2/9/06 Grammy Party

Last night I went to the party the Recording Academy holds for its members in New York. It’s kind of a boobie prize when the Grammys are in LA.

I got to the city at 6:30 and found a seven o’clock parking place, so I had to sit in my car for a half hour. (The things we do for parking in NYC)

I tried calling a few friends to chat with during my wait, but to no avail. While I was waiting a man came out of an apartment with a dog. The dog seemed like she couldn’t want to hit the street to urinate. She had the look in her eyes like a little kid who just makes it to the bathroom.

A few minutes later a woman comes walking by with a large dog. She isn’t paying any attention to the dog who stops to lick the puddle of urine the other dog left. The woman keeps walking while her dog has stopped. When she gets to the end of the leash she is surprise to be jerked backwards by the weight of her large dog.

So she scolds the dog and gets him walking. As he walks he is flicking is tongue as if he can’t get a bad taste out of his mouth. It all looks a little comical, until a few steps later a yuppie couple with their babe in arms comes from the other direction. The babe is wrapped up in a heavy snow jacket that makes its arms stick straight out to the sides. On its head is a powder blue knit hat that comes to a point on top with a fuzzy ball on the tip.

When they see the woman they want to show the babe the nice doggie. The yuppies and the dog walker stop and the yuppies stand the babe in front of the dog. The dog cheerfully licks the babe’s face and everyone smiles and laughs. The dog woman either forgot what the dog was doing a few seconds earlier or she is secretly getting her revenge on the yuppies with their happy relationship and their cute babe while she just has this piss licking dog to walk around with. In this case it’s truly enough to make you wanna gag!

When I get to the party, as I come near the door I am a little leery. As soon as I walk inside I can see the venue is kind of a dud. Last year’s party was in a great room with big screens everywhere, lots of booze, lots of beautiful people, filled with energy.

This new place is a long hallway, small TV screens, and everyone looks a little uncomfortable. I walk to the end and start looking for other floors that I hope will be a little more exciting. On the stairs I see Carlos Alamar who was David Bowie’s guitar player for many years.

The 2nd floor is the VIP section, the likes of me are not welcomes, and the third floor is another party room. The screens here are even smaller. I grab one of the few remaining seats and decide to wait it out for my friend Heather who is due to arrive an hour later.

As the screens shows the red carpet walk the room begins to fill with people. Fiona Apple is standing trying to pose while flashbulbs go off in her face. Each second she looks more distressed by the attention.

A pretty blonde girls sits down beside me who turns out to be a harpist who plays for Kanye West when he plays the East Coast.

As the room fills the place looks a little sad. It definitely looks like the B-List crowd. Everyone’s looking to be noticed. Sometimes wearing faded clothes that must have been shiny new stage costumes 5 years ago. Few have the look and walk of confidence that success brings.

I get a free Henieken and sit back down. The Grammy start and Kelly Clarkson is sweeping the awards. When she wins for best female pop song she makes a big scene about trying not to cry, after all she’s just the country girl who won the talent contest. It all seemed a little put on.

When a bit later she wins for best artist in the history of the universe she goes on a fast talking tirade of thank yous while still doing the trying not to cry bit. After her performance the camera cuts to Nichole Kidman in the audience who has a look of cynical disbelief on her face, her expression echoes my own feelings perfectly.

As the show goes on Heather is very late. I grow increasingly bored with the whole affair. The only thing keeping me here is the possibility that Sly Stone will come out of retirement and perform at a planned tribute.

I go back to the bar to get a vodka and seven and it is a mad house. They only have one bartender for the whole room. A great way to avoid giving out too much free booze. The harpist girl is holding my seat while I wait at the bar. A woman comes up beside me who has dark hair and a perfect face. Her breasts are stuck out like a desert tray and her fingernails are long and curled. The fingernails aren’t very nice looking but they say, “I don’t do work, the only thing I am good for is to look at.”

And she was good to look at, almost amazing. As she squeezes into the bar her face is just a few inches from mine. I try to ignore her at first, but it’s too much and I finally give in and just take her in with a leisurely gaze. She looks up at me briefly, obviously pleased that her appearance has had the intended effect on me.

Back at my seat I am growing more and more bored. You can tell the alcohol is kicking in all around the room. People seem to be closing down from each other. Everyone’s a little bored. To my right the girl from the bar sits beside another young woman who is sitting beside an elderly man. Soon the young women begin to wander away from their elderly escort and flirt with younger men at the bar. The elderly man sits alone looking dejected. Occasionally the young women come back and check on him briefly as a matter of duty.

As the night goes on the whole room is starting to wilt. Heather is hours late and I am growing really sick of the whole affair. As 10 O’clock nears the room is thinning out. Heather finally shows smelling of stale garlic from the Pizza she and he girlfriends were eating in Staten Island.

When the Sly Stone tribute finally comes on there is a swell of applause in the room. A bunch of pop stars whose names I don’t know are singing his hits. It’s all a bore, I just want to see Sly. As Marroon five sings Everyday people I began to lose hope. Finally during Dance To The Music Sly comes out dressed in a large silver jacket and wearing a gold Mohawk. He looks amazing, but he can’t seem to hold his head up. It faces down like his neck is unhinged. When he sings a few lines his voice sounds amazing, but after a few moments he turns and leaves the stage. It’s all very mysterious.

Sly and the Family Stone created the template for The Imperial Orgy. I’d love to see his make a comeback.

As soon as he leaves the stage, heather and I exit the party. Next year I’m going to the real Grammys. Fuck this depressing B-List shit.