Monday, February 16, 2009

Grammehhhy.

Saw the delayed telecast of the 81st Grammys last night. Nothing really mind-blowing like in the previous years. They were good perfs though and we just might expect inter-generational numbers in the years to come. It has become quite a fad these days. This year there was Four Tops’ remaining duo Smokey Robinson and forgot-his-name with Jamie Fox and Ne-Yo, Stevie and the Jonas Bros, and Al Green, Justin and Boyz II Men. And Katy Perry comes out of ginormous banana and strut on stage with bananas on her hips. Was that a new song from U2 in the opening number? That one kicked ass. So did the perfs from Coldplay and Radiohead. I liked most though the perf of the 4 rap gods Jay-Z, Kanye, T.I. and Lil Wayne plus the mom-to-beat M.I.A. Did she give birth immediately after that? T.I. will be serving his 66-day sentence though after the Grammys, for a previous firearm-possession charge. I like that my faves of 2008 won like Adele, Estelle/Kanye’s American Boy and of course Coldplay’s Viva La Vida. Much has been said about this recent outing, or rather, much has been said about it’s being U2-ish. You can’t help it, the tracks are so anthem-ic you can’t help but… get lost… every river that you try to cross…

2 comments:

lucas said...

too bad hindi ko napanood. i love watching award shows. hehe!

Anonymous said...

musta ang reviewer???

tama ba? reviewer? tawag sa mahilig magmovie and music reviews??? hehehe

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting