<![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, grammys]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/gawker.com.png <![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, grammys]]> http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/grammys http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/grammys <![CDATA['I. Am. WHITNEY. Houston. Whew! Winded.']]> No one ever told Whitney Houston that talking was going to be part of her comeback, but the embattled singer bravely attempted to speak words at last night's Grammys, with varying levels of success.

The result was a brilliant unraveling of sentences that left Houston virtually out of breath, as well as a delicious feedback loop when Houston's pauses and a teleprompter immediately rushed to its slowest setting caused her to stagger her words with even greater infrequency. Though she's the healthiest we've seen in her in ages, the over-deliberate phrasing reminded us of our own sometimes-inebriated insistences that, "No. We. Are. NOT. Drunk" (with a little bit of our high school drama teacher's vocal cadences thrown in for garnish). The final verdict? It's not quite right, but it's definitely OK.

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<![CDATA[A Tale Of Two Grammys: Radiohead Bludgeons The Jonas Brothers]]> If the incoming Oscar producers are serious about their pledge to detonate the awards show and rebuild from scratch, may they take two imperative lessons from Sunday night's Grammy telecast:

1. Whatever musical-number scenario Hugh Jackman winds up dumped into must feature the USC marching band. Jennifer Hudson was lovely and dignified, and M.I.A.'s pregnancy made for an unprecedentedly skull-bending blast of awards-show history. But neither yielded the Oscar-ready, post-ironic showstopper accompanying Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood on "15 Steps" — just the 30-piece, drum-and-brass thing to back up those aboriginal wind-spirits in the evening's Best Song medley. By contrast...

2. Disinvite the Jonas Brothers. You can't revoke Stevie Wonder's lifetime Grammy exception for one skunky Autotune intro and his abetting in the destruction of "Superstition." But you can punish the Jonas Brothers for their pitchy, rapey "Burnin' Up" overture: Confiscate their awards-season passports, and detain them until at least a full day after the Oscars just to prevent any further talent-pairing misfortunes. Actually, make it indefinite, lest their plot against Baz Luhrmann is actually legit.

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<![CDATA[Hey, Stevie: Show Nick Jonas What You Got!]]> · A brash appeal to teenyboppers brought 19 million viewers to CBS for the Grammys.

(Nearly half of which plunged sharp objects into their eyes and ears after witnessing Radiohead, T.I., the Jonas Brothers, Kenny Chesney and Robert Plant duet on "That's What Friends are For.") [Variety]
· Because it never stops being fun, the SAG board has re-fired Doug Allen and booting the feature-primetime negotiating committee. [Variety]
· Ed O'Neill will star in ABC half-hour pilot An American Family, playing a "60-year-old man who becomes a stepfather after marrying a Latina 30 years his junior." [THR]
· Star Wars: The Clone Wars has received a second-season pickup from Cartoon Network, ensuring the swishy adventures of Ziro the Lilac Hutt will continue for a long time in a galaxy far, far a gay. Away. We meant away. [THR]
· LA's Center Theater Group will mount David Mamet's Oleanna, with Bill Pullman and Julia Stiles in the roles of college professor/psycho accusatory student (or is she?). Pullman assured producers his mercury levels are "as normal as the next guy's." [Variety]

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<![CDATA[Chris Brown Allegedly Attacks Rihanna, Own Career With 'Deadly Weapon']]> Though the story that Chris Brown may have assaulted Rihanna over the weekend is dispiriting enough, in Hollywood, things can always get worse. Now, news is breaking about a new allegation.

First some background: the young singers were leaving a Clive Davis pre-Grammy party late Saturday night when the altercation allegedly happened outside their vehicle. Rihanna went to Cedars Sinai sporting facial bruises, while Brown fled the scene, only to eventually turn himself in (under the charge of making "criminal threats") before posting bail. His lawyer? None other than the ubiquitous Mark Geragos, who's also repped Winona Ryder and Michael Jackson.

Now, though, TMZ is reporting that an investigation is ongoing to charge Brown with assault with a deadly weapon—though the weapon in question is unknown. A simple fistfight or series of punches rarely progresses beyond a battery charge, so Brown would have had to use an outside object in the assault (or his own feet, as kicking a victim can be construed as using a deadly weapon). Then there are the bite marks that some news outlets are reporting Rihanna was found with. Ugh. Our thoughts go out to America's Barbadian sweetheart. (Depressingly) developing...

