And the big winner tonight is…THE RAIN!

You have no idea what is going on here, it’s positively apocalyptic, it’s supposed to come down for three days straight and this ain’t no east coast rain, it’s coming down like God and everyone in heaven is throwing down buckets.

Did the rain play a part in the arrest of Killer Mike? Was he just trying to get out of the wet? Isn’t it amazing that you get arrested and it’s world news, but the fact that you just won a couple of Grammys? That’s already been forgotten.

I don’t need to piss on the Grammys, Jay Z already did a good job of that. And in truth it was a pretty good show as these things go, but that’s just the point, “as these things go”…  Which means network television with commercials trying for broad appeal to garner enough viewers that they will meet the number sold to advertisers. And that paradigm is dead.

I never watch TV in real time, and I wonder how people can, with all the spots. Only in TV can the big breakthrough be the addition of ads to streaming services. That’d be like adding ads to Spotify. You hear ads on the free tier, if you’re a schnorrer, but on TV streaming you have to pay to endure commercials. Talk about a backward move. Once you’re beholden to Wall Street, once you take your focus off satiating your customers, you’re on the wrong path. That’s how we got into this mess, with overpriced CDs containing one hit single. The public was pissed, but the labels were myopically rolling in dough until file-sharing came along and they weren’t. Anger the public at your peril. The key is to get ahead of the public, provide something they don’t even know they want, underpromise and overdeliver, not the opposite.

And in truth I wasn’t even going to watch the show until CNNi recruited me to comment when it was done. And it wasn’t an endurance test, then again I spent so much time scrolling on my phone.

This was not Ken Ehrlich’s Grammy show, thank god. No endless “Grammy moments,” you know, the dreaded duets. The show moved along, except for Trevor Noah’s execrable monologue. But I can’t say everything was worth seeing.

They had it backward, Billy Joel should have opened the show and Dua Lipa should have closed it. Because by time Lipa got out of the cage and was through dancing my e-mail was blowing up with people complaining. What has this got to do with music? The production numbers were edgy and salacious, but otherwise they were no different from variety shows of the sixties, of the fifties! Or the MTV eighties and nineties.

This show was made like the internet doesn’t exist, like the landscape hasn’t been completely altered in the twenty first century. Now distribution is open to everybody and the stars’ music has less reach than any time in the era of broadcast. But don’t let the truth get in the way of making a show.

What was wrong with this telecast was it didn’t capture the zeitgeist. It was all about the Spotify Top 50 when in truth the hits are garnering less audience every year. You no longer have to listen to anything you don’t want to. Which just might be almost all the music on this show. Vapid pop. These might be the biggest stars we’ve got, but they don’t compare to the size of the stars of yore, irrelevant of the statistics their PR people keep forcing down our throat.

Everyone agrees with the fact that the Tracy Chapman/Luke Combs duet was the highlight of the night. But what was really interesting was when they panned to the audience, all the stars. THEY WERE ALL SINGING ALONG! This was the only time we saw this all night. That’s the difference between a hit of yesteryear and one of today. Also, isn’t it interesting that a simple acoustic number with some chord changes and hooks was triumphant. It’s like we’ve lost the formula.

Joni Mitchell sang surprisingly well for someone who told us for two decades she couldn’t, sing that is. And Burna Boy was a pleasant surprise.

I’m a Billy Joel fan, but couldn’t someone tell him that new number is not a hit? Also, closing with “You May Be Right” was like the Beatles closing with “Hey Bulldog.”

Now if I want to be honest, a lot of other genres were recognized in the pre-show, but unless you won an award, or are related to or work with the winner, no one knows and no one cares. They won’t put this music on the telecast, it’s not broad enough. But broad to everybody was pre-FM, and then the twenty years of MTV. The best stuff is always outside. True fans would pooh-pooh so many of today’s hits, they’re looking for something more fulfilling.

As for Taylor Swift announcing the release of her new album… This reminded me of nothing so much as Macy Gray stitching the drop date of her new album on the back of her dress at the VMAs. That’s when the VMAs jumped the shark. And I’m not saying the Grammys have much gravitas, but why hijack it for personal reasons?

