Paying Lip Service to Abuse

The other night, I watched the Grammy Awards with my teenage daughter. Well, to be more specific, I watched the first two hours or so (or less, most likely) with her, then excused myself and went to bed while she finished the show without her lovin' mama.

I don't know about y'all, but I just can't stay up that late these days.

Anyway, the presentation was fairly fast-paced, moving quickly from aging metal stars (AC/DC) to pop princesses (Taylor Swift) to significant artistes (Madonna and her bevy of bulls — btw, were those things creepy or what? Almost as creepy as the Material Girl's shiny (dare we say "plastic?") cheekbones.)

There were some inevitable political statements: both Pharrell and Beyonce had backup dancers strike the now infamous and unutterably sad "don't shoot" pose. Prince, channeling his inner Hindu in orange silk pajamas, explained that "Like books and black lives, albums still matter." But, the biggest, most coordinated statement was around the issue of domestic violence.

President Obama, in a prerecorded video, stated that "It’s not okay and it has to stop ... it’s on us, all of us, to create a culture where violence isn’t tolerated, where survivors are supported and where all our young people, men and women, can go as far as their talents and their dreams will take them."

Domestic abuse survivor, activist and poet Brooke Axtell performed a powerful autobiographical written-word piece. And Katy Perry (backed, it seemed by the ghost of Martha Graham), shed her violet hair and dancing sharks for a very serious rendition of "By the Grace of God," a very serious song about a very serious topic.

The whole thing would have been very serious.

If it didn't seem so hypocritical.

Sitting in the audience (and nominated for awards that evening) was Chris Brown, along with his ex-girlfriend (and alleged victim) Rihanna. You may remember that both musicians missed the Grammy Awards back in 2012: Brown, because he was being detained; Rihanna, because her face was smashed in.

And while they may currently be the most popular poster children for domestic violence, their abusive relationship (should I denature it by saying "domestic incident?") is by no means unique or new. The music industry has a long history of physical and sexual abuse. And some of the accused — in many cases, universally acknowledged — perps are among our most beloved idols: Paul McCartney, James Brown, Ike Turner, Tommy Lee, Ozzy Osbourne, Michael Jackson, Cee Lo Green, Slash, Vanilla Ice, Axl Rose, Vince Neil, Lou Rawls, Scott Weiland, even Yanni. 

Apparently, the issue crosses boundaries of age, race and musical genre.

I'm not complaining about the domestic violence PSA inserted into the Grammy Awards. The President's message was important, Axtell's poem was moving and even Perry's kind of dull performance was well-intentioned. But, I would encourage the music industry to take a closer, harder look at itself. Standing up against domestic violence in an awards broadcast is all well and good, but more substantive change needs to take place. Songs and performances that objectify women's bodies, that undermine women's roles as equals, that, in some cases, celebrate rape and violence. These need to be stopped. 

The trouble is, all of the above make money.

So until the recording industry is willing to forego its ill-gotten gains, it all seems like lip service to me.

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WWDD (What Would Downton Do?)

Madonna said it in 1984. "We are living in a material world." That's all well and good, but Midge forgot to mention that we are also living in a rushed, rude and often ugly one. I'm not talking about the big problems. I'm talking about the genteel touches — or really, the lack thereof. To quote another famous M (one Ms. Stewart) "Manners matter." If Martha didn't actually say it, she's certainly thought about it. A lot.

Where are all the day-to-day niceties we left behind? I, for one, do my best to maintain them.

For example, this week I have reinstated the formal breakfast tray. Our family doesn't eat breakfast together unless we're on vacation. (Wouldn't that be nice? The eating breakfast together part, not the vacation part. Oh all right, the vacation part too.) My teenage daughter is the first to leave in the morning, while I eat after my walk. I'm not sure when my husband eats. At any rate, while she's putting the finishing touches on her ensemble upstairs, I typically cut her some fruit and prepare some starchy thing (with chocolate in it more often than not: croissant, muffin, waffles, you get the picture). A hot pink "Teen Advantage Vitamin" and a glass of water and ... voila! ... zee breakfast, shee ees served.

This week, I took a moment and went out to our little garden. I snipped some begonias, popped them in a crystal bud vase (wedding present), pulled out a tray, arranged the aforementioned gourmet repast and ... volia! ... breakfast was served with ever so much more class.

My daughter eyed me with a mixture of puzzlement and suspicion.

"It's nice," I told her. "It's like Downton Abbey."

Her expression remained the same but she cocked her head a bit which added to the effect.

