Last night (February 15th) was the Brit Awards. Supposedly the highlight of British musical calendar, it’s in the past been just an evening of celebratory back-slapping. But for 2011, the approach had changed.
This year, the Brits were “all about the music”. So much so, that any (and every) opportunity to praise British music was shamelessly taken, almost to the point where it seemed like a bit of an ‘in joke’ that only the attendees were privy to.
As much as I wanted him to fail miserably at this, James Corden actually put in a pretty good shift as compere for the evening. Pretty good in terms of fronting the Brits does not equate to award-winning presenting skills, but the ability to avoid being upstaged by other or being compared to Sam Fox and Mick Fleetwood.
After Peter Kay toiled last year, the producers clearly wanted a much safer, less edgy host and in Corden they seemed to have their man. Towards the tail end of the broadcast he did wobble on the tightrope by stroking Justin Bieber’s face, as well as appearing to go off-script in the second half of the show like a boxer told to just “go out and throw punches”. His introduction of Alan Carr as a man who had sold out a venue as large as the O2 (a feat he could only dream of) must have stung, yet somehow he kept it together.
In terms of performances, the Brits always offer diversity in pop music, as well as professionalism and family entertainment values. Take That opened the show by performing complete with dancers in riot police costumes armed with batons, who were given about an hour off before being going through a different routine with Plan B. I understand that a lot of record companies face financial struggles due to falling sales, but its nice to see artists collaborating to book the same props and backing dancers.
But for every energetic performance, there was one of singers just affixed to a point on stage (Mumford and Sons / Adele were the main offenders in this) and while it’s “all about the music”, a little theatrics goes a long way for these events.
Being asked to perform is almost a sure fire way to guarantee not going home empty handed, this year being no exception. All who performed picked up a gong of some kind, except for the curiously unlikable Paloma Faith whose duet with Cee Lo Green was thankfully moved to the end of the show in the hope that those watching at home had switched channels, and those in attendance had switched from wine to champagne.
Canadian band Arcade Fire (pictured at top) were amongst the biggest winners on the night, taking off with Best International Album and Best International Group; but along with Laura Marling (who surprised many by claiming the Best British Female award) their reception was limited to those who knew their work prior to the awards. Tinie Tempah also stepped into the commercially acceptable rap & hip hop slot left unattended by Dizzee Rascal, going home with Best British Male and Best Single for ‘Pass Out’.
For a ceremony all about the music, offering out awards to the likes of Mumford & Sons and Justin Beiber did detract from the validity of the evening, but the biggest problem with the Brit awards isn’t the music, it’s the manner in which the evening is stage managed almost to the point of stifling the fun out of proceedings.
The Brits are never going to be as slick or as sharp as their American counterparts in the Grammys, so next year, I’d personally like to see a ceremony with a little more edge to it. Because if there’s a little more excitement, then there’s a lot more talking points, because it seems that the main tabloid focus was that Cheryl Cole was at the ceremony; not to perform, but just to pass on Best International Female to her “girl crush” Rihanna, who should have been reminded that miming is an “all or nothing” performance ethic before she took to the stage.
But, it’s all about the music, right?
Paul
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