But it’s Swift’s year and I’m a loser for saying anything negative.

That’s the world we live in, if your analysis is contrary to that of the fans, you’re an object of ridicule, which is why so many shut up.

The tribute to Tina Turner was just plain awful.

Celine Dion… Talk about gravitas. Supposedly she was too ill to go on the road, it was a complete surprise. And unlike too many on the floor she owned the aging process, she looked like a woman, she looked like a star. Can’t say I’m a big fan, but I will say her music penetrated the public more than that of any recent hitmaker. Our heart will go on with Celine.

Harvey Mason, Jr. was great at Musicares, here not so much. You don’t start a speech by congratulating the show you’re on. We watched it, we didn’t need a replay. You start with the hit, you grab the audience right away, it’s show business number one. Mason’s delivery was pretty good, quick and relatively lighthearted, but the speech was positively awful.

And why didn’t U2 play a song from “Achtung Baby,” since that’s what they’re playing at the Sphere? You’ve got to realize, most people are watching with crap sound, they can hardly recognize the hits, help them out.

Who won?

It’s already been forgotten, or at least it will be in a day or two. It’s not that important to the public,

So what we had here was a carnival show. Deep thinkers anonymous. I wouldn’t want to take political advice from a single one of them. They made the college graduates milking tech and finance look good. But it used to be the musicians were seers, if you wanted to know which way the wind blew, you turned on the radio, you listened to a record. Music was the anti, a commentary on the system, not the system itself.

Yes, this was a CBS show.

Oh, I forgot Annie Lennox singing Sinead’s song (I know it was written by Prince, no need to hassle me). Good, better than Stevie Wonder’s numbers, but…

It’s an impossible task, making a great Grammy show. Not only can you not please everybody, the public is dumb, and the televised awards reward dumb, when it’s intelligent in the cracks that people yearn for and cling to. It’s the lifers, who channel the gods, who are ultimately remembered. People who’ve given up on the hit parade and are following their muse.

So the Grammy show has improved. Not a heavy lift, it was so damn bad before.

But it’s out of time. It’s like selling CDs. Do you even have a player? Do you even subscribe to cable? Do you even know what channel CBS is on?

There used to be something happening here. In music. And what it was wasn’t exactly clear. But we knew that music was the bleeding edge, that it was peopled by those who questioned, most of whom didn’t even make tracks to become hits. And they call so much of that music “classic rock.” But that also includes Leonard Cohen, who never had a hit single. Ditto Tom Waits. Today’s hit music vertical is so narrow as to leave no room for the aforementioned gravitas. For that you have to dig deeper. And the good thing is people are. And other than maybe Burna Boy, they didn’t get turned on to any artist tonight that they didn’t already know, that they might have already discarded.

We want more. And in truth, people are doing their best to deliver it. But they’re not signed by major labels, they’re not on this show. They’re doing it their own way and their audience is building slowly, usually live. Now you build it on the road, not with recordings.

The times have changed, but the Grammy telecast has not. If this is a snapshot of where music is today, god help me. But thank god it’s not. It may be nearly impossible to ferret out the good stuff, but that’s coming, we can’t continue to live in the wilderness forever. Too many people have already jumped ship. I know kids who don’t listen to music. Period. That used to be unheard of, not today. It’s got to be so powerful, so desirable, so informative that it’s irresistible.

You could resist everything on the show tonight.

Except, of course, “Fast Car.” But that’s from 1988.

And the guy who signed her, Brian Koppelman, is now famous for “Billions,” he left music behind. And that tells you everything you need to know. The zeitgeist is contained in streaming TV, where they tell stories that inform and titillate and surprise us. Every time I get together with people they want to talk streaming TV, not music. Even youngsters.

And the music business continues merrily along with blinders on.

Thank god the barrier to entry is so low anybody can play, the square pegs are not squeezed out.

