Waiting for the night.

The Young Marcus would totally be horrified at the fact that Old Marcus completely lost track of yesterday's announcement of the Grammy nominations. If only because I completely missed an opportunity for my favorite kind of workplace discussion: workplace discussion that's not actually work-centric.

Ultimately, I find myself consistently disappointed in the actual Award Show itself. Say what you want about fading relevance, and I'll probably half heartedly agree. Too many year-after-year award sweeps by another long-suffering workhorse who finally gets their due, having previously been nominated multiple times in their career but consistently shut out. Or a long overdue nostalgia fest for some old road-worn troubadour who got tapped on the back to work with a producer du'jour, recording the (now) requisite syrupy over-orchestrated duets album of ubiquitous "standards" - and warbled without even sharing the same studio space with his/ her partner in the first place. The end result just gets pasted together with Pro Tools. So much for chemistry.

Performers need not even be human - let's not forget the Grammy-winning video featuring a certain inimitable MC Skat Kat as proof. Artists need not even be alive. Anyone for Lisa Marie and Elvis' patched together post-mortem "In The Ghetto"? Who was the target audience on that one? Imagine being in that focus group.

Much can be also said of the increasing out-of-touch nominations which elicit much debate year to year. Every once and awhile, the token "hip but in that pseudo 'hey, look! We know what the kids like these days' but actually the nod is years past when the kids cared about the band once thought to be hip. And who says 'hip' any more these days, anyway. Old man." apparition will transpire. Only to come and go with a shut out.

I think the Foo Fighters, for Album Of The Year, are this year's shout out to the kids. Kids like me. Kids like me who are 30 plus. Who vocally will admonish the album's liberal use of strings and piano, but internally appreciate the artistic growth. We justify only to ourselves a rapid approchement toward that golden age where we like softer, gentler instrumentation anyway, so that... explains that ...(hand motion wiping hands clean). And we welcome Dave toning down his emo-scream. Because he can make our ears bleed. All the while, we still jab fingers in the air and proclaim "But I was THERE man, when Nirvana broke!"

(Citation required for the younger crowd: See, Dave Grohl was this guy who used to be the drummer in this band who...

...oh never mind. But that's what it feels like having to explain to anyone under 28 the significance of this nomination. It represents my Gen X era getting proper due. Of course, the Foos won't win because of Amy Winehouse. Because she sounds like Motown. And old people like Motown. Old people like me.)

Anyway, most times, I consider the Grammys just a dismissive but necessary viewing. Tolerable to my wife only for the fact they are shown once a year (although the remote is always mine anyway), and it gives me something to shake my head about the next day when your favorite wins. Which is always welcoming, as I love to wag fingers, debunk widespread belief, and dismiss commonly held musical adoration. And criticize the musical taste of others, while maintaining a "But if it makes you happy..." stance. All in the spirit of being convenient to my judgment and approval.

Like The Beatles:

"Yeah, they were okay, I guess; nice melodies, but they were only around for maybe 7 years. Catalog's kind of limited, huh?. Pretty word trains, though. Same songs get played all the time though. Don'cha think maybe they've reached their critical mass saturation? Look, I've finally honed my reflex reaction so finitely, my finger changes the preset with just the first note. I get them. I do. They used a sitar. Groundbreaking. But Brian Wilson had a sandbox in his living room, and lived in his pajamas for months. That's way cooler."

But I digress as I am wont to do.

Not that the Grammys truly matter, anyway. They reflect an old guard establishment mentality that would rather reward well-polished dreck like Celine Dion. Or so-called "heavy metal" bands like Jethro Tull (by quotation, I mean 'not', you know). But to their credit, the Grammys in recent years have been making a noble attempt to change up their well-worn image and shed that accountant-like coldness. They might even look upon themselves as trendsetters for the music industry. Albeit, well after the trend has been played out ad nauseum. But, for all we know, the Academy's non- public personified self-image might be about the balance of staying mainstream, but keeping with an old-timey sensibility of artistic integrity and still maintaining the edge a blogger can get behind. I myself would like to see Amy Winehouse sweep the awards, though - if only to see Kanye have a meltdown of apocalyptic biblical proportions and rush the stage in a "Kanye is for the children" kind of misguided rage. Insert your own "Back To Black" missive here.

The real head-bowing shame, though, undeniably has to be recognized in the ceremony becoming so sterile in this revisionist era of puritanical revival (censorship be damned), we can't even hope for a glimpse of...well, anything anymore. What good is my Tivo now? Worthless. Thanks, Janet.

(And I can't believe I have made two Jethro Tull references in as many days. I don't even like those old dinosaurs. Fecking flute math beard rock.)