Catfights, jackasses and metaphysics at the 2003 MTV Europe Awards
November 21, 2003 | 12:00am
"As I walked along a supposed golden path/
I was confronted by a mysterious specter of sadness…"
The Golden Path by the Chemical Brothers (featuring Wayne Coyne)
Gaudi and gaudy. Hip and kitschy. Moby and Bon Jovi. A singing vamp named Kylie (who’s on every man’s dream buffet table) and a transvestite VJ named Deborah Hombres (whose name is loosely translated as "the girl who eats men"). These dichotomies best describe the MTV Europe Awards held last year in Barcelona, Spain, which was hosted by Sean Combs aka Puff Daddy aka P. Diddy, a rap mogul who is also a walking (rapping, gun-toting) contradiction.
How could one not characterize last year’s EMA as just that, when Moby answered (or attempted to answer) questions from a French reporter about entropy and Chaos Theory, while outside VJ Deborah conducted a best butt contest with Kylie as adjudicator? That was the charm of Barcelona, the city of Miro, Picasso, voyagers, soap opera goddesses, pickpockets and gypsies.
This year in Edinburgh, Scotland, MTV was all metaphysics. Well, MTV just couldn’t help but be otherworldly. This year’s performers included the Chemical Brothers, which joined forces with the Flaming Lips for a trippy, spiritual ditty about transcendence titled The Golden Path. (Dig its line "All the lions and wizards yet to come…") The Black Eyed Peas did a track called Where is the Love? Ironic glam rock The Darkness played I Believe in a Thing Called Love. Beyoncé Knowles’ Crazy in Love won as Best Song. (Ahh, love – we all know that there is no concept more preposterous than that ancient delirium.)
It helped that REM vocalist Michael Stipe, who presented the Free Your Mind award, talked about more essential matters than making music to make big bucks. It also helped that Dirrty diva Christina Aguilera hosted this year’s show. Is there anything more compelling, more otherworldly, more worthy of worship than Aguilera’s ass? I mean you could practically build an entire religion around it.
Plus, any bloke for that matter (this clueless writer in particular) who steps into the Scottish capital would easily notice how hyper-reality suffuses that city. Rule No. 1: Leave cold logic at the airport locker in order to plumb the aura that is Edinburgh, a city of sinister castles, quirky architecture, dizzying alleys, succulent sheep-stomach-bag meals, eerie underground vaults, and grown men in skirts. In short, prepare to be puzzled by this beautifully creepy city. Rule No. 2: Never ever take a cab from Edinburgh Airport to the hotel – which I did and it cost me a metaphysical sum of money. I nearly crapped in my pants when I saw the cab meter, and I hadn’t even seen the dreaded ghosts of Burke and Hare.
Same as last year’s EMA gig, MTV corporate affairs and communications director Rod Nepomuceno arranged everything, so all I had to do was show up at the Mount Royal Ramada Jarvis Hotel. Several pounds poorer, I made it to the cute boutique hotel overlooking the Edinburgh Castle, the Scott Monument and the Gardens. I got my press credentials at the Apex International Hotel, and was really impressed with how the city of Edinburgh (via organizations like the Scottish Enterprise, The City of Edinburgh Council, Edinburgh & Lothians Tourist Board and Visit Scotland) welcomed journalists from all over the world, giving the press free access to various attractions. I joined the informative city tour (led by a Peter Sellers look-alike) and the petrifying ghosts and gore tour (led by a Peter Cushing look-alike), but not before consuming ridiculous amounts of ale and Guinness – but that’s another article altogether.
Just as the stars walked down the red carpet, I got to Ocean Terminal Arena in Leith, Edinburgh to join my colleagues from Britain, Scotland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Portugal, Spanish, France, Russia and the States. I fell into a conversation with Rita from Portugal, Louise from England and Katrina from Germany, as Westlife’s remake of Mandy wafted in the air. I wanted to tell the female journalists how brave of Westlife to sing a ballad reputedly written for a dog (or worse, for another guy), but we ended up talking about the simmering catfight between Christina Aguilera and Kelly Osbourne.