We need more “Square Pegs.” Hell, isn’t that where Sarah Jessica Parker got her TV start? On a sitcom? She moved on, she grew. I wish I could say the same about the “artists” who performed tonight.

Only in Los Angeles.

It was the anti-Spotify Top 50. Working musicians, most sans mainstream fame, all on the same stage performing the songs of one of America’s most revered songwriters.

Or to paraphrase Max Yasgur, it was five hundred people getting together for three hours of fun and music and nothing but fun and music. As opposed to the trappings, the outfits, the controversies, the social media posts, the endless hype and sell.

It’s hard to be a musician. Sure, you get some attention, but oftentimes what money you make is burned up in travel and other expenses. You may want to be a star, but most people never get there. In other words, you’ve got to really love to play music to stay at it. It takes dedication. And oftentimes the only payout is the applause you get on stage. Then again, you can’t get that applause anywhere else. It’s a calling.

Now the show began with the Blind Boys of Alabama singing “Loves Me Like a Rock.” Utterly astounding, with the energy and bounciness and sheer joy of the original recording. Rarely do shows start on such a high note. I would have enjoyed a few more numbers by the Boys, but everybody got just one song, and one thing was for sure, the show didn’t drag.

Now if you’re not a member of the scene, you might not know who Molly Tuttle is, but when she was picking the leads and her male compatriot Ketch Secor was playing the rhythm it was an exciting role reversal.

And speaking of role reversal, seventeen year old Grace Bowers positively wailed on the electric guitar, the most rock and roll element of the evening.

But the peak, once again, like last year, was Dwight Yoakam.

Now unlike so many musicians, Dwight is very verbal. And he takes the stage and starts talking… It’s not exactly a story, it’s more conversational, more intimate, more between him and the audience, but then…

I’m tingling thinking about it. Dwight is so regular, but when he starts to sing… You could release Dwight’s performance of “The Boxer” tomorrow and it would be a hit, it was just that good. He said he hillbillied it up just a bit, and that changed the accents to great effect. And as I was listening I was thinking to myself I LIVED THROUGH THIS! These are classics, but I was around when the “Bridge Over Troubled Water” album came out. I saw Simon & Garfunkel live in the interlude between their initial hits and “The Graduate” comeback. I feel privileged. Albeit closer to the end.

But the big surprise, was Mexican chanteuse Silvana Estrada. Unknown by most in attendance, she took the stage and sang “El Condor Pasa” and…

This was the only performance wherein the audience hooped and hollered during the song, Estrada was just that good. And only Dwight got an equal amount of applause at the end. If Silvana did the same thing on tonight’s Grammy telecast she’d be a star overnight. She brought gravitas, but without heaviness. She respected the music but not to the point where it was living in a museum. It was contemporary. And with her crystalline voice… You had to be there.

And there were surprises, like Brett Dennen singing “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard.” I’ve seen this guy a number of times and never gotten it. But last night… He personalized the song just a bit, and he physically swung with the music, he added an extra element, to a song I don’t love to begin with.

Rufus Wainwright did a great “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” but what I marveled at most was this is a guy who’s a star who has never ever had a hit. Which is quite an achievement if you think about it. Rufus did it his way. And fans came to him.

The Larkin Poe sisters locked in on “Paranoia Blues,” from the unjustly forgotten first solo album. All the focus is on the “Graceland” era, the quiet debut and the as good as it gets “Rhymin’ Simon” have been pushed into the back seat, but they’re absolutely stellar. Stefan Grossman plays bottleneck on the original and I’ll say Megan Lovell trumped it last night. The two women energized the number, added a zest absent from the recording, lifting it to a higher, more intense level.

And Amanda Sudano of Johnnyswim was singing “René and Georgette Magritte with Their Dog after the War,” from “Hearts and Bones,” a favorite of the cognoscenti, and then her beefy husband Abner Ramirez opened his mouth and this mellifluous sound came out…I was positively stunned. It was so sweet, the opposite of his look.

