Last Sunday’s Grammys held few surprises as it trudged through the usual paces. The monotony began on the red carpet, awash with classic but safe black gowns. There were no outlandish expressions of glamour. There were no Givenchy Couture masterpieces, Dior extravaganzas or Versace showstoppers. Well, there was one major Versace piece, but it didn’t come in the form of a sumptuous dress, but rather a satin duchesse hooded cape worn by Nicki Minaj. 

The cape was a Little Red Riding Hood meets Catholic cardinal moment, emblazoned with the Versace logo in black. Accompanying Minaj was a man dressed as the pope. She continued to flesh out this trope in her performance of “Roman Holiday” later that night. A confessional booth, ecclesiastical imagery and dancing monks sure drove the theme home. Yet the overall effect was more boring than shocking. It did not have the careful art direction or dramatic stigma of a Gaga video, or any real cultural currency for that matter. By now, there is nothing new in mocking the grandeur and histrionics of the Vatican. Madonna pulled this card several decades ago in her music while Maurizio Cattelan's famous 1999 sculpture, La Nona Oralso, which depicted a meteorite hitting the pope, proved some artists feel the same.

At least Minaj aimed for a level of novelty in her presentation. Many of the other performers did not. The predominance of older male singers like the Beach Boys, Bruce Springsteen and Paul McCartney reinforces the staid air of the event. These are performers who know their act and follow through on it to the point of perfecting it. But innovation is not their thing. 

The Grammy organizers seemed to be trying hard to please everyone, which may indeed be their job, and this resulted in sloppy bricolage. Case in point was the cacophony of David Guetta, Deadmau5, Chris Brown, Lil Wayne and Foo Fighters on stage, mashing it up. This is the culinary equivalent to putting everything from the kitchen into a blender together for dinner. Tastes clash, mixing together for an unwelcome flavor.

No one would be at all surprised to find out that Adele took home every major award at the ceremony. Yes, that Adele, the Adele who topped all charts, flooded all airwaves, was remixed, rehashed and replayed until we all wanted to set fire to that rain. Adele has been hailed as a beacon of raw, unprocessed talent in an era of digital dominance. It was clear that the Grammys, a conduit for the old guard music industry, supports this view. One can imagine the phalanx of old guys with guitars nodding along to Adele but rejecting the latest in house or electronic and dismissing it as “inauthentic” and less “real” than what they made back in the 1960s, music they are apparently still playing at the Grammys today. 

This seemed to be the main take-away of the awards show: a standoff between the authentic and the produced. Springsteen on one side of the scale, Minaj on the other. What could have been a celebration of innovation and creativity instead felt like a tired argument that everyone would lose. Of course there is value in raw musical talent that cuts through the noise. And increasingly, we also find value in the energy and creativity of heavily produced personas and the tracks they create. But neither of these poles was reached in this presentation. It was a difficult act to simultaneously pull off, but on Sunday night authenticity felt old and creativity fell flat.