Drake
Radio City Music Hall
Wednesday, September 29

Better Than: Pitbull. (And Curren$y!)

Drake isn't the best at arena-swallowing mega-hop, as evidenced by a guest appearance from Jay-Z, who casually uncorked Radio City with his verses from advice rap touchstone "Light Up" and "On to the Next One." He's not the best at leather-jacketed r&b either, as evidenced by a guest appearance from Trey Songz, who casually melted Radio City with "Can't Be Friends." He's not quite a champ at word-scrambles--see special guest Fabolous. And the star attraction didn't even incite the night's best rap-along; that distinction goes to an in absentia Lil Wayne and his "I'm Goin' In" verse. Plus, Drake's "Money to Blow" co-star Birdman took top honors when it came to cornea-smashing jewelry and head-covering star tattoos. Drake isn't the best at anything, really. But he is very good at pretty much everything.

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Just how awkward will the awkwardly staged moment between Kanye West and Taylor Swift be? Will Eminem deign to smile? Which uncomfortable pop star will B.o.B choose to bring up on stage with him? And how will your hosts, Pitchfork's Ryan Dombal and eMusic's Sean Fennessey, make it to midnight without passing out? The answers to these questions and more, below, on our official SOTC 2010 MTV VMA Live Blog, commencing shortly. (Amuse yourself in the meantime with last year's edition.)

​Nicki Minaj Performs "Check It Out" With Will.i.am on the Pre-Show [8:35 p.m.]

SF: Tim Kash informs us that Nicki Minaj has a "great behind." And here she is. Will.i.am emerges dressed like the black Max Headroom.
RD: Will.i.am has too much time on his hands. Also, a live-action Jetsons movie just got greenlit. I want to Jazzercise right now.
SF: Nicki, fearlessly weird, and sort of disturbing!
RD: She just did the "Come to Daddy" scream to a dude in all white who's doing the robot -- I think I recognize that guy from Nicki's Ustreams! I have too much time on my hands.
SF: That man is wearing a "Pink Friday 11.23.10" T-shirt. RIP Macy Gray.

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Rihanna
Madison Square Garden
Thursday, August 12

During her lone moment of banter last night, Rihanna took a deep breath, sat down on the edge of the stage and said, "Thank you for making my dream come true." Which sounds kind of boilerplate. It is. But she wasn't just referring to selling out Madison Square Garden. Turns out Rihanna's dream is a little more complicated. And scary. And odd. A dude dressed up like a crash test dummy who pops and locks is involved.

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The Bamboozle
Meadowlands Parking Lot
Saturday, May 1

The Bamboozle is the circus-themed mainstream punk/pop/whatever blowout where the line for Mrs. Field's ice cream and cookies dwarfs the one for $10 Miller Lites. It's the sunburn factory with a kid sporting an irony-free Snapple tattoo. A morning zoo reject in a clown mask hurls homophobic, racist and/or nonsensical barbs at teens trying to drop him into the dunk tank. (Personal favorite: "If I had a head like yours, I'd get it circumcised.") Bamboozle is where you want to tell the high schooler who offers you drugs--"You want weed? I got that chronic!"--to put the shit away before he gets caught, dammit, and t-shirt wearing is an Olympic sport: "Gaga Has a Weiner," "I Don't Need to Pump My Fist to Look Sweet," "First Pumping Like a Champ," "Snookie Is My Homegirl," "Girls Don't Poop" (short shorts), "Blunts?" (written on bare stomach w/ Sharpie), "I Used to Be in Taking Back Sunday."

I guess there was music.

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As we tend to do for various events crucial to the pop diaspora, we've asked expert critics Sean Fennessey and Ryan Dombal to sit in at SOTC for the evening and live blog the 52nd Annual Grammy Awards. Perhaps you remember their 2009 MTV VMA work? They really do this. Gentlemen?

Pop music, in one single photo.

​8:00pm
Ryan: First thing: #teamkanye
Sean: Obvs.
Ryan: I wonder if they'd be better off just airing Gaga's Radio City show a week and a half later.
Sean: I'm excited about her decision to not wear leggings. We are nearer to thine crotch.
Ryan: They said it couldn't be done.
Sean: Elton John, donning bejeweled glasses to match Gaga.
Ryan: This set looks like that board game Mouse Trap.
Sean: "Speechless" is the best song she's ever written. There I said it.

8:05pm
Sean: "How wonderful that felt with Gaga in the world."
Sean: Ace, Elton.
Sean: By the way, if there's a lull, not to worry, Ryan's just eating a sandwich DURING THE OPENING SET.
Ryan: Priorities.

