Grammy watch

All I can say is, “Thank God for Sam Moore.” In fact, everyone in the last set did so well that it almost made me forget how bad the Sly Stone tribute was. They could all sing and/or play an instrument and they all had enough years on them to bring some depth to their work. Moore is the “Sam” of Sam and Dave, and if you didn’t know that when he came on, you could figure it out quickly from his distinctive voice and the necklace he wore that said “Sam.” Even the muffed lyrics during his duet of “Midnight Hour” with Springsteen were fun.

I felt sorry for Sly Stone even before he came out. When the most talented people doing your songs are Aerosmith—and they seem vaguely embarassed by those around them—you know you’re in trouble. And when poor Sly did come out with his head twisted in an unnatural position and his hands moving hesitantly across the keyboard, it was almost more than I could bear.

And while I have the horror of that set in my mind, let me make a plea to the great music award show masters to stop with the Joss Stone already. I’ve seen her in a couple of these shows now, and I get it. Really, I get it. She’s a young white girl—from England, even, and you can’t get any whiter than that—who sings the blues. Oh, oh, oh, and what’s even wilder: she doesn’t wear shoes! That about covers it, right? I’ve passed the test and can move on to a Jossless existence? Thank you.

Wait—one more thing. Does it really reflect well on your industry to have a truly talented musician like Herbie Hancock playing backup for Christina Aguilera? The man played with Miles Davis, for Christ’s sake! And now he’s noodling along while she completely misinterprets “A Song for You.” Have you no sense of decency? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?