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<![CDATA[Coldplay Favored To Collect Multiple Grammys, Subpoenas This Weekend]]> The moody pop/performance-art troupe Coldplay is getting ready for one of the biggest weekends of its career, rehearsing Grammy acceptance speeches even as its members prepare to dodge Joe Satriani's legal wrath.

Satriani is reportedly still upset about the British quartet's "Viva La Vida," which boasts a curiously similar melody to one of the guitar icon's '90s masterworks. The ensuing controversy — complete with fan-cultivated evidence and Coldplay leader Chris Martin's infamous "Moe Batriani" kiss-off — had subsided and was thought settled in Wanker Court or wherever such tussles are typically resolved.

But now we know Satriani, like a snake lurking in the tall, think awards-season grass, was simply priming his legal minions for a spectacular sneak attack. Behold — the Grambush:

[A]ttorney Howard King of King Paterno et al [...] claims that Coldplay has dodged being served, and that the Grammys are the easiest forum at which to strike while the iron is hot.

King says, "We have warned their British lawyers that we have hired a fleet of process servers lined up to dog the band everywhere they go this weekend in the hopes of serving them."

King even promises to have camera crews roaming around with the process servers to get the whole thing on tape.

Finally! A reason to watch the Grammys. Still, the strategy seems to entail a lot of work that could probably be consolidated into a single incident like the one that befell Bob Dylan in 1998, with the stage-crashing antics of "Soy Bomb" upgraded to involve four process servers with subpoenas painted in fine print on their bare chests. Either that, or Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift can lyrically duet the documents in the band's direction in a 10-minute awardscast filibuster. Either/or, we'll take whatever.

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<![CDATA[Multiple Nominees Coldplay, Lil Wayne Lead the Charge Into Grammy Hell]]> The pungent scent of hot sulphur at Defamer HQ this morning can mean only one thing: Grammy Hell is bearing down on us, heralded as well by hosts Taylor Swift, LL Cool J and the rest of the wailing demon legion populating last night's first-ever primetime nomination special at the Nokia Theater. And what did their baleful cries portend? We're gonna get more Coldplay performance art!

The British quartet fell one nod short of rapper Lil Wayne's eight Grammy nominations, with their Viva La Vida and Tha Carter III (respectively, we think) facing Radiohead, Ne-Yo and Robert Plant and Alison Krauss for Album of the Year honors. Jay-Z, Ne-Yo and Kanye West followed with six nominations each, virtually none of whom will compete against the more formidable artistry of Jason Mraz ("I'm Yours"), Adele ("Chasing Pavements"), M.I.A. ("Paper Planes"), Sara Bareilles ("Love Song"), Estelle ("American Boy") and Leona Lewis ("Bleeding Love"), who will all vie for either/or/both the prizes for Song and Record of the Year.

And finally, providing the flaming beacon around which Pop-Culture Satan's vast armies have begun their bloodthirsty convergence, The Jonas Brothers are the runaway favorites to claim the year's Bew New Artist award — after three albums. (The Emanuel Brothers, though? Snubbed!) They humbly accepted their nomination in front of millions on Wednesday night:

"I can't believe we're here today, onstage," Kevin Jonas said backstage. "We've always dreamed of being recognized for being artists," Joe Jonas said. Brother Nick Jonas added, "I think what's been very important for us is the songwriting."

In fairness, we've already established that their singing and their style are clearly subordinate, so hey — why not? May their Grammy mascotry lead us all to a more melodic, creative Apocalypse for all. And pass the vodka.

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<![CDATA[Disrespectful Grammy Producers Learn The Hard Way That Kanye West Will Not Be Played Off The Stage]]>
Though Herbie Hancock delivered a huge upset by capturing the Album of the Year Grammy that clearly belonged to criminally underappreciated superstar Kanye West and Amy Winehouse selfishly distracted from his four-win night by hoarding five statuettes that would have looked much better upon the humble rapper's mantle (not to mention Winehouse's attention-whore hijacking of the ceremony's precious screentime via satellite), West would, in the end, have his Big Moment, even if he had to fight for it like he's had to battle for every scrap of recognition the System tries to withhold from him.

Some fifteen minutes into the emotional acceptance speech for his Rap Album victory, West chided the producers trying to play him off stage with some "wrap it up" music, then continued on with a rambling, forty-five minute disquisition (which, in fairness, did include a tribute to his mother) on the struggle for respect he may never win, no matter how many more gilded gramophones the Academy grudgingly hands over.