And the way Abner treated Jackson Browne as a compatriot during the encore, putting his arm around his shoulder, unburdened by Jackson’s image, lightening the Southern California bard…

Yes, Jackson, who has allowed himself to age, whose hair is gray and was wearing glasses, gave a long intro to “I Am a Rock,” talking about the three minute limit of the singles of the sixties, and then he sang it. Everyone is so worried about their image, trying to look thirty when they’re seventy, it endeared me to Jackson, he was owning who he was, what was on the inside was what counted. And when he got to the lines:

“I have my books

And my poetry to protect me”

I was brought right back to the sixties, the pre-internet era, when we’d be home, in our cocoon. I never wrote poetry, but people did. We all read books, like Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle,” we were living in our heads sans exterior stimulation so much of the time. And we could feel outside. I resonated with the bygone paradigm.

Paul Simon left Columbia for Warner Bros. because the company promised him a movie deal. And a film ensued, “One Trick Pony.” It was not instantly forgotten, like the small films of today, but it was not a hit, yet I did see it on opening night and bought the soundtrack, with its opening song “Late in the Evening,” cut with New York cats different from his usual players. It had a stripped-down feel, there was room around the instruments, its magic grows on you over time, and I was surprised to hear Gaby Moreno do it last night. She was wearing a delicious silver suit, and nailed the rhythm of the original.

And Rodney Crowell did “Graceland” and then most of the assembled multitude came out and performed “You Can Call Me Al,” a surprising choice if you ask me. More about rhythm than melody, meaning it’s not easy to deliver live, never mind in an ensemble. But they fell into the groove and the horn came in as an exclamation point and all was well.

Now I didn’t mention everybody…then it would just be a laundry list. As it is the above reads so much like a recitation of what was. But that’s the kind of evening it was, one performance after another, all interesting, not only because of the playing, but the underlying material.

Yes, I pondered how they’d do the same with today’s artists twenty or thirty years down the line. In today’s 808 one chord culture. But there are people taking the road less traveled, like those on stage last night. And they are not only the heart and soul of Americana, they’re the heart and soul of America. Yes, living, breathing. Machines don’t do that. I’m not saying you can’t make good music on a computer, I’m just saying it’s not alive, not breathing the same way as people playing acoustic instruments and singing sans effects. That’s what touches you.

So I could have been at Clive Davis’s party last night…actually, no I could not have, not with all the negative things I’ve written about the man. Clive needs the attention, he’s trying to be remembered, but it’s the music that lasts, if it’s lucky. And usually it’s not the hits that enter our bodies and never leave, that make our lives worth living, but the album tracks, the left field stuff, the more human stuff, the stuff with less of a sheen.

And we had a whole night of it yesterday. The stars of the Americana world, even number one, Jason Isbell, all together on stage. Because when it comes to music in America…you can play it anywhere, but there are few meccas. Not only the poor people have been squeezed out of Manhattan, but the middle class too. The musicians are now being squeezed out of Brooklyn. So if you’re a player, you end up in Nashville or L.A. Not only for the business, but the cross-pollination with other singers and players. 

You can live in the hinterlands and the acts last night will come through your town, but only one at a time, they all won’t be on the same stage on one single evening.

But they made the pilgrimage here for Grammy week. Or already live in SoCal. Such that they could get together and create magic last night. Not for the money, but for the joy. As Joni Mitchell would say, they were playing real good for free.

“I wake up in the morning and I raise my weary head

I’ve got an old coat for a pillow and the earth was last night’s bed”

People forget that Jeff Beck played the guitar on “Blaze of Glory,” if they even knew it in the first place.

It was the height of Jovimania. Not quite like Swiftmania, in that it was easier to get a ticket, Bon Jovi wasn’t playing multiple stadium dates, but conversely everybody under the age of fifty knew that Tommy used to work on the docks.  Today we’re living on a prayer, but back in the eighties perception was things were good. Reagan had legitimized greed, but most people didn’t realize that vast income inequality would ensue and ultimately fracture the nation.

And watching the video last night, of Jon Bongiovi back in the eighties, it was apparent how long ago that was. With the big hair and spandex. I lived through it, but at this point it’s laughable, and host Jim Gaffigan did a good job of poking fun at Jon and the era.

