Grammy, Grammy, bo-bammy
Banana-fana, fo-fammy
Fee-fi-mo-mammy
Grammy!

Kanye, Kanye, bo-banye
Banana-fana fo-fanye
Fee-fi-mo-manye
Kanye!

Amy, Amy, bo-bamy
Banana-fana fo-famy
Fee-fi-mo-mamy
Amy!

I don't mean to mock the 50th Grammy Awards (well, of course, I do), but it's more a case of desperation: let's have a little fun with the preposterous shitshow, already! As the phrase "four-time Grammy winner Fergie" proves, the annual presentations by the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences have very little to do with seriously assessing or acknowledging artistic ability or quality. Yet the general tone surrounding the event is either solemn self-regard from those running it, chucklehead self-congratulation from the musicians fiending for validation, or half-assed carping from critics who should know better than to bother. So since six-time nominee Amy Winehouse and enabler/producer Mark Ronson bit '60s soul belter Shirley Ellis so hard this year (both musically and visually), it made sense to give playful props to Ellis' immortal "The Name Game" (a.k.a., "The Banana Song"). By the way, check out her other classics -- "The Clapping Song (Clap Pat Clap Slap)," "The Nitty Gritty," and "Soul Time" -- and get a fresh perspective on Winehouse's Back in Black (nominated for Album of the Year and Best Pop Vocal Album).

Joining Winehouse as this year's most-anointed was Kanye West, who received eight nominations, and since he's grieving the tragic loss of his mother and seemingly needs the sketchy imprimatur that the awards bestow more than ANY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH, God bless the Academy for giving Graduation props. It's a thoroughly enjoyable record, on a variety of levels -- and as a side note, how cool is it that the heavenly sample used on "I Wonder" ("And I wonder if you know what it means?" goes the lyric) comes from "My Song" by Labi Siffre, an openly gay British singer/songwriter, considering the endless homophobic bullshit that West's so-called peers shot his way this year? Hey, Dwight Grant, Curtis Jackson, and all you anonymous blog creeps who tossed around those gaybaiting slurs so delightedly, why don't you shut the fuck up, spend a couple of minutes listening to Siffre's music, and expand your emotional development past the level of a two-year-old mouthing dirty words he overheard from a drunk uncle.

Perhaps what's most notable about the honoring of West and Winehouse is that both their albums are quintessential examples of the major-label, music-industry system pumping money and resources at full bore into a talented artist's career and successfully pushing a ton of product (maybe not multi-multi-millions, as in years past, but still). Both Graduation and Back in Black involved an army of songwriters, studio musicians, producers, engineers, sample clearance lawyers, stylists, video directors, plus a full-scale marketing and publicity assault, not to mention a steady stream of tabloid antics. In other words, the artistic-side ends supposedly justifies the business-side means -- if you buy into the Grammy version of reality.

Of course, Graduation is also the most shallow of West's three albums, which one can't help but attribute to his lavish, pop-tart lifestyle and materialistic priorities catching up to him (and causing his head to expand at a rate faster than Barry Bonds' during the fence-busting party days of HGH and roses). Then there's the sad spectacle of Winehouse, who was driven to maintain an intense promotional and touring schedule, and was ultimately reduced to a substance-abused Last Exit to Brooklyn basketcase who can barely function.

Take a bow, music industry!

On a lighter note:

Congrats' to two-time Grammy winner Bill Clinton on his third nomination (in the Best Spoken Word category) for Giving: How Each of Us Can Change the World. It's good to see the ex-president back on his game, after the crabby, self-indulgent snoozefest My Life (which inexplicably won in 2005). Still, it must be said that Giving is no Peter and the Wolf, the Grammy-winning Russian folk-tale audio book that Clinton contributed to in 2004. But the sentimental favorite in the category is Barack Obama, whose smooth, soulful inflections on The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream are sure to send voters swooning. Conversely, Jimmy Carter's ponderous rehash of '70s tropes on Sunday Mornings in Plains: Bringing Peace to a Changing World will probably offer little challenge. The less said about Maya Angelou's cheesily produced Celebrations the better.

Nuff respect to three-time Grammy winner Brian Setzer, whose orchestra (catch their holiday show at a casino near you!) was nominated for the lively, irrepressible Wolfgang's Night Out in the Best Classical Crossover Album category. Highlights include Setzer's rockabilly riff on Rimsky-Korsakov's "Flight of the Bumblebee" titled "Honey Man"; his bouncy surf version of Khachaturian's "Sabre Dance"; and his gypsy swing take on Beethoven's "Für Elise." Those powdered wigs on the album cover were a welcome playful poke at the canon, as well!

And a for-real big up to sleight-of-hand maestro and David Mamet stalwart Ricky Jay, who was nominated in the Best Album Notes category for his work on Ricky Jay Plays Poker, which was released by Maroon 5's label Octone. Self-described as a "remarkable CD/DVD deluxe set that celebrates the history, the language and literature, the art and the music of poker," it features "21 songs of hustlers, reprobates, blacklegs, scallywags and the passions and pleasures of the game." Honestly, this record is so much cooler than 95 percent of the rest of the nominees that you owe it to yourself to at least download a few of the tracks: Both Phil Harris and Bert Williams' versions of "Darktown Poker Club," O.V. Wright's "Ace of Spades," and Townes Van Zandt's "Mr. Mudd and Mr. Gold" are personal faves.

And on a nostalgic note, it struck me that the year I officially stopped giving any credence to the Grammy charade was 1977, when, even as a child, I knew a cruel lesson was being taught with the choice of the godforsaken Starland Vocal Band as Best New Artist. Their hit, "Afternoon Delight," was an inescapable, ooh-aren't-we-naughty? soft-rock gross-out about an interlude in the nude which featured such lyrical gems as: "Rubbin' sticks and stones together makes the sparks ingite
/ And the thought of rubbin' you is getting so exciting"; and "Started out this morning feeling so polite / I always thought a fish could not be caught who wouldn't bite / But you've got some bait a-waitin' / And I think I might try nibbling
a little afternoon delight." And if that wasn't enough, CBS then gave them a summer variety show, which actually employed a paycheck-desperate David Letterman (and you wonder where his self-loathing comes from).

Thankfully, future generations will experience their own revelations, staring agape as some moronic selection forever calls into question the entire existence of this chart-driven fiasco. Perhaps, it'll happen this year. There's a good chance it will. I'll be DVR'ing, just in case. R.I.P. ODB, Soy Bomb, and Milli Vanilli.

Now Watch This:
Spin's Peter Gaston Chats Grammys with the Fox Business Network