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<![CDATA[The Grammys: They May Be Even Less Exciting Than The Golden Globes]]> Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse for the music industry, here comes the news that the Grammys—celebrating their 50th anniversary this year—might have quite a bit less starpower. If they happen at all! Yesterday, the Writers' Guild Of America hinted that it will not grant a waiver for the ceremony, which means that if the writers' strike is still going on by Feb. 10, attendees will probably have to cross a picket line before they can get into the Staples Center for the big show. The likelihood of members of the Screen Actors Guild—who are in solidarity with the writers—actually crossing that picket line is nil, and as a result, the talent pool for the show will be pretty depleted.

It's unclear how much of an impact a WGA picket line would have, but the kudocast will have to make do without the usual 10-20 actors who usually serve as presenters. Last year, for example, Quentin Tarantino, Luke Wilson, Nicolas Cage, Terrence Howard, Samuel L. Jackson, Chris Rock and David Spade appeared on the show.

This year also has a substantial number of nominated musicians who have appeared in films and on TV. Chief among them are Justin Timberlake, Queen Latifah, Tim McGraw, Beyonce, Jack White, Jon Bon Jovi, T.I. and Fantasia. Among the nominees who have historically not crossed picket lines are Bruce Springsteen, the Beastie Boys, Joni Mitchell, John Mellencamp and Steve Earle.

The strike could also affect the show's script. For this year's 50th anniversary edition of the Grammys, the Recording Academy would like to present a show with a number of historical packages, which would require a writing staff. Producer Ken Ehrlich and journalist David Wild, who wrote a Grammys 50th anni book, have written recent editions of the show.

Well, T.I. was sort of a given as a no-show. There have still been no performers announced for the telecast aside from the Foo Fighters, although Variety'searlier report indicated that Dave Grohl would also be unlikely to cross a picket line. I'm just hoping that whatever does happen, Billy Bush will be nowhere near a Grammy-related telecast, as watching that guy smarm his way through Sunday night's Golden Globes press conference for even two minutes was absolutely nauseating.

Grammys strike chord with WGA [Variety]
Earlier: Will The Writer's Strike Drain The Grammys' Talent Pool?
[Photo: AP]

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<![CDATA[Grammys Single Out 'Umbrella,' Daughtry, T-Pain For Musical Excellence]]> tpain.jpgOur complete and utter disinterest in the Grammys has become something of a Defamer tradition, with the mainstream music industry's most celebratory night of public self-diddling requiring of us zero emotional investment, thus greatly reducing the risks being forced to launch a mug of Kahlua at our TV sets after a particularly unjust upset. The Dixie Chicks are the best band on the planet? Sure, why not. That said, the 2008 nominees have been announced:

The big winner was Kanye West, whose eight nominations we predict will do much towards reining in the rapper's tyrannosaurus ego, and Motown throwback Amy Winehouse, nominated four times in the big categories, with each opportunity exponentially increasing the chance that the sobriety-averse chanteuse might reach into her beehive and magically produce her speech, an eight-ball, and a hand mirror. Nominated for five each were Foo Fighters, Jay-Z, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake and something called T-Pain, while four each went to Akon, Dierks Bentley, American Idol's Chris Daughtry, Feist, Tim McGraw, John Newton, Ne-Yo, Rihanna and, finally, Bruce Springsteen, for whom surely just knowing he's in the same company as that girl who goes "ella, ella, ella" will come as one of the highlights of an already legendary musical career.

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<![CDATA[Inside A Conspicuous Paris Hilton Awards Show Appearance]]>

While virtually our only memory of last night's Grammys telecast involves Justin Timberlake face-fucking a handheld video camera in an attempt to translate his performance into a more YouTube-ready format, an operative who was in attendance jogs our memory about a blink-and-you-missed-it Paris Hilton appearance we'd forgotten about, offering a look at how her two seconds of screen time was made possible:

i was at the Grammys last night and about 2/3 through the show Paris Hilton and friend were ushered in - people were asked to leave their seats and a small scuffle ensues, Paris and friend sat down in those seats, she applied makeup and talked on her phone then - then surprise - the camera gets a shot of her in the audience, then paris and friend get up and leave and the original seat holders get their seats back. Was this in any way related to Hilton being a major sponsor of the Grammys? And do they really think having her there helps promote the hotel chain? Cause when I see Paris I'm thinking "ho" not "hotels."

