The Grammys Gave Me Just What I Needed
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On this past weekend’s episode of Saturday Night Live, Jerrod Carmichael recalled how Lorne Michaels pulled him into his office and told him that the host’s job at this moment in cultural history was to “heal the nation.” Carmichael said it incredulously, and it does sound ridiculous. Heal the nation? Preposterous. We’re fine.
And then last night the Grammys gave us 3.5 solid and self-important hours of music, after which I feel appreciably lighter and happier. It has been a long, dispiriting week. A week of The Slap, and The Conversation About The Slap, and The Conversation About Not Talking About The Slap, and the hourly emotional jump scare of remembering what The Slap slapped out of the front of your mind, which is that Taylor Hawkins died. Turns out I needed some good live performances, and a survey of what popular music sounds and looks like in 2022. The Grammys gave it to me.
The show opened with a performance by Silk Sonic, who I have finally figured out: Silk Sonic is happening in the background of the second act of Dreamgirls. They went on to win Song of the Year for “Leave The Door Open.” (We called it last year, by the way.) Bruno Mars in his ‘70s tux and Anderson .Paak in his Tootie from The Facts of Life wig were all set to accept the award in character (Wild and Crazy Guys-style, speaking of SNL) until fellow songwriter D’Mile opened his speech by dedicating the award to his mother (who died on Wednesday, speaking of tough weeks) so they toned it down right quick. Honestly, please let my death take the air out of an unwanted improv scene. What a legacy.
Trevor Noah kept the whole thing nice and positive all night long. Literally every joke was about how great someone is, or how awesome someone’s performance was, or how great and awesome someone’s performance was about to be. The closest he got to being edgy was to praise Anderson .Paak slightly more than he did Bruno Mars, and even then they didn’t cut away until we all saw that Bruno was in on the joke. Good. We don’t need edge. Some of us did need to take the edge off, though; The show’s one big gimmick was to let members of artists’ crews introduce them, so one tour manager after another got to manifest their lifelong dream of being visibly terrified on live television.
BTS’s performance of “Butter” was heavy on close-up magic and sleight of hand, which was a bummer for Jin, who apparently broke a finger recently. So they had him behind a fake cardboard computer, with his left hand in a luxurious satin bread bag. V got some face time with Olivia Rodrigo, and Twitter reacted so hard the power went out in my house. It was of course a mindblowingly good performance. My bias was wrecked; from whom and to whom, a gentleman never tells.
Lil Nas X brought out Jack Harlow, and let out his pants about one half-inch in the crotch so as not to repeat his SNL wardrobe malfunction. Billie Eilish soaked her Chuck Taylors in an upside-down flooded room, and wore a Taylor Hawkins T-shirt. Olivia Rodrigo won Best New Artist, a category whose 10 nominees have a combined 250 years of recording experience. Brandi Carlile performed “Right On Time,” and made my boyfriend say, “This is The Beatles and Wings.” Pepperidge Farm Goldfish popped up at every commercial break with a repeating six-note mnemonic that will be the reason I eventually check myself into a psychiatric facility. Something like three awards were given out all night.
Justin Bieber did an MTV Unplugged version of “Peaches.” Dua Lipa and Megan Thee Stallion presented an award in the same outfit, like Whitney and Mariah at the VMAs, and then Donatella Versace appeared to yank a sleeve off one and a skirt off the other and generally show a tour-manager level of comfort on stage. Kourtney Kardashian spent the whole show on Travis Barker’s lap. One ticket per couple—you save 50% that way, and this is how you build wealth.
H.E.R. performed with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis and Lenny Kravitz and generally supported my theory that she only exists during awards ceremonies. Lenny Kravitz honored Britney Spears’s newfound freedom by wearing her nude VMA bodysuit. Carrie Underwood debuted a brand new song, standing perfectly still in front of a hair fan that was set somewhere between “Beyoncé” and “the video they send you home with when you go skydiving.”
Did you need emotion? The Grammys had you covered. An understated tribute to Taylor Hawkins led into an In Memoriam package in which Ben Platt claimed his place as this generation’s Anthony Newley. Lady Gaga paid a beautiful and sincere tribute to Tony Bennett, and gave Sarah Sherman something to do on next weekend’s SNL. Vlodymyr Zelenskyy delivered a truly breathtaking video message that led into a performance by John Legend, with Ukrainian musicians Siuzanna Iglidan and Mika Newton, plus poet Lyuba Yakimchuk, who escaped Ukraine only days ago. Instead of a joke to end this paragraph, I’m going to add a donation link to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.
Jazmine Sullivan won a well-deserved Best R&B Album for Heaux Tales. Brothers Osborne won a well-deserved Best Country Duo/Group Performance for “Younger Me,” before the televised broadcast, but still. Doja Cat sprinted from the ladies’ room to the stage to scoop up her well-deserved Best Pop Duo/Group Performance for “Kiss Me More,” meeting her impatient duet partner SZA, who hopped her ass up there on crutches.
Listen, it was punishingly long, but it was joyful. It was all over the place, but that’s music right now. It was, without announcing that it was going to be, exactly the thing that Disney is in big trouble with right-wing media for announcing that it was going to try to be: more than half non-white and/or non-straight, with nothing you’d have to explain to your kindergartener. My sincere pity to anyone whose job is to go on the air and complain about it this morning.
The Grammys had a little something for everyone who had already decided they were going to watch The Grammys. It even had the perfect ending, when Jon Batiste snatched Album of the Year from Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift. Grammys gonna Grammy. But for the whole night, the show kept the focus on music. No bits, aside from Silk Sonic. No slaps, aside from H.E.R. on the drums. The Grammys reflected the state of the music world in 2022, and the music world in 2022 is in a pretty damn good state. Consider me healed.
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