I was going to bitch and moan about Pitchforkmedia's Top Albums of the 1990's Redux (specifically, about the switching of MBV and Radiohead at the top of the list) but then I mellowed out and decided to say something nice instead.

Both albums are worthy of their positions because no other band has even remotely duplicated them. Each band's previous work has been aped to no end, but once these two records came out, it was game over for their competition and the competition knew it. "Isn't Anything" has been xeroxed countless times, from Sianspheric's "There's Always Someplace You'd Rather Be" to Ash and BMRC's buzzsaw guitars and the increased density of most rock albums from grunge onwards. "The Bends has also been ripped off by scores of bands, most by notably Coldplay, who have made a career out of remaking that album.

But nobody tried to follow up "Loveless". Any attempt to do so was doomed to failure. "Loveless" was a singular achievement. The competition had been left so far behind, there was no use in even trying to catch up. Similarly, "The Bends" is far, far easier to remake than "OK Computer", which is why there's been so many clones of the former and no serious attempts to match the sentiment of the latter.

----------

I was prepared to leave my comments like that: short, sweet and nice, but after I saw the Pitchfork writers' individual lists I got in a stew again. First, there is the absurdity of making a Top 100 list. Justifying a Top 10 is easy because each position is of obvious justifiable importance, a Top 30 is about the limit of one's self-assurance, a Top 50 is the limit of sensibility, but a Top 100 is absurd. I can't believe that anyone can state a cognisant, definite reason for having "Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld at #87 and "Dummy" at #88, rather than vice versa.

The tabulation system isn't stated, but I've got a feeling that assigning points 100-1 to albums 1-100 was the chosen method. This would mean that the difference between an album ranked at 1 compared to 8 would be just as much "better" as something ranked at 91 compared to 98. This is obviously inappropriate, partly due to the relative insignificance of the Top 50 compared to the bottom 50, but mainly because the Number One ranking, and probably the entire Top 10, must count for something extra. To use a simplified sports analogy, the team or player with the most first-place votes doesn't always win the award, but this is usually the case. The points systems are geared toward generating results in this way. Thus, I believe there's something of an injustice in "Loveless" ranking at #1 on FOUR writers charts (out of twenty) compared to just ONE for "OK Computer" (and two for Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea).

I've given some thought to making my own Top 30 Redux, but I'm just one person, and my tastes haven't changed enough to produce alterations as dramatic as Pitchfork's (due to large turnover of the staff since 1999, plus the effect of little changes from many people adding up to large changes by the whole). But in short, I'd bump "Loveless" up to #1 on my list, and find room for Slowdive's "Souvlaki", Vainqueur's "Elevations", maybe Bardo Pond's "Lapsed", maybe a Yo La Tengo album, maybe Spectrum's "Highs, Lows, and Heavenly Blows", maybe Slint's "Spiderland" (but unlikely), perhaps Gas' "Konigsforst" (but unlikely, but big ups to Mark Richardson for putting it on his list), and that's pretty much it (off the top of my head). Half of those records were in the running in 1999 (but just missed the cut), and the other half are new (to me) since then.

HOLIDAY MUSIC BUYERS GUIDE -- CANADIAN EDITION. Here's a quick and dirty rundown of notable music releases from 2003. Any of them would make for perfect stocking stuffer fodder for your fave music nut. And since I'm harbouring a bit of anti-American sentiment as of late, this petite buyers guide will feature CANADIAN!! releases only.

Polmo Polpo -- Like Hearts Swelling. Ignore the Alanis-esque heavy-handed title. This album is superior to last year's "The Science of Breath" not least because the slate of influences have been wiped nearly clean. This record sounds like Polmo Polpo more than it sounds like anyone else.

Aidan Baker -- I Fall Into You. It emerges gradually, like slowly opening a pop-up picture book. Not as engaging as last year's drone-tastic "Letters", but if you don't like this release, Aidan's recently put out another 582 for you to choose from instead.

Do Make Say Think -- Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn. Really jazzy, really loose, and really good. As overall statements go, DMST's albums keep getting better. Having said that, as time goes by it becomes more obvious to me that the mercurial twelve minutes of "Goodbye Enemy Airship" was the pinnacle of their career, and I doubt that they will ever top it.

The Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band with Choir -- This is Our Punk Rock, Thee Rusted Satellites Gather + Sing. The band names and titles are getting ridiculous. Really, it's time to stop with it already. The overwrought, be-pompously-arty-at-all-costs lyrics are a drawback as well, but the long (and I do mean LONG) tracks will eventually reward the patient listener. SMZ albums always take extra time to sink in.

Sixtoo -- Antagonist Survival Kit. Nothing mind-blowing as far as (mainly) instrumental hip-hop goes, but a healthy source of phatness nonetheless.

Plastikman -- Closer. It must be hard being Ritchie Hawtin. Or more specifically, it must be hard being a legend. Even more specifically it must be hard being a legend for almost his entire adult life, and having to live up to the mountainous expectations that his formidable reputation demands. On one hand, there's continued adulation if you succeed, but if you fail, there's the spectre of being weighed down by your past and relegated to being over the hill at the ripe young age of 33.

But true genius finds a way to stare down those expectations and deliver the goods again and again. "Closer" is a fucking astounding album. Dare I say it is even darker than its Joy Division namesake. It's so good it puts much of Hawtin's already astounding back catalogue to shame. It's full of frightening and mysterious sounds whose existence you can't begin to fathom without hearing the album. It's essential like oxygen is essential.

Tim Hecker -- Radio Amor. I want to love this album more than I actually do, but I've been stuck in a rut with it for months now. I press play, it grabs me, I marvel at it, but about halfway through I forget that I'm listening to it. Toward the end I remember it's there again and it roughs me up a bit more before it finishes. Anyhow, when it does command my full attention, it's strikingly beautiful, like sitting next to a still lake, water glistening in the moonlight, while alternately shifting glances between a pretty girl and the starry sky. You can only count on Tim Hecker to provide that exact mood with absolute certainty.

Desormais - I Am Broken And Remade. Like Fennesz played with real instruments. Chaotic, organic, lo-fi chillout stuff. And a drastic change from their claustrophobic debut.

A SAD STORY INVOLVING THE COCTEAU TWINS AND FOUR PLANE RIDES.

On the flight from Paris to Berlin, I made a decision. No wait, let's back up.

On the flight from Toronto to Paris, I did some serious thinking. No wait, let's back up some more.

Between my trips to San Jose and Berlin, I listened to the Cocteau Twins "Twinlights" e.p. quite a bit. It's acoustic, it's gorgeous, I think I've written about it before. It's short, it's only thirteen minutes long. As with all the finest music releases, my favourite song kept changing, according to the day and my mood.

"Twinlights" was the first thing I packed for my trip to Berlin. The other musical themes of the trip were mainly German (and Austrian) artists, but make no mistake, "Twinlights" was the CD I wouldn't leave home without. I'd bought it at the revered San Francisco Amoeba, on a Bay Area trip I'd made to see her. No, not to see Amoeba, to see her. The fact that I was with her when I bought the CD was immaterial, I didn't associate it with her at the time. That came later, once I started listening carefully to the lyrics.

On the flight from Toronto to Paris, I did some serious thinking. It was a seven hour flight, but when I was in the mood for music, it was mainly "Twinlights". I think I snuck in Sigur Ros and the Round One to Round Five compilation too, but I can't remember for certain. I remember a young girl of about eight talking my ear off when I was trying to get some sleep and listen to "Twinlights". Anyhow, when I wasn't unexplainedly transifxed by the flight map playing on the video screen of the seat in from of me and the flight staff weren't catering to my every whim, I did manage to get some good listening done. And some thinking. This was an important trip. I missed her. And I was flying in the opposite direction from her.

On the flight from Paris to Berlin, I made a decision. I listened to "Twinlights" three times, and to the track "Half-Gifts" more times than that. Gently floating on air, I watched the sunny skies of France give way to the cloudier skies of Germany. Sitting in the very back row of the plane, I watched the endless clouds pass under the plane far below, and I felt very lonely. I was also nervous -- the Berlin trip was very important, and there was much to do in a limited time. Success would speed up the route to my degree significantly. Crucially, this meant I would have the chance to get out of Toronto and closer to her. Being away from her for this long was just too hard. It had been a month since I'd seen her. After Berlin, it would be perhaps another month, maybe more, until our schedules would allow us to get together again. This was unacceptable to me. The solemn beauty of "Half-Gifts" seemed to perfectly encompass this loneliness. Thus, my decision was to never allow us to be apart for this long ever again.