Now usually Musicares is all about the schmooze-fest, you can do a year’s worth of business in one night, because everybody is there. As for the music? Only those in the back in tuxedos seem to be paying attention throughout.

So what you’ve got is a bona fide star with too many has-beens and flavors of the moment performing bad renditions of their hits. Even worse, the lag time between songs could be interminable. Then again, that offered the chance to go out in the lobby and kibbitz.

But last night the show ran like live TV. Tight. And that was a blessing.

But what was not expected was how good the performances would be, at least up to a point.

So Bon Jovi opened the show, and the only person I remember doing this is Paul McCartney, a few years back. The band hit the intro to “Magical Mystery Tour” and heads exploded. But I must say, McCartney and his wife were sitting two tables up and I didn’t tingle. Which I found surprising. Not a reflection on the man, but me. Somehow I’ve hit a point where we’re all just people. Doing our thing.

And the thing the musicians do is to take the stage, amp it up, and entertain us. Does not mean they’re reasonable people, does not mean they live reasonable lives, but what it does mean is they can do this one thing, that gains our attention and makes our lives worthwhile.

Bon Jovi began with a new song. Which is not a choice I would make. And did not follow that up with a legendary hit. Then again, the rest of the roster had to do the iconic numbers, right?

Well, I knew that Springsteen was going to come out and play with Jon, but I did not expect them to play “The Promised Land.” The dogs on mainstream howled and we understood that this was the essence of rock and roll. Springsteen showed, despite the recent passing of his mother, and he smiled and played his Fender and all was right in the world. I stood and sang, like so many. “Darkness” is the best Springsteen album, concise and meaningful. And to hear a number live, what else could you expect?

Not much more.

So when Gaffigan started talking about a woman who won Grammys and had breast cancer I figured it was Sheryl Crow, who’s been making the rounds recently.

I was not prepared for Melissa Etheridge. In tight leather pants and a leather cowboy hat. With Larkin Poe as support.

“I’m goin’ down in a blaze of glory

Take me now, but know the truth”

I was stupefied. What I was experiencing was BETTER than the Bon Jovi original. Something I’ve never seen before. Because Melissa put her all into the song, she was the song, and when Etheridge is on… Let me just say her performance of “I’m the Only One” is one of the two best performances I ever saw on Letterman’s late night show. Megan Lovell’s slide guitar didn’t quite reach Beckian heights, but who can?

When it was over… WHEW! I can’t really convey how positively mesmerizing and powerful Melissa’s performance of the number was, you had to be there. And isn’t that the essence of the live concert experience?

Okay, it can only go downhill from here. These Musicares experiences are not transcendent, that’s not the way the evening goes.

But then 39 year old country rap sensation Jelly Roll rolled out on stage and kicked “Bad Medicine” right through the goalpost, probably impressing Robert Kraft, who was sitting at Bon Jovi’s table. Jelly Roll is as wide as he is tall. The antithesis of a rock star. But man, watching him you got it, the energy, the excitement, it felt thrilling to be in the presence of a man having his moment, impacting the culture, breaking all the rules in age and appearance.

Followed by Lainey Wilson’s “We Weren’t Born to Follow.” Not the most major of Bon Jovi hits, but she was into it. She was wearing the de rigueur country hat, and sang with a twang, but she moved her body like a rocker, as if she had no bones. She was wearing a green suit and appeared like no one so much as Gumby. She was feeling it, she was not punching the clock.

And then the man with the voice came out and did “It’s My Life.” Yes, Pat Monahan of Train has the pipes, and this was good, but unlike what came before, it was not transcendent.

