Staff Reports
In the latest episode of the ongoing saga known as “Hollywood’s Fancy Dress Parties,” we had the Grammys providing another moment of resplendent absurdity. Imagine you’re a fan of music—or perhaps just someone who occasionally enjoys melodies that don’t hurt the ears—and then imagine tuning into an event where the glitterati not only serenade you with their latest hits but also make it a point to tell you how to think about politics. It’s as if we all collectively decided to watch one long, self-aggrandizing infomercial for a world where everyone’s a rebel, albeit a very wealthy one.
Take Billy, the chanteuse who decided to bless the audience with her take on immigration policies. She triumphantly declared that no one is illegal on stolen land, a sentiment that surely resonates with many. Yet, when hypothetically asked to give back her sprawling Los Angeles mansion to its rightful landowners—the Native American Fagawi tribe—it seems the idea of returning it to ‘poverty, primitivism, and savagery’ didn’t strike her fancy. Perhaps she expected a standing ovation instead of logical follow-ups. Oh well, at least she managed to do all of this with her signature style of barely wanting to listen to her own music.
Then we have the enigmatic Bad Bunny, who won accolades for creating what could be described as a genre-bending album. His acceptance speech had all the fire and brimstone one might expect from someone who demands federal officers stop doing their jobs. Federal immigration officers, unperturbed, carried on with their day, unfazed by the disdain flung their way from whatever parallel universe the award show broadcasts from. With a Super Bowl halftime show looming, one wonders if he’ll manage to school the audience on geopolitics while clad in an outfit that defies both nature and fabrics.
Of course, Keelani, a singer known as much for her wardrobe choices as her musical stylings, joined in the fray. Her message was less about harmony and more about inspiring the youth to stand up to authority with the aggression of a rock concert mosh pit. It’s nice to think these performances will be fondly reminisced by fans within the echo of prison walls, but alas, the 15 minutes seem to be running out on this hourglass.
In the end, the Grammys might continue to be a celebration of music, but it’s really a platform where artists get to channel their inner Socrates. Whether or not the audience tunes in for the performances or the political sermons is anyone’s guess. But if there’s one thing that’s clear, it’s that the spectacle of artists boldly challenging the status quo while comfortably perched on the flotation devices known as their bank accounts provides its own entertainment—whether it was intended or not!