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Florence and the Machine
Bowery Ballroom
Tuesday, October 27

Toward the end of her first official New York City show, London's Florence Welch worked a little bit of Fever Ray's "If I Had a Heart" into the beginning of her tune "Blinding". While I have no doubt Welch's love of the enigmatic Swede Karin Dreijer Andersson is pure and true, the two singers approach spectacle from opposite angles. Andersson cloaks herself in effects and big cloaks; Welch needs to be seen and heard as clearly as possible at all times. Last night she wore what could pass for a tony ghost costume-- all waves of flowing white-- while her band were backgrounded in nothing but black. Her voice, as bellowing and soul-filled and elastic as it may be, was sometimes uncomfortably high in the mix. Welch feeds on the spotlight without apology, and this old-school approach is working for her thus far--her debut album Lungs, released in the UK last July, would have hit number one on the British charts if it weren't for sudden interest in another center-of-attention-type, Michael Jackson. And now, like any loyal subject with a speck of ambition, she's setting her gaze on America.

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Who but Ryan Dombal?

​Fever Ray
Webster Hall
Monday, September 28

After last Tuesday's Sunn O))) drone-a-thon, this was my second show in less than a week at which the smoke machines got rousing applause. Which got me thinking: Smoke gives good mood, sure. But it also makes documentation nearly impossible. As Scott Indrisek wrote in this week's Voice, "Scouring YouTube for evidence of what Fever Ray's show will look like is largely a confusing exercise." So when we clap at the hissing murk, we're clapping at confusion and the still-hanging-on here-ness of live concert going--i.e., if the sold out Webster crowd could barely make out Karin Dreijer Andersson and her four-person (thing?) band of inuit folk freaks in person, good luck streaming it via dumbed-down compression. Then again, with an outdoor smoking ban looming, maybe we're just clapping at the 2009 rebellion of simply seeing smoke in abundance anywhere. I dunno, I don't smoke.

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In honor of the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, we've invited SOTC buddies and pop savants Sean Fennessey and Ryan Dombal to lend a certain wisdom and perspective to these sure-to-be completely dignified proceedings. Gentleman?

John Shearer

​

9:00pm
Sean: We're coming to you live from one or two or seven places. Ryan, how do you feel?
Ryan: It's kinda hot in here.
9:01pm
Sean: Always, always about Madge. Even if it isn't.
Ryan: I guess Madonna is going to die now.
Sean: Pete Wentz is moved, though, so you know, good.
Ryan: He's Twittering.
Ryan: Holler at Brooke Shields.
Sean: "The roar of the lynch mob is so loud you're convinced your voice can never be heard."
Sean: Madonna is a werewolf.
Ryan: Cue Sharpton.
Sean: Taylor Lautner, let's get it.

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Katy Perry
Hammerstein Ballroom
Tuesday, July 28

Packs of club-ready teenage girls shriek and and point and flash toward the balcony. Efron? Pattison? Um, Perez? Not quite. It's Donald Trump, who graces the Apprentice-weaned youths with a delightfully despicable bent-knee wave. Sort of shocking to think about: Katy Perry played the Mercury Lounge in April of last year. Even then--without the inflatable strawberries, army of stylists, infinite supply of Wonder Woman get-ups, and 30-foot-tall glowing-heart backdrop--the maximum-L.A. singer-songwriter acted like an inevitability. At Hammerstein, it was easy to recognize some hair-tossing, finger-pointing rawk moves from way back when. But while her ascent may not be a tremendous shock, her strategic maneuvering around insta-fame's pitfalls is surprising.

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Photos also by Ryan Dombal

Fall Out Boy
Nokia Theater
Tuesday, December 16

"You motherfuckers don't know what Twilight is?!" That's Pete Wentz joshing with the audience after his reference to the famed "vampire romance novel" was met with shrugs. He sounded surprised. Maybe he shouldn't be. "Sugar, We're Going Down" broke three years ago, and there's a big gap between freshmen and juniors--between Twilight and Anything But Twilight. Right now, Fall Out Boy are trying to bridge that gap: the same one that swallowed Blink-182, and twisted Green Day into Hall of Fame devotees. They just might pull it off.

The four friends from Chicago's upper crust were celebrating their new LP, Folie à Deux, which is about as self-consciously absurd as its title. It features a string interlude, Elvis Costello, and an immense power ballad with its own career-spanning reprise (all mercifully absent from the gig, btw). But Folie à Deux doesn't court Grammys as much as it fucks with convention to suit its own snottiness. Wentz is a dad now, but he'll still make a Bush/ShoeGate parody and post it on his blog.

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