The fact that "Half-Gifts" is a breakup song left me uneasy, but determined to prove Liz Fraser wrong. "This relationship cannot sustain itself" was particularly unnerving. Bull -- I knew we could sustain it. The song was like a session with the ghost of Christmas Future. It showed me the horrors of what could happen, and made me more defiant that this would not happen.

On the flight from Toronto to Frankfurt, I did very little. The time passed quickly. I didn't listen to any music at all.

On the flight from Frankfurt to Berlin, I'd meant to listen to "Twinlights" to recapture the feeling from three months previous, but slept through almost the entire flight and never got around to it. I was more focused for this trip, even though the trip was twice as important, for I'd be staying for twice as long. After it was over, I'd have a reasonable chance at being Very Nearly Done. Thus, we'd be together soon. I was confident. I knew what needed to be done on this trip. Meanwhile, I'd brought the CD more as an afterthought, mainly as a reminder of the first trip.

A few days ago, I remembered to listen to "Twinlights" one night before bed. "Half-Gifts" moved me less than it had in July, through no fault of its own. I'd dealt with the song by this point. I wasn't scared of its negative message. I was a bit concerned that she'd been a little distant with me over the last month or so, as if things could get any more distant with the North American continent was between us. But hearing "Half Gifts" in my chilly Berlin apartment was uneasy relief. I could hear it, carefully consider it, and remain blissfully ignorant to it.

But perhaps I should have paid closer attention (to signs from her? to the signs in the song? who knows), because she called here about five hours ago and ended it. She'd had similar thoughts to the ones I'd had on that Paris-Berlin flight a few months ago. However, I'd resolved to try harder, whereas she appears to have resolved to stop trying.

I've still got this:

Half-Gifts

It's an old game, my love:
When you can't have me, you want me

Because you know that you're not risking anything

Intimacy is when we're in the same place
At the same time
Dealing honestly with how we feel
And who we really are
That's what grownups do
That is mature thinking

Well I'm still a junkie for it
It takes me out of my aloneness
But this relationship cannot sustain itself

Intimacy is when we're in the same place
At the same time
Dealing honestly with how we feel
And who we really are
That's what grownups do
That is mature thinking

I just have to know
How to be in the process
Of creating things in a better way

And it hurts, but it's a lie
That I can't handle it
I still have a world of me-ness to fulfill

I still have a life
And it's a rich one
Even with mourning
Even with grief and sadness

I still care about this planet
I am still connected to nature
And to my dreams for myself

I have my friends
My family
I have myself
I still have me

I have my friends
My family
I have myself
I still have me

Add No Doubt's "It's My Life" to the list of horrendous cover versions of our time. The first offense committed with this so-called "interpretation" by Gwen and her backing band is the note-for-note rip off. This, I feel, is the number one cover version sin. Why bother covering if you're just xeroxing the original? What purpose can this serve? You're not putting your own personal stamp on it or bringing something new to the song. As a major label recording artist, all you're doing is high budget karaoke.

Then there's the video, which re-casts the defiance of the original as a War of the Roses drama queen overacting vehicle for glamour puss Gwen, who spends the entire four minutes dressing up in poor little rich girl revelry, pouting, complaining, flailing her body around like a rag doll, and generally over-magnifying her best impression of a crazy bitch post-breakup tantrum. Yuck. Watching her do this only draws attention to the whiny singing voice with mustard on top that she uses throughout the entire musical massacre.

It's been on the radio a lot and yet I can't really say I hate it, but that's because the original is so damned killer. There have been equally bad or worse cover versions lately. A good example of the "what's the point of doing a note-by-note autopilot treatment?" is Ride's "The Model", which appeared on an NME 40th anniversary collection about ten years ago. Shoegazers taking a run at Kraftwerk is an intruiging idea in principle, but their cheese-cake try at sounding precisely like the original comes off as perfunctory and soulless.