"You know," I continued. "Like that time when Lady Mary was getting ready for school and Carson brought her a tray with a chocolate chip cookie dough Pop Tart and some fresh flowers, so she wouldn't have to get off her iPhone and go to the table?"

I was once again reminded that my daughter does not appreciate my considerable wit. Nevertheless, she has had flowers with her breakfast every day since.

This longing for a more refined life is also the reason I insist on beds that are made. This infuriates my daughter to no end. She finds it illogical, as well as "so-o-o annoying!" To me, it's a civilized ritual that marks an evening over, a new day begun. It instills the room with a sense of order and serenity. It has nothing whatsoever to do with my compulsive neatness.

Okay, so it does. Sue me.

"You can do whatever you want when you live on your own," I recite like a broken cliché machine, "In this house, we make the beds." 

I did give her a pass for most of the summer. But, back to school means back to bed-making. This, despite having learned from our schooner captain that making a still-warm bed is like sending a backstage all-access pass, V.I.P. open house invitation to dust mites. Eeeeeeew. 

I know I can't really roll back the calendar to a more elegant age. And I do live in the present as evidenced by my posts about Miley Cyrus and twerking (which achieved the highest hit rates I've ever had — how sad is that?). But, whether it's flowers on the breakfast tray or smooth sheets and throw pillows, I believe we can make an effort.

What else are we to do in today's graceless world?

Keep calm and ring Carson for tea.

M & M

I'm from New York but I live in New England. This meant that yesterday's Super Bowl was a win-win for me. Whichever team took the championship, half of the people I love would be happy.

As for me, I'm in it for two things: the ads and the half-time show. Especially this year.

Madonna!

You may love her, you may hate her. But, you have to admit she's still got it. As my brother posted midway through her set, "53 is the new 23." (I kind of wish she hadn't injected whatever she injected into her face; those shiny cheekbones make her look like a burn victim. But, otherwise, she is one fine figure of a fifty-something.)

Madge and I go way back. I bought her first album during my senior year at college. I danced to "Like a Virgin" at Limelight in a short skirt, ankle socks and high heels. (Really.) I was pleasantly surprised by her performance in Evita. I read my daughter The English Roses. And, I still have a stack of black rubber bracelets. (Really really.)

I wonder what my tween daughter thinks when she sees and hears her. Do the songs sound old-fashioned and out-of-date? Does she think of it as my generation's music rather than hers? My parents listened to opera and Broadway musicals when I was growing up, so I don't really have a reference. I wonder what it was like for the children of Elvis Presley or Beatles fans.

Just in case, Madonna (or the NFL or NBC or some combination thereof) was smart to include a handful of contemporary stars in her extravaganza: M.I.A. and Nicki Minaj and Cee Lo Green and LMFAO. That last one, for the record, was unknown to me or my husband but our daughter was thrilled. (LMFAO is billed as an electro-rap duo and their first hit was "I'm in Miami B*tch." Now you know. Oh, and the asterisk is mine.)

Well, no matter how big any of these stars are (in Florida or elsewhere), they were onstage at the Super Bowl for just one reason. To make the material girl look good. She came in as Cleopatra and she certainly proved that she is the queen. I'd try and be cute here and say she's "the queen of the vinyl" (get it?) but Madonna has transitioned without missing a beat from LPs to CDs to iTunes. In 2011, her Celebration was the second top selling album after Adele's 21. Not too shabby thirty years later (and thirty years older).

If you had to name the most iconic superstars of the 80s and 90s, Madonna would be right up at the head of your list. Of course, the other artist that would be vying for the top spot is the late great Michael Jackson.

Whether or not my daughter thinks of M & M as has-been mom-music, she and her friends are very familiar with at least some of their songs. And, it's not because of the Super Bowl. Or my old lady radio station. Or even commercials that spend gazillions of dollars to use "Ray of Light" to sell Microsoft or "Billie Jean" to sell Pepsi.

My daughter knows the songs of Madonna and Michael Jackson because of Glee. And, she's not the only one apparently. When Glee pre-released its The Power of Madonna album last season, it was number one on the Billboard charts with 98,000 sales in its first week. More recently, the ten songs from the show's tribute to the gloved one were all within the top thirty iTunes downloads.

So, we have something to listen to together. "Like a Prayer" and "Like a Virgin" take me back in time. "Thriller" is still thrilling; "Vogue" is still in vogue. And "Ben" is (and was) a beautiful song — even if it's about a rat. In fact, my daughter claims that the new recordings by talented Glee kids Leah Michele, Darren Criss, Naya Rivera, Chris Colfer, Amber Riley and the rest are better than the golden oldies.

Well, on that note, we'll have to agree to disagree.