. Up yours, John Rotten.
Charming. But what could this cryptic teabag talk all mean? Is it some twee indie rock band from Glasgow? A coded message warning us of imminent apocalypse? Or maybe just the fact the biggest punk in the world doesn't like decaffeinated teabags and wants to share that with the wider world. As Moby could tell you, that's what these rock'n'roll blogs are for.
