Randall Roberts’ piece on being inside the Grammy press room for the first time was a somewhat intriguing slice-of-journalists’-mundane-lives take on interviewing the winners of the Feb. 8 awards show, with tidbits about access ($400 for a DSL hookup?!) and quotes that didn’t make it out to the wires (including a few from the owner of reissue haven Dust-to-Digital, whose Art of the Field Recording Vol. 1: nabbed the Best Historical Album trophy) sprinkled throughout. It even engendered a thoughtful response from Variety scribe Phil Gallo, who lightly swatted Roberts on the nose while adding a bit of historical perspective to his notes on what he termed “a dying industry covering another dying industry.” Too bad, then, that it all had to go sour at the end, when Roberts popped a banana about Katy Perry’s trip to Fruitopia that night:
I’d donate a kidney to Katy Perry after her little performance in the pressroom. Say what you will about her music and what she represents; anyone with the nerve, confidence and ambition to plant her body inside a giant banana and descend onto the national stage to sing a semiprurient song about hot lesbian action is inherently more interesting than the grunts who write about her. After the show, Perry is incredibly charming, forthright and thoughtful. That huge smile on her face and that insanely bodacious body, combined with wit and natural grace, make the room a million times brighter than it had been moments before.
Dude, big boobs and the willingness to be an attention whore by playing Lesbian Queen For A Day do not add up to anything “interesting”—especially at the current cultural moment, which is still digging out of the whole “post-dignity era” stigma afforded by the Plastic Gilded Age. If anything, the only ballsy thing Perry did on that Sunday night was attempt to dance, since her hoofing skills aren’t even up to Britney-at-the-VMAs par. If you think she’s hot, then fine, say that. But please don’t try to dress up her Girls Gone Wild Lite schtick and forget that she’s always been willing to do anything for attention because you were blinded by the Carmen Miranda smoothie that she poured into her jugs.
Katy Perry Unpeeled [LA Weekly]
Grammy Awards Press Room First Timer Speaks Truth … But Has a Bit to Learn [The Set List]
Funny. To her defense (or devil’s advocate - take your pick) she doesn’t seem as dull (dense?) as you’d expect a pop star of her caliber to be. I think she possesses enough self-awareness and definitely enough tongue-in-cheek bravado to be rated a notch better than her “take me serious” comrades - paging Lady Ca-Ca. It’s like she knows the gig is ridiculous, but she’s letting it ride. This writer though, clearly mesmerized by boobs. Haven’t we all been there though?
If one’s highlight of the Grammys is Katy Perry, that says more about the sad state of the Grammys than Ms. Perry. My highlight of the Grammys: Watching Radiohead try to stay awake.
@Swankster: In response to your last question: No.
HA!
I’m an avid LA Weekly reader and usually like Roberts’ stuff, but mentioning Perry’s “insanely bodacious body” is some serious weak sauce. The phrase and the attitude behind it seem beamed in from a past era.
@JZ13: And how ’bout those gams, see? Wokka wokka!
Bodacious.
It just needs to be seen in print again.
Bodacious.
@JZ13: But it’s bad journalistic conduct to use the terms “boobs,” “jugs” or “cones.” The man did what he had to do. She’s got big’uns, you see.
@TheRunningboard7: You mean during their own performance, right?
I’ve never understood why the Recording Academy doesn’t provide free internet access in the press room, a la the CMAs. Getting a land line for a slow-ass dial-up connection is expensive as hell, too. Praise be to the IT gods for air cards.
(Of course, I covered the awards from home this year, via the pre-tel Webcast and the prime-time awards broadcast. Missed making my taco run on the way to Staples, but not much else.)