I'm not sure if Pharrell's Girl will be the exception this year. I keep thinking back to Babyface releasing a full album after his hit from the Phenomenon soundtrack in the 90's. An aging, superstar producer with a commercial hit trying to capitalize. Babyface has a voice, but he was never a star. It was a bit of a disappointment (and that's being more than generous). Girl starts off with, "Marilyn Monroe," a track with a predictably great beat, but the lyrics are sadly shallow and Pharrell's voice doesn't pop at all.
I wonder if Pharrell gets this nomination because the voters don't want to alienate a guy who they hope to work with, a guy who can make them a star. For someone who makes his living adding real value to artists' work, the production value is incredibly underwhelming. Everyone loves Pharrell, he's always so positive and encouraging, it's no wonder he can bring in artists like Justin Timberlake, Alicia Keys, Miley Cyrus, and Daft Punk, at the same time there's a real feel that no one wants to hurt his feelings by criticizing the album. I couldn't find a single review that didn't essentially say, "We respect Pharrell, but this album might not be for everyone." Lot's of head-scratching here.
On "Brand New" the lyrics once again fall flat and Timberlake's vocals diminish what Pharrell does. I wonder if he'd have been better off just putting the thing together and getting other people to sing on each track like Avicii or some other producer/artist does. The overwhelming impression I get from the album is that it was put together quickly and with just enough care to get released, but it scream "money grab."
The Miley Cyrus track, "Come Get It Bae" is much the same way. It's a decent track, but it would be noticeably better with someone else singing. Miley does well, since she's, you know, an actual recording artist. Maybe Pharrell just came up with one or two singles and filled out the album with stuff he had laying around? I'm just having a hard time processing how anyone ever thought releasing this album was the right thing to do.
"Gust of Wind" feature Daft Punk and its only drawback is that Pharrell appears on it. The robots probably did as much as they could with what Pharrell presented them, but these lyrics are also barely salvageable. I get it. I write, but often I feel I'm much better making other people's stuff better than writing my own. There's no shame in being a collaborator. I guess Pharrell had to figure that out like anyone else.
Alicia Keys does some great work on "Know Who You Are," but again, there's not enough of her and too much Pharrell. It's also entirely too short and ends abruptly. "It Girl," the album's final track is good. Released on its own, it could be a solid single. The lyrics are well written, even if they're a bit vapid. The production is great. Pharrell's beat, as always, is solid. It fits his voice well. Still, there's clearly not enough here to make up for the rest of the album.
Some of the tracks are just bad. "Hunter" is completely unlistenable. Painful. If you played it for me and told me some guy wrote and recorded this in his living room, I would totally believe you. "Gush" is about exactly the worst possible thing you could imagine it's about from the title. Tasteless. Listening to this track makes me wonder if he intentionally made the worst possible album just to see how many people he could convince to buy it. I mean, there's a good chance he doesn't even show up to the Grammys since no one got his joke.
The very fact "Happy" is included on this album makes the hit single less valuable simply by association. Then you remember it was written for Cee-Lo and you realize he probably should have been allowed to sing it. It clearly would have been better.
For all that, I thought "Lost Queen" had endearing lyrics, decently written. Sparse production and finally a chance to show off the nuances of Pharrell's voice. I still think it would be better if he gave it to someone else to sing it, but Pharrell does do it justice, especially compared to the rest of Girl. The second half of the eight minutes is supposedly a second song ("Freq") on the same theme. It features uncredited vocals from Jojo (great!) and an interesting vibe. Remember, "Lost Queen" is easily the best thing on the record, and it would likely be a throw-away bonus track on most decent albums, so take it for what it is. It also seems to be about loving an alien or some admission that Pharrell is, in fact, an alien himself - which would make a ton of sense, actually.
In the end, in Girl, I'm sure Pharrell made the album he wanted to make. I guess his taste in music is just completely different than everyone else. He clearly knows what people like, his work proves that, maybe this is just for him.
Daft Punk stole the show, by the way. They won almost every relevant category - and rightly so. If you're unaware, Daft Punk is a French electronica duo who, in those rare instances they appear or perform in public, wear elaborate robot masks that make them look like a Storm Trooper's cool older brother.
Since they're essentially producers, most of their album was collaboration with other artists. They didn't win any award just the two of them. As I was suffering through a second acceptance speech made impromptu on their behalf by the colossally awkward Pharrell, I began to wonder why they remained so silent.
It's not as though their faces are a mystery. They give interviews. They even did a photo spread for GQ, partly without the masks. They're not mystery men. It's a public image thing. While I wouldn't have expected them to perform without the helmets, I was surprised to see them wearing them the rest of the show (maybe it's just easier to recognize them that way?).
When they won Best Album, the Grammys' biggest award, Paul Williams took to the mic. Paul Williams has an interesting back story. He's no stranger to the Grammy stage, winning numerous times in the 1970's. He wrote Rainbow Connection. He was on Johnny Carson. He was a big deal. Then he disappeared until a year or two ago when a filmmaker did a documentary about just where he went. It's a story of addiction, loss, devastation, and redemption. If he'd only known, the film might have ended Sunday night.
It was touching that Williams got to speak on the Grammy stage one more time. That moment alone was worth the atrocious production they put together and I (willingly, I guess) sat through for four hours. It was a profoundly beautiful moment.
It wouldn't have been possible if Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter hadn't decided to remain silent.
In a way it is the ultimate artistic expression. When people make public art, it ceases to belong entirely to the artist. People begin to interpret and take some measure of ownership. When you enter a partnership, if it is a true partnership, you give up your rights to power and control - some part of your life is now no longer entirely within your grasp.
Daft Punk had to stand there while Pharrell riffed and stumbled over two odd acceptance speeches. They seemed to do so happily, I suspect, because they were grateful for his collaboration. His part in the music made possible something they could not have done on their own.
Their silence also led to profound beauty.
I thought a little about God and creation. I am coming more and more to believe God created this world in partnership with creation. Not that God had to do things this way, but the overflow of God's love allowed us - and allows us - to participate in our ongoing creation.
For good or for ill.
There may be times of embarrassment or awkward moments, times when that decision for partnership looks like a poor one. There are also moments of pure beauty. In the end, though, neither moment is a bad moment. Neither moment is a mistake. Both are indicative of true creative partnership. They are the embodiment of public art.
What is the world other than a work of art? What are our lives other than a public statement of some core belief resonating out from inside us?
I need this lesson, perhaps more than most. I hate to give up control of anything. I'm that guy who always has to correct some factual error in an otherwise unrelated story. I pass it off sometimes as a mild neurodevelopmental disorder, and I'm only half kidding (I certainly have lots of Asperger symptoms). I have this ingrained compulsion to "make things right," a difficulty discerning the difference between fact and opinion.
It gets me into trouble.
So I am glad for these moments. These expressions of silence that allow for collaboration. So many artists and musicians hold tightly to their work and struggle for it to be seen the ways in which they intended. Daft Punk made their art and released it to the wild.
Perhaps creative partnership is the key. Perhaps becoming accustomed to outside influence births the capacity for letting go. Or perhaps they're just super-evolved, futuristic, French robots who have a lot of complex things figured out.
Either way, there's something to be said about the openness in which we live life and the ways we allow the genuine contributions of others to impact who we are.
