Oh Dear Rowley,
Grammy Awards? Last night? The music business has completely eaten itself and become a parody of a parody of a joke. Ella? Sinatra? Class? What became of? The biggest name on the bill right now (read Twitter) is Katy Perry: a pair of porn star boobs with eyes like a Disney Princess. I quite like her music. It is terribly camp and non-threatening to a Tween audience…not that she can actually sing live.
Was old mother Gaga there? Didn’t see her did you? If t’were true I’d imagine she was wearing a tatty bit of tinfoil exposing thighs and boobs like badly shaped Bake-O-Foil signed Versace. Gianni would turn in his grave to see what’s being peddled under his name these days. Can you tell my sinuses are again in flames and the suicide migraines making me to be a little bit impatient tonight?
So the Grammy Awards: what a load of old s**** as Nan Taylor would say. I think we reached a nadir when a tattooed lady, a rapping fuckwit and Madonna dressed as Boss Hogg with camel toe ‘blessed’ thirty-three ‘marriages’ gay, straight, bisexual, transgender and multi-cultural. At an awards ceremony. Televised. Attended by multi-millionaires. What was the agenda? Irrelevant compared to the lack of musicality or taste.
I have always adored Madonna. She was the soundtrack to my youth. She thrilled me with Like A Virgin, Material Girl, Express Yourself and Vogue up to and including Confessions on the Dance Floor. I now think she has become a rather desperate character longing for attention and applause. You cannot – cannot! – publicly text your white teenage son and call him a ‘Nigga’. You cannot wear clothes that you know will be papped that make you look like Barbie’s Granny.
Love Madonna and worshipped her in Evita but really dear there comes a time in every Salome’s career when she cannot afford to drop the seventh veil. The clothes are now in shockingly bad taste. The face is plumped like a duvet and a bit mad-eyed. The hair is probably now a wig. I know Rowley, those in glass houses shouldn’t. Just shouldn’t. But Madonna is a sexy broad. She can age-up with grace and style not comedic vulgarity.
Or maybe she can’t. I am now hyper aware I cannot be undignified after forty. I am also not a multi-millionairess who sells out stadiums with enough talent to launch rockets. But then again I am not putting myself out there as M is. If I were she – and chance would be a fine thing – I would go to ground, record a ballad album and do an evening at the Royal Albert Hall called twenty songs one dress.
I do think when you get to an age that you have to stop trying to be down wit da kids and lead by example. Why would you bother doing anything else? It was bad for Madonna after last year’s Met Ball. The theme was punk. She did Betty Paige in a dodgy tartan with torn fishnet tights. She also walked the runway alone. This might be preferable to dragging your bewildered children to an A-list global event wearing suits as if tailored for child vampires.
Come on lady! You are fabulous. M, you can’t make many more mistakes neither sartorial nor of age appropriateness. It is time to adjust to your age. You try to be bitching juvenile pop star when you are really the First Lady of contemporary music. Let’s face it the competition two decades below yours are really a bit s****.
Britney went bi-polar and ended up in Vegas. Rhianna – or Rhiannon – is just a bore. Gaga is great with her fans but too desperate to have the stamina to succeed and reinvent. As for the new stars, I don’t really know enough about them to know.Miley Cyrus is a girl who needs her bottom smacked rather than being allowed to star in a pop video swinging off a wrecking ball and licking kittens or domestic appliances from a tool kit. The minute Madonna duets with Miley it is over.
My sleeper hit is La Aguilera: a bit like La Farmer but without natural hair, style or life experience. I get the feeling so many of the young ‘stars’ need to get a life. How can you sing without a tad of experience? Sure you can bump, grind and shake it all behind but you cannot deliver a lyric written by your elders or betters.
Very few will get off their asses for these old broads when they pass sixty…just seeing if you’re paying attention. The secret to a good career is reinvention and resolution. Madonna has this in spades. She might wear a dodgy weave at the Met Ball one year but next year she will still be here and still be relevant. Which of us could say the same? Not the Wicked Witch of the West End and that is for sure. Until next time…