If the aim was to offer the Hiltons a sneaky, near-subliminal plug for their sponsoring hotel chain by briefly planting their living, sex-tape-plagued brand extension in the audience for a cameo, it almost certainly backfired, as within seconds of the heiress's flashing across our screen, we felt an uncontrollable urge to go see if Paris Exposed had come back online to post a new round of bubble bath videos and STD-suppressing prescriptions.

[Pictured: Hilton engaged in deep conversation about public policy issues with L.A. Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa at the Universal Music after-party. Photo: Getty Images]

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<![CDATA[Trade Round-Up: CAA Assimilates Reese Witherspoon]]> reese-witherspoon4.jpg· Want to read more about the Dixie Chicks' big night at the Grammys? Of course you do. [Variety, THR]
·Reese Witherspoon unexpectedly ditches Endeavor (her home for just a year) for CAA after being promised that if she signed with the evil agenting monolith, the committed mother's young children would never be featured as lunch specials at their new headquarters. Rumors that the agency's pitch also included an ominous pledge to "take care" of ex-husband Ryan Phillippe should he ever "become a problem" are unconfirmed. [Variety]
· The Grammys recover nicely from last year's humiliating buggering at the hands of American Idol, as seeking refuge on an Idol-free Sunday night leads to an 18 percent boost over 2006's all-time low ratings. [THR]
· MTV Networks announces a "sweeping round" of layoffs in a variety of divisions, with the death toll expected to reach 250 staff positions. Happy Monday! [Variety]
· In today's WTF? casting news (but really, doesn't each new Cage gig announcement elicit that kind of reaction?), Nicholas Cage is attached to star in Disney's live-action adaptation of The Sorcerer's Apprentice. Luckily, he'll play the sorcerer, not an off-puttingly intense dancing broom. [THR]

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<![CDATA[Dixie Chicks Ride Country-Lite Flip-Off 'Nice' To Grammy Gold]]> If you're legitimately interested in last night's Grammys, we'd usher you over to our record-store clerk cousins at Idolator, who liveblogged every Justin-Timberlake-making-love-to-a-lipstick-cam moment. Meanwhile, we'll apportion our typical amount of interest in the proceedings, while breathing a sigh of relief in the knowledge that if the Oscars were to excellence in movies what the Grammys are to music, Ron Howard would be looking at an inevitable Da Vinci Code win. The night belonged to the Dixie Chicks, who won record and song of the year for "Not Ready to Make Nice," their country-lite flip-off to former fans who called for various CD- and witch-burnings in recent years, and Carrie Underwood, whose wins offered further evidence of Simon Cowell's unequalled nose for sniffing out a great rack-voice combo:

Despite alienating a large chunk of their country audience after making anti-George Bush remarks in 2003, they clearly lost no points with Grammy voters, who awarded them country album and duo/ group awards as well as three of the "big four" awards. [...]
Besides her personal triumph, American Idol winner [Carrie] Underwood's victories were an artistic vindication for the hit TV show, which has often been derided in professional music circles.

There was as much drama behind the scenes as there was on stage, too (i.e. not much), as Page Six is also reporting that chronic bullying-victim T.R. Knight was forcefully ejected from a VIP table at the Rolling Stone/Justin Timberlake pre-Grammys performance at Avalon by Puff Security, a lapse of etiquette that should see a flurry of angrily worded statements from various VIP victims rights groups, followed by an elective stint for said bouncer in a 12-step program for overly aggressive bodyguards.

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<![CDATA[Grammys Hangover: Britney's Nipple Surprise]]> britney-grammynipple-s.jpg
It took us almost two days, but we've finally found something from the Grammys more unsettling than a possibly senile Paul McCartney (he's got to be, right?) being tricked into performing with Linkin Park—namely, this photo of burgeoning hip-hop superstar K-Fed and kiddie car-seat eschewing scofflaw Britney Spears. We're sure it's just a trick of perspective, but we could swear that Federline isn't flashing a peace sign, but actually using those two fingers to slide his meal ticket's dress down just enough to create some cocktail dress/areola separation. ("Hey baby, look what I just done! PopoZao, little nipple motherfucker!") If you're frustrated by the censored version above, clicking the image will produce a more revealing, NSFW version that will undoubtedly brighten your Friday afternoon.

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<![CDATA[Post-Grammys Close Call: We Could Have Lost Brett Ratner]]> Today's Page Six reports on the "multiple meltdowns" that followed in the wake of Wednesday night's Grammy awards ceremony, including a road-clogging snafu incited by America's Favorite Fauxteur:

...At [the Grammy afterparty thrown by billionaire Ron] Burkle's, "Rush Hour" director [Brett] Ratner caused a one-hour traffic jam after paramedics and a fire truck were called in response to his full-blown panic attack - caused by an argument with his date - in front of the Spanish-style mansion. Cops came later and had the music turned off.

