Excerpts from This Morning's Alphabits: Award Tour

I hate music award shows—ALL OF THEM. Performances usually consist of people who get ridiculous amounts of undeserved airplay already, not to mention the fact that there is an award show every two months for one reason or another. Even so, it’s always the same people performing. How many times have you heard Justin Timberlake’s name on the bill for a show performance? Exactly.

Last night was the BET Hip Hop Awards, and I watched approximately 12 minutes of the show. I saw Nelly’s performance and some of Lil’ Wayne’s. Thankfully, I missed the performance that the BET Web site crowns as the best in its overall summary of the show—Soulja Boy. Despite the fact the writer of the article managed to spell Soulja “Soujla” (maybe a sly way of commenting on Soujla’s severe lack of talent… yep, that one was intentional), she goes on to say that it was the song and dance in hip-hop that everyone can agree on (paraphrasing). Wow… if that’s true, that sucks. There must be something to it, though. Common received his first award on television at last night’s show. That’s sad. After over a decade of work, he just now gets an award on TV? AND he was a co-winner. AND it was for CD of the year… not album of the year. And what the hell is with those sorry award titles… Hustler of the Year? Ring Tone of the Year? Are you kidding me?

However, a friend of mine made me realize something a while back when it came to the direction of music. He told me that the Lil’ Jons of the world don’t have to be talented or have social responsibility. They market themselves as entertainers. That’s it. Not lyricists. Their job is to simply get people off the wall and out of their seats at a club to dance and possibly have premarital sex. No matter how terribly written and socially insignificant the song content is or how minimalist the two-note Casio keyboard beat is, they are doing their job and doing it well. These songs wouldn’t get the airplay they do if these people weren’t experts of their crafts. Not to say that I ever want to hear a song solely dedicated to an article of clothing (say, a white T) or a piece of jewelry (say, a platinum chain), but these “artists”, God bless ’em, they serve their purpose… to piss me off and annoy me beyond belief.

Superman that hoe. Do it.

Be good.