The spat, for me, was one of the highlights of this year’s EMA. It was so rock ‘n’ roll (rock ‘n’ roll with tons of makeup, lots of ass and a mean mouth, to be exact). Kelly was supposed to interview stars as they arrive, but Christina refused to walk the red carpet unless VJ Kelly hauled her butt away. The daughter of the Prince of Darkness retaliated by saying on-air that Aguilera is a "bit of a cow" and her music is "crap." Nangamoy dugo.
But that was not the end of the battle of evil verus evil.
Skits showed clownish Christina hitting Kelly’s picture with a dart. The Empire of tastelessness and cellulite struck back: Osbourne as presenter lamented, "If Christina Aguilera has to resort to throwing darts at my head after everything she’s achieved and everything she’s done, then she’s a really sad, sorry person. And I take it as a complete compliment." She got boos for her bellyaching, though.
Aguilera had the last laugh by retorting, "Honey, if you can dish it out, you’ve got to learn how to take it back." The Dirrty diva won handily that evening, mainly because she practically held the microphone half the night. But I got the feeling Kelly will have her revenge. Hey, her father was in Black Sabbath (with songs like War Pigs and Hand of Doom), for crying out loud.
As the journalists discussed the sluttish skirmish (to believe or not to believe?), elsewhere, along Princes Street (in front of the hotel I was staying in) was the gig called MTV in the Gardens. Here Jane’s Addiction, the Flaming Lips, the Chemical Brothers and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club performed and reminded everyone what rock ‘n’ roll was really about: heady grooves, compelling lyrics and an insidious backbeat.
Sidelights at the pre-show were legion.
Shirley Manson of Garbage was asked about a duet with the "Anti-Christ" (meaning Marilyn Manson), and she answered, "I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anti-Christ who?" I think that collaboration would do the Manson family proud.
Justin Timberlake was asked if Christina’s Mouseketeer background would help her as EMA host. Justin answered (or at least mouthed words) without actually answering the question, if you get my drift. Like how Filipino public officials answer charges of corruption.
Vinn Diesel, who wore a leather kilt at the EMA, was interviewed, and he was able to worm out a plug of his new movie, which he characterized as The Lord of the Rings in space. Which is what, Star Wars?
Jean Paul Gaultier poked fun at past EMA hosts Wyclef Jean’s and P. Diddy’s attires, and called Combs "Poop Daddy." Afterwards, Gaultier was shown wearing a skimpy zebra underwear while hosting the ’95 EMA in Paris.
The three guys and a girl of Black Eyed Peas talked about Where is the Love? and how a lot of people related to the message. Yes, love has been bandied about ever anon, but where the f*ck is it really?
The Peas was a whiff of sobering air in that otherwise crazy circus of a pre-show. The same can be said about Michael Stipe. But if Stipe is to conscience, Jackass is to everything cock-eyed and revolting. Two dudes from Jackass, Chris Pontius and fat Preston Lacy wrought havoc to the pressroom.
Lacy: (Tumbling down and then rising up to clean his nails) I like Travis.
Pontius: I thought they were sexy.
A female journalist asked Chris about the Jackass spin-off.
Pontius: Come back to me when you’ve put on 200 pounds (smirks). The idea for the new show is for me to die.
Lacy: It’s actually a new nature show. It’s not about Chris’ homosexuality.
Pontius: I’m going face to face with a Great White Shark. And if all goes as planned, I wouldn’t be around to talk about the show (sneers).
Lacy: Hey, the people here are expecting you to do something stupid.
Pontius: Yeah! I didn’t come here to die from syphilis. You want to see my toot-toot?
LACY: Chris, show ‘em your toot-toot!
Cheers and jeers from everyone, as Pontius whips out his toot-toot and twirls it around.
