The wonder of a
performance
such as the one given by Sam Smith and Kim Petras during the 65th annual
Grammy Awards
this week is that the public isn’t bored to tears by this kind of thing yet. The modern appetite for drab shock art is seemingly insatiable.
To be sure, the performance was fantastically dull. While billed as groundbreaking, it was the least innovative, least challenging, and least subversive display conceivable in contemporary America. Indeed, it’s impossible to imagine anything more mainstream and less edgy than Sam Smith strutting around in a red dress and a dog collar while performing a satanic ritual on live TV. It was tailor-made for our era. And it was the perfect fodder for morons without imagination,
education
, or standards.
I suppose Smith deserves credit for reading the room.
SAM SMITH ISN’T SATANIC. HE’S JUST A BORING ATTENTION-SEEKER
The song itself, titled “Unholy,” won the Grammy for best pop duo/collaboration. It is generic in every sense of the term. Its beat and instrumentation are indistinguishable from every pop hit of the last 20 years. The sonics are meant to evoke a vague sense of “naughtiness” along with the anticipation of a great carnal payoff. The lyrics are even duller. The performance would have been better if Smith had just stood there and pouted for the camera like Zoolander in extra-thick eyeliner. For anyone unafraid of becoming dumber, here’s the first verse:
“Mummy don’t know daddy’s getting hot
At the body shop, doing something unholy
He lucky, lucky, yeah (ooh)
He lucky, lucky, yeah (ye-yeah)
He lucky, lucky, yeah
He lucky, lucky, yeah.”
I’ll be honest: I hadn’t heard the song until Monday. I was also blissfully unaware of Smith’s narcissistic obsession with
sexual identity
over recent years. But Smith’s pre-show warning about the content of the performance lured me in. I’ll admit to having fallen prey to this clever bit of marketing. In the end, however, I’m glad I witnessed the joyless and tedious spectacle. It offered precious hope that our culture would overcome the onslaught of depravity from our vacuous celebrity class. Nothing this dimwitted could ever pose a true threat to civilization.
The performance itself was as unimpressive as the artist. One could imagine the devil himself being none-too-pleased that his big moment was sabotaged by the mediocrity of his messengers. The spectacle won no converts. It was neither seductive nor mysterious. Rather, it was dreary and sad. Even through the screen, the performance smelled bad. The entertainment industry has lost all sight of how it is perceived by normal people.
But that’s what makes Smith and Petras’s “tune” interesting: Much like the larger “woke” project (for lack of a better term), “Unholy” has risen to prominence despite lacking entirely in excellence and ingenuity. Far from being the harbinger of a new, bright mode of being and seeing, the song is made of the same dull schlock that’s been rehashed for centuries by dull normies whose capacity for artistic expression equals that of a toddler waving around his ding-dong.
Unfortunately, too many conservatives took the bait by decrying the satanic element of the show. This was exactly what Smith wanted: the attention, to be sure, but also the opportunity to be branded a rebel and
Christianity
as the establishment. Smith wanted to be seen as courageously defying the established order.
But this dynamic hasn’t defined reality in America for many decades. The opposite is now true. The mainstream is now typified by Smith and Co. The counterculture has gone hopelessly mainstream. There’s no one left to shock, no taboo left to break.
Conservatives would be better off critiquing this sorry excuse for “art” on its merits than wringing hands over its depraved nature. It isn’t interesting enough to be offensive. America deserves a better class of rebels.
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Peter Laffin is a writer in New England. Follow him on Twitter at @
petermlaffin
.
