I don’t know if farmers and ranchers listen to music, but I
suspect they do. My wife and I tuned into about half an hour of the Grammy
Awards last night and we both said ‘what the hell was that?’
How old am I? There was a time when I could watch the
Grammies and relate to 90 percent of the music and the various performers and
be entertained, and now it is like watching a variety show from a different
Thank God there were still a few familiar names like Robert
Plant and Allison Kraus (that is one CD I did have), Paul McCartney, the
Eagles, Kenny Chesney, James Taylor and a few others. Even Dean Martin got a 14 second mention for a lifetime achievement award.
I guess in this day and age that is all 50 years in showbiz is worth, 14
seconds. (Although you wonder what took so long for his career to be recognized. He died in 1995.)
But beyond a very short list of the old timers I had no idea
who these people where, and to a large extent, I had no idea what they were
singing. I think they were singing.
Adele, Cold Play, Ne-Yo, Lady Antebellum, Jay-Z, Lupi
Fiasco, Big Boi, Lady Gaga, Young Jeezy, Ludacris, Nas, – who are these people?
And who told them that was music? Someone by the name of Katy Perry – who was
introduced as a bi-curious Lesbian – had the auditorium whipped into a frenzy
of fan support.
And then there was something by the name of M.I.A., who was
10 months pregnant, who came out in some sort of a sheer, poke-a-dot short set,
to belt out an unintelligible Rap song, along with three other male Rap
performers. She got a standing ovation. I don’t think we’d ever see Anne Murray
I am old. I have become my parents. Someone please shoot me.
I know I run the risk of loosing my last audience, but at my funeral, could
someone please play a few bars of Forever Young by Rod Stewart, or even Am I
Blue by George Strait. It would be nice to go out with just one familiar tune
in my head.