Pontius: I call this "The Helicopter."
So much for the metaphysical shit.
Christina Aguilera came out of a cake in the show’s glitzy opening and, throughout this year’s EMA dressed as 1) a nun 2) a Missing Persons impersonator 3) a Cindy Lauper doppelganger 4) Cleopatra in pink. Her ass, of course, made a very special appearance, just short of taking requests from the audience. What a performer! Er, Christina, I mean.
Hey, the EMA is not an event without some truly fabulous performances through the years. The Foo Fighters rocked the house in Barcelona. In Frankfurt, Jimmy Page performed an acoustic version of Led Zep’s Thank You with grunts from Limp Bizkit and Puddle of Mudd. (Unfortunately for genuine music fans; fortunately for rap metal poseurs who used to ledge-dance to the words "Everybody dance now!") Overly dramatic U2 was a smash in Stockholm. Supernatural Mariah Carey broke wineglasses in Dublin and other nearby areas. Madonna milked her moment in Milan. And the Spice Girls maxed out their 15 minutes of fame in Rotterdam.
Edinburgh was not far behind in the performance department. The Black Eyed Peas (with cameo from Justin Timberlake) played exceptionally well. So did the Chemical Brothers, Missy Eliot, Kraftwerk and Dido, among others.
It was only fitting that Michael Stipe introduced the White Stripes. The REM singer said there were cynical ones who think that music is dead, that all that’s left are hollow gestures and blank sentiments. He said he disagrees with them and offered Jack and Meg White as proof. It takes hip to know hip, after all. Afterwards, the garage rock duo began the brooding low-fidelity assault of Seven-Nation Army.
The Presidents of the United States of America had a bassist who played with only two strings; the White Stripes dispensed with the bassist altogether and has managed with two musicians. I think this band (along with The Strokes) did what Nirvana and the Sex Pistols accomplished in their respective eras: save rock ‘n’ roll from the clutches of mediocrity. Thus, it was also fitting that Jack and Meg got the Best Rock trophy from Perry Farrel and Dave Navarro of Jane’s Addiction, which saved rock ‘n’ roll from the clutches of poodle-haired glam metal bands in the forgettable ‘80s.
Rita of Portugal and I went bonkers when Navarro entered the pressroom and we got to talk to the guitarist (the architect of such blistering solos on Three Days, Stop and Summertime Rolls). I asked him what makes Jane’s Addiction relevant after all these years. "Gee, I haven’t thought of that in a long while," Dave said. "We just come together to make great art. That’s it. Relevance, or being relevant, has nothing to do with it."
It was hard to believe that the tattooed and body-pierced guitar hero (who has dabbled with heroin, cross-dressing, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Carmen Electra) could be so articulate, friendly and down-to-earth.
Then came The Darkness, an ironic glam metal band. You could say this group is a cross between Stryper and Spinal Tap. Justin Hawkins and the rest of the guys have the props to bear this out: white Gibson and Firebird guitars, fireworks, bombastic riffs, star jumps, silver jumpsuit, Scorpions/Cheap Trick-like squeals, etc. It was one of the high points of the evening.
The Darkness entered the pressroom and fielded questions. It was like watching This is Spinal Tap. One of the members of The Darkness asked the press, "Why are you guys sitting down and taking notes?" Somebody quietly told him it was a press conference. "A press conference? I thought it was a modesty panel." Laughter. Somebody asked Hawkins where he got his slick suit. He answered, "I will tell you, but I will have to kill you." Laughter again. Bassist Frankie Poullain was asked about his skull belt. He mumbled something indecipherable, then said, "That is all – I have nothing more to say about the matter." The guys were asked which artist would they like to collaborate with. Guitarist Dan Hawkins quipped, "Shirley Bassey, Stephen Hawking and anybody who has an interest in astrology." Laughter part III.
The strangest thing was, the four guys of The Darkness seem to come from different bands because of their irreconcilable getups: one is like the dude from Cheap Trick; one, from The Ramones; one, from Thin Lizzy; and one is Duff McKagan.
Kylie performed Slow, with fluorescent lamps (or were those light sabers?) and dancers resembling the Masculados and Sexbomb. Beyoncé did a diva routine with Sean Paul on Baby Boy. Electronic pioneers Kraftwerk escaped the undertakers of obscurity and performed on television for the first time. Travis in white matching outfits did a song titled Beautiful Occupation with a little help from 125 naked friends. The Black Eyed Peas (which come across as The Fugees featuring Jessica Simpson) performed the group’s breakthrough hit with Justin, who could give Michael Jackson a run for his llama food money. That was entertainment, but the entertaining wasn’t confined to the stage.
Here are some random, amusing quips from the press conference:
• "We never get any sleep," said Wil. I. Am of the Black Eyed Peas when asked about the disadvantages of success.
• "Absolutely no rehearsals with this group," said Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas about the group’s chemistry. On a totally unrelated subject, she said, "It took forever to do my hair."
• "I think of the songs in my head when I write, not about sales," said Dido about the pressures of following up a hit album. The inspiration, she added, came from "crazy imagination."
• "I probably look good in a Darkness outfit," opined Justin Timberlake.
• "It got your attention, didn’t it? This is our message to Blair and Bush," said Fran Healy of Travis about the use of naked people carrying anti-war placards. "Naked protest rocks!"
• "The White Stripes just killed," said Tom Rowlands about his favorite performance at the EMA.
Chemical Brother Ed Simons was not as magnanimous. On being reminded that they lost Best Dance award to Punjabi MC, Simons said, "I feel fu*kin’ pissed off." Rowlands tried to diffuse his partner’s anger, "It’s a good song, though." Simons blurted out, "One good song doesn’t make a songer."
Michael Stipe acted the role of artist with a conscience, and talked about the plight of MTV Free Your Mind award recipient Aung San Suu Kyi (Burma’s democratically elected leader and Nobel Peace laureate placed in detention by an oppressive military regime for the past 15 years). He even admonished the journalists at the EMA: "You must play the role of watchdog, since there are many things we don’t see in 24-hour US news channels."
About today’s music, Stipe shared, "Musicians are divided into two worlds. There are those who make music that plays in the background – in restaurants and clubs. And there are those who make fresh, new and exciting music, just like the White Stripes and the Neptunes."
Stipe’s right. Rock’s not dead. Yet.
Shantih… shantih… shantih…
For comments, suggestions, curses and invocations, e-mail iganja@hotmail.com.
I was confronted by a mysterious specter of sadness…"
The Golden Path by the Chemical Brothers (featuring Wayne Coyne)
Gaudi and gaudy. Hip and kitschy. Moby and Bon Jovi. A singing vamp named Kylie (who’s on every man’s dream buffet table) and a transvestite VJ named Deborah Hombres (whose name is loosely translated as "the girl who eats men"). These dichotomies best describe the MTV Europe Awards held last year in Barcelona, Spain, which was hosted by Sean Combs aka Puff Daddy aka P. Diddy, a rap mogul who is also a walking (rapping, gun-toting) contradiction.
How could one not characterize last year’s EMA as just that, when Moby answered (or attempted to answer) questions from a French reporter about entropy and Chaos Theory, while outside VJ Deborah conducted a best butt contest with Kylie as adjudicator? That was the charm of Barcelona, the city of Miro, Picasso, voyagers, soap opera goddesses, pickpockets and gypsies.
This year in Edinburgh, Scotland, MTV was all metaphysics. Well, MTV just couldn’t help but be otherworldly. This year’s performers included the Chemical Brothers, which joined forces with the Flaming Lips for a trippy, spiritual ditty about transcendence titled The Golden Path. (Dig its line "All the lions and wizards yet to come…") The Black Eyed Peas did a track called Where is the Love? Ironic glam rock The Darkness played I Believe in a Thing Called Love. Beyoncé Knowles’ Crazy in Love won as Best Song. (Ahh, love – we all know that there is no concept more preposterous than that ancient delirium.)
It helped that REM vocalist Michael Stipe, who presented the Free Your Mind award, talked about more essential matters than making music to make big bucks. It also helped that Dirrty diva Christina Aguilera hosted this year’s show. Is there anything more compelling, more otherworldly, more worthy of worship than Aguilera’s ass? I mean you could practically build an entire religion around it.
Plus, any bloke for that matter (this clueless writer in particular) who steps into the Scottish capital would easily notice how hyper-reality suffuses that city. Rule No. 1: Leave cold logic at the airport locker in order to plumb the aura that is Edinburgh, a city of sinister castles, quirky architecture, dizzying alleys, succulent sheep-stomach-bag meals, eerie underground vaults, and grown men in skirts. In short, prepare to be puzzled by this beautifully creepy city. Rule No. 2: Never ever take a cab from Edinburgh Airport to the hotel – which I did and it cost me a metaphysical sum of money. I nearly crapped in my pants when I saw the cab meter, and I hadn’t even seen the dreaded ghosts of Burke and Hare.
Just as the stars walked down the red carpet, I got to Ocean Terminal Arena in Leith, Edinburgh to join my colleagues from Britain, Scotland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Portugal, Spanish, France, Russia and the States. I fell into a conversation with Rita from Portugal, Louise from England and Katrina from Germany, as Westlife’s remake of Mandy wafted in the air. I wanted to tell the female journalists how brave of Westlife to sing a ballad reputedly written for a dog (or worse, for another guy), but we ended up talking about the simmering catfight between Christina Aguilera and Kelly Osbourne.
The spat, for me, was one of the highlights of this year’s EMA. It was so rock ‘n’ roll (rock ‘n’ roll with tons of makeup, lots of ass and a mean mouth, to be exact). Kelly was supposed to interview stars as they arrive, but Christina refused to walk the red carpet unless VJ Kelly hauled her butt away. The daughter of the Prince of Darkness retaliated by saying on-air that Aguilera is a "bit of a cow" and her music is "crap." Nangamoy dugo.
But that was not the end of the battle of evil verus evil.
Skits showed clownish Christina hitting Kelly’s picture with a dart. The Empire of tastelessness and cellulite struck back: Osbourne as presenter lamented, "If Christina Aguilera has to resort to throwing darts at my head after everything she’s achieved and everything she’s done, then she’s a really sad, sorry person. And I take it as a complete compliment." She got boos for her bellyaching, though.
Aguilera had the last laugh by retorting, "Honey, if you can dish it out, you’ve got to learn how to take it back." The Dirrty diva won handily that evening, mainly because she practically held the microphone half the night. But I got the feeling Kelly will have her revenge. Hey, her father was in Black Sabbath (with songs like War Pigs and Hand of Doom), for crying out loud.
As the journalists discussed the sluttish skirmish (to believe or not to believe?), elsewhere, along Princes Street (in front of the hotel I was staying in) was the gig called MTV in the Gardens. Here Jane’s Addiction, the Flaming Lips, the Chemical Brothers and the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club performed and reminded everyone what rock ‘n’ roll was really about: heady grooves, compelling lyrics and an insidious backbeat.
Sidelights at the pre-show were legion.
Shirley Manson of Garbage was asked about a duet with the "Anti-Christ" (meaning Marilyn Manson), and she answered, "I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anti-Christ who?" I think that collaboration would do the Manson family proud.
Justin Timberlake was asked if Christina’s Mouseketeer background would help her as EMA host. Justin answered (or at least mouthed words) without actually answering the question, if you get my drift. Like how Filipino public officials answer charges of corruption.
Vinn Diesel, who wore a leather kilt at the EMA, was interviewed, and he was able to worm out a plug of his new movie, which he characterized as The Lord of the Rings in space. Which is what, Star Wars?
Jean Paul Gaultier poked fun at past EMA hosts Wyclef Jean’s and P. Diddy’s attires, and called Combs "Poop Daddy." Afterwards, Gaultier was shown wearing a skimpy zebra underwear while hosting the ’95 EMA in Paris.
The three guys and a girl of Black Eyed Peas talked about Where is the Love? and how a lot of people related to the message. Yes, love has been bandied about ever anon, but where the f*ck is it really?
The Peas was a whiff of sobering air in that otherwise crazy circus of a pre-show. The same can be said about Michael Stipe. But if Stipe is to conscience, Jackass is to everything cock-eyed and revolting. Two dudes from Jackass, Chris Pontius and fat Preston Lacy wrought havoc to the pressroom.
Lacy: (Tumbling down and then rising up to clean his nails) I like Travis.
Pontius: I thought they were sexy.
A female journalist asked Chris about the Jackass spin-off.
Pontius: Come back to me when you’ve put on 200 pounds (smirks). The idea for the new show is for me to die.
Lacy: It’s actually a new nature show. It’s not about Chris’ homosexuality.
Pontius: I’m going face to face with a Great White Shark. And if all goes as planned, I wouldn’t be around to talk about the show (sneers).
Lacy: Hey, the people here are expecting you to do something stupid.
Pontius: Yeah! I didn’t come here to die from syphilis. You want to see my toot-toot?
LACY: Chris, show ‘em your toot-toot!
Cheers and jeers from everyone, as Pontius whips out his toot-toot and twirls it around.
Pontius: I call this "The Helicopter."
So much for the metaphysical shit.
Hey, the EMA is not an event without some truly fabulous performances through the years. The Foo Fighters rocked the house in Barcelona. In Frankfurt, Jimmy Page performed an acoustic version of Led Zep’s Thank You with grunts from Limp Bizkit and Puddle of Mudd. (Unfortunately for genuine music fans; fortunately for rap metal poseurs who used to ledge-dance to the words "Everybody dance now!") Overly dramatic U2 was a smash in Stockholm. Supernatural Mariah Carey broke wineglasses in Dublin and other nearby areas. Madonna milked her moment in Milan. And the Spice Girls maxed out their 15 minutes of fame in Rotterdam.
Edinburgh was not far behind in the performance department. The Black Eyed Peas (with cameo from Justin Timberlake) played exceptionally well. So did the Chemical Brothers, Missy Eliot, Kraftwerk and Dido, among others.
It was only fitting that Michael Stipe introduced the White Stripes. The REM singer said there were cynical ones who think that music is dead, that all that’s left are hollow gestures and blank sentiments. He said he disagrees with them and offered Jack and Meg White as proof. It takes hip to know hip, after all. Afterwards, the garage rock duo began the brooding low-fidelity assault of Seven-Nation Army.
The Presidents of the United States of America had a bassist who played with only two strings; the White Stripes dispensed with the bassist altogether and has managed with two musicians. I think this band (along with The Strokes) did what Nirvana and the Sex Pistols accomplished in their respective eras: save rock ‘n’ roll from the clutches of mediocrity. Thus, it was also fitting that Jack and Meg got the Best Rock trophy from Perry Farrel and Dave Navarro of Jane’s Addiction, which saved rock ‘n’ roll from the clutches of poodle-haired glam metal bands in the forgettable ‘80s.
Rita of Portugal and I went bonkers when Navarro entered the pressroom and we got to talk to the guitarist (the architect of such blistering solos on Three Days, Stop and Summertime Rolls). I asked him what makes Jane’s Addiction relevant after all these years. "Gee, I haven’t thought of that in a long while," Dave said. "We just come together to make great art. That’s it. Relevance, or being relevant, has nothing to do with it."