"Ratner was complaining of shortness of breath while leaning by the VIP check-in desk," a witness told The Post's Braden Keil. "My heart is racing," the witness overheard him repeating.

Ratner, however, recklessly endangered his health (and perhaps even more chillingly, the future of the Rush Hour franchise) by haggling with the concerned check-in staff. In between gasps of precious breath, the director demanded that three ambulances and a pair of medical choppers service his distress call; after the helicopters collided and the whirlybird fireball fell from the sky, destroying the first two emergency vehicles on the scene, the third would barrel through the ensuing wall of flame and deliver Ratner to the safety of a nearby hospital. But once a second, more intense wave of paralyzing anxiety gripped him, the staffers were finally able to negotiate him down to a single fire truck, the paramedic team, and a "kick-ass" traffic jam, citing the logistical and budgetary problems posed by his original rescue vision.

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<![CDATA[Even Sly Stone Can't Make Us Care About The Grammys]]>
The Grammys were, well, the Grammys. Allowing yourself to become frustrated by the absurdity of the event is like bringing your toddler to the doctor every time he fills his diaper, demanding to know why he's broken. And so once you make the unfortunate choice to tune in, there's nothing to do but sink a little deeper into the couch each time brain-damaged Grammy producers facilitate the unholy onstage pairing of Madonna and Gorillaz, Mary J. Blige and U2, and Sir Paul McCartney, The Only Living Beatle, Even Though Ringo Continues To Draw Breath Somewhere, We Think and Linkin. Fucking. Park., suspecting that the music in an eternally stopped elevator in Hell is less insanity-provoking.

The only thing nearly worth discussing was Sly Stone stealing Grace Jones' circa 1986 look (or as Johnny Hong Kong pointed out to us, proving to the world that someone fed him after midnight), abandoning the secret Funk Cave where he's been hiding for the last 20 or so years, and showing up to pound out a few verses of "I Want to Take You Higher" before disappearing again, perhaps to eat the liver of Maroon 5's Adam Levine for daring to cover one of his songs at the show. Which, we assume, will make for a good story the next time Levine is trying to lay a waitress at the Chateau Marmont (as in: "Dude—The guy from Sylvester and the Family Stallones totally tried to kill me at the Grammys!").

So, um, yeah. That was the Grammys. At least the one part we watched in between flipping between Project Runway and American Idol.

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<![CDATA[The Obligatory Pre-Grammy Post: Reliving Ricky Martin's Big Break]]> Anyone who's ever sacrificed three hours of their lives to the Grammys show know that no one actually cares who wins, only who plays; five minutes after the show, that year's Best New Artist disappears into obscurity, but the unholy noises created by the centerpiece mash-up performance of Bono, Tim McGraw, any former boy-bander with a new solo album, and the ghost of George Harrison will induce uncomfortable auditory hallucinations for months (and now, abetted by iTunes, potentially forever). According to the LAT, nobody knows this better than music executives and managers, who'll move heaven and earth to insure their clients get to lip-sync in front of an audience of millions:

No wonder music executives go to the mat to secure a spot on the lineup. In 1998, for example, then-Sony Music head Tommy Mottola threatened to withhold future appearances by Jennifer Lopez and Destiny's Child if a relatively unknown Latin singer named Ricky Martin was not given airtime.


"I used every form of manipulation and pressure you can imagine to make it happen," said Mottola, who said he even called CBS Chief Executive Leslie Moonves to make his case. Martin sang "La Copa de la Vida" at the 1999 Grammys, where he also won the best Latin performance award. By the end of the year, the singer had sold 9 million records, an eightfold increase over his previous sales.

The very, very devilish Mottola hounded Moonves day and night, playing Martin's song over the phone and begging the mogul to shoehorn the artist into the Grammys telecast. Moonves initially dismissed the music as "lobotomized, Iglesias-lite Muzak," prompting the record exec to dispatch Martin to demonstrate the range of his talents in person. After a few minutes of uninspired caterwauling, Moonves remained unimpressed—that is, until Martin's big finish, in which the singer finally turned the firehose of his passion on the man who held the key to his fame and fortune. One drenched, ruined suit and one excited phone call to Mottola later, Martin was well on his way to Grammy immortality.

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