Whereupon Shania Twain took the stage. And all I could think about was how Mutt Lange took a middling country act and made her the biggest star in the world. And we all know how it ended, but Shania, er, Eileen, was convincing on “Bed of Roses.” Actually, her performance was better than the song. And her image befit the legend. However, I must admit, and will probably be excoriated for it, she looked she hadn’t had a bite since 2021. I mean to be that skinny…

But then came the second peak. Well, maybe the third if you’re counting “Promised Land.” No one could reach the height of Melissa Etheridge, that was as good as it gets. But Jason Isbell took the stage…

In a nightrider outfit. You know long black coat with matching hat. Like he just got up from the campfire and is gonna play a number on his gee-tar before he saddles up and rides into the next county.

And that gee-tar around his neck is a double-necked Gibson. Which confuses me, because most of the leads, the defining parts, had been played by the backup band.

But then those indelible notes begin. The best, if not the most famous, Bon Jovi song ever, “Wanted Dead Or Alive.” Kept alive by its used in “Deadliest Catch” and elsewhere. Back in the day, Jon and Richie would take the stage and do it acoustic for the masses watching TV.

But last night was fully electric, like the original and…WHO KNEW JASON ISBELL COULD PLAY THE GUITAR!

“It’s all the same, only the names will change

Every day it seems we’re wastin’ away

Another place where the faces are so cold

I’d drive all night just to get back home”

Jaw-dropping. Jason Isbell is an Americana artist. Specializing in heartfelt numbers, sung in a straightforward way. But here he’s screwing up all his power, pushing his voice into the upper register and straining and damn, if that’s not rock and roll… It was like Johnny Cash revisited, but more intense. It was eerie. Isbell was charismatic. A complete surprise and an unbelievable highlight.

I’d like to say the rest was as good.

But Johnny Rzeznik hit the stage with his Goo Goo Dolls partner Robby Takac and all I could think was it was time to change his hairstyle. Bon Jovi has. Yet even more impressive, he’s let his hair go gray. But Rzeznik is locked in amber, it made him into a nostalgia act, and it’s his own fault.

But then The War and Treaty came out and completely redefined “I’ll Be There for You.” This too was even better than the original. They turned it into something akin to a gospel number. Redefined it. Nobody knew who they were, but no one will forget their performance.

And then came the true rockers, from Bon Jovi’s neighborhood. And the disappointment began.

Mammoth WVH thrashed like Musicares performers of the past. Bludgeoned through “It’s My Life” and all you wanted to do was look away.

I will say Sammy Hagar bounced on stage with Orianthi and they blasted through “You Give Love a Bad Name,” but it was faithful to the original, and although it evidenced energy, they were competing with those who’d blown the roof off the place.

In other words, just when I thought this was the second best Musicares ever, the show went downhill.

Oh, number one? No one can top Aretha, ever! Kind of like Prince at the Super Bowl.

The assembled multitude, sans Etheridge, too momentous to play nice with others, did an ensemble version of “Livin’ on a Prayer” to end the evening, and Jon was smiling and everybody was hitting the notes, but all I could think about were Etheridge and Isbell. And The War and Treaty.

Now these industry events are clusterf*cks. Usually most people talk through the performances and leave early, no matter who is on stage. You don’t expect much. So I was gobsmacked by so many performances last night.

And that’s what they were, performances. Up close and personal in an industry environment where…everyone’s seen the trick, everyone is jaded, everyone knows stars, it’s hard to impress the crowd. But last night these acts did their jobs, as in they took the stage and gave it their all. I’m sophisticated enough to know that offstage they are almost never these people (excluding Steven Tyler, that’s who this cat really is, 24/7). But even if you can’t suspend disbelief, when the music is playing you let go, you’re caught up in it, you sing at the top of your lungs.

Speaking of which, when I sang the echo “wanted” during “Wanted Dead or Alive” David Bryan turned around and gave me a look…

So you had to be there.

Because these were once in a lifetime performances. And three were definitely worth seeing and will continue to be remembered. It’s nearly impossible to hit these heights, some people stop even trying. No one can perform at 11 every night, even though Springsteen tries. But when you give it your all and deliver that extra indefinable something…

That’s rock and roll.

Tune in Saturday February 3rd to Faction Talk, channel 103, at 4 PM East, 1 PM West.

Phone #: 844-686-5863

Twitter: @lefsetz

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