It was hard to believe that the tattooed and body-pierced guitar hero (who has dabbled with heroin, cross-dressing, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Carmen Electra) could be so articulate, friendly and down-to-earth.
Then came The Darkness, an ironic glam metal band. You could say this group is a cross between Stryper and Spinal Tap. Justin Hawkins and the rest of the guys have the props to bear this out: white Gibson and Firebird guitars, fireworks, bombastic riffs, star jumps, silver jumpsuit, Scorpions/Cheap Trick-like squeals, etc. It was one of the high points of the evening.
The Darkness entered the pressroom and fielded questions. It was like watching This is Spinal Tap. One of the members of The Darkness asked the press, "Why are you guys sitting down and taking notes?" Somebody quietly told him it was a press conference. "A press conference? I thought it was a modesty panel." Laughter. Somebody asked Hawkins where he got his slick suit. He answered, "I will tell you, but I will have to kill you." Laughter again. Bassist Frankie Poullain was asked about his skull belt. He mumbled something indecipherable, then said, "That is all – I have nothing more to say about the matter." The guys were asked which artist would they like to collaborate with. Guitarist Dan Hawkins quipped, "Shirley Bassey, Stephen Hawking and anybody who has an interest in astrology." Laughter part III.
The strangest thing was, the four guys of The Darkness seem to come from different bands because of their irreconcilable getups: one is like the dude from Cheap Trick; one, from The Ramones; one, from Thin Lizzy; and one is Duff McKagan.
Kylie performed Slow, with fluorescent lamps (or were those light sabers?) and dancers resembling the Masculados and Sexbomb. Beyoncé did a diva routine with Sean Paul on Baby Boy. Electronic pioneers Kraftwerk escaped the undertakers of obscurity and performed on television for the first time. Travis in white matching outfits did a song titled Beautiful Occupation with a little help from 125 naked friends. The Black Eyed Peas (which come across as The Fugees featuring Jessica Simpson) performed the group’s breakthrough hit with Justin, who could give Michael Jackson a run for his llama food money. That was entertainment, but the entertaining wasn’t confined to the stage.
Here are some random, amusing quips from the press conference:
• "We never get any sleep," said Wil. I. Am of the Black Eyed Peas when asked about the disadvantages of success.
• "Absolutely no rehearsals with this group," said Fergie of the Black Eyed Peas about the group’s chemistry. On a totally unrelated subject, she said, "It took forever to do my hair."
• "I think of the songs in my head when I write, not about sales," said Dido about the pressures of following up a hit album. The inspiration, she added, came from "crazy imagination."
• "I probably look good in a Darkness outfit," opined Justin Timberlake.
• "It got your attention, didn’t it? This is our message to Blair and Bush," said Fran Healy of Travis about the use of naked people carrying anti-war placards. "Naked protest rocks!"
• "The White Stripes just killed," said Tom Rowlands about his favorite performance at the EMA.
Chemical Brother Ed Simons was not as magnanimous. On being reminded that they lost Best Dance award to Punjabi MC, Simons said, "I feel fu*kin’ pissed off." Rowlands tried to diffuse his partner’s anger, "It’s a good song, though." Simons blurted out, "One good song doesn’t make a songer."
Michael Stipe acted the role of artist with a conscience, and talked about the plight of MTV Free Your Mind award recipient Aung San Suu Kyi (Burma’s democratically elected leader and Nobel Peace laureate placed in detention by an oppressive military regime for the past 15 years). He even admonished the journalists at the EMA: "You must play the role of watchdog, since there are many things we don’t see in 24-hour US news channels."
About today’s music, Stipe shared, "Musicians are divided into two worlds. There are those who make music that plays in the background – in restaurants and clubs. And there are those who make fresh, new and exciting music, just like the White Stripes and the Neptunes."
Stipe’s right. Rock’s not dead. Yet.
Shantih… shantih… shantih…
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