Then there's Sheryl Crow's attack on "Sweet Child O Mine", which turns the GnR rawk classic into a Sheryl Crow song. It rocks about as hard as Sting does these days, and her attempts to ape Axl's vocal inflections are pure unintentional comedy. Unlistenable.

X-tina, Pink, Mya, and L'il Kim deserve a special mention for covering "Lady Marmalade" about a year after All Saints did (and scored a hit). There should be a statute of limitations on these things, there should be a central register in pop music than regulates against a song being covered more than once in a seven year span. Two girl groups covering the same song one year apart is totally unnecessary. The sad thing is how the public fell for the same bait and turned the second version into a far bigger hit than the first.

A lot of people hate Lenny Kravitz's "American Woman", but I live in Canada so my sample groups are biased. Obviously a lot of people liked it in the US, where it was a hit and won a Grammy (if memory serves). It's not that bad a version, but anyone between the ages of 20 and 40 who grew up in Canada knows that it holds a pale candle to the Guess Who original, and therefore they react with the accordant disgust. The same is true of Madonna's "American Pie", it can't touch the original either, and anyone who truncates the lyrics to fashion a curt three minute song from a magnificent nine minute might as well be breaking the law.

But the worst, and I mean the worst absolutely horrible thing ever covered in our generation is "If You Could Read My Mind" by Stars on 54. The lyrics -- those tactfully poignant, stunningly gorgeous words -- run roughshod by chanting "never thought I could feel this way" as if it were an E-anthem (distorting the meaning of the lines in the most obtuse way possible), over a disco-by-numbers el-cheapo arrangement by a conglomeration of C-list musical stars, all as a tie-in to a truly horrible movie that nearly ruined my attraction to Salma Hayek and was little more than an excuse for Ryan Phillippe to run around for ninety minutes without a shirt. I can't find the proper words to describe how awful this version is. It must have come out during Lightfoot's recent downtime when he was sick and almost died. If he'd heard it playing on the radio every five minutes, he probably would have gotten sick and died that way, and thus his illness could be viewed as a silver lining.

MTV Europe Music Awards!!!!

21:01. Here we go! A warning label re: foul language?!? Bring it on!!

21:03. A huge choir, clad totally in white, sings a cappella "Dirty". X-tina's out dressed like a nun, and suddenly, everybody strips down and gets dirty. Trashy (leather panties and chaps?), and not in a good way. I bet X-tina's still fuming over getting left out of the Britney/Maddy kiss controversy/hype. Her kiss with Madonna wasn't as good anyway. As an aside, Pink said that she wouldn't have done it because she's nobody's bitch. OK. Pink is way more androgenous than the Post-Teen Whores, so there'd be no thrill in watching such a moment anyway.

21:07. This is a really glitzy show, there's laser light and sparkling all over the building. Far more pizzazz than the more basic stage/crowd setup of past years. Sean Paul and Beyonce do "Baby" boy with another cast of zillions. There have been two performances thus far and literally about 75 people on stage.

21:11. X-tina outfit count is at II (unless you count the nun and the leather cowgirl as two, then it's III). I love the method of presenting awards from the islands in the crowd. Much like the Brit Awards from earlier in year, it's very "of the people, for the people".

21:14. JTim wins for Best Album. What's with these testimonials before the nominees are announced? It's a cool idea in theory, but everything flashes by so quickly, I can't keep track.

21:15. "Local hero" Shirley Manson gets maybe one-eighth the pop that JTim got.

21:16. I am really lost with this testimonials thing.

21:17. Best Dance goes to Punjabi MC, which has to be considered an upset considering all the big heavy hitters in this category (Chem. Bros., Moby, Jr. Sr., Oakenfold). Moby keeps saying that he doesn't think he's dance. Well, only the dance community gave a crap about him from 1990-2000, so why he'd want to crap on the fans that stuck with him for years, made him into one of the few true megapersonalities in the genre, listened to him go on about animal rights and other social issues for years, and generally kept his career healthy until he could break through and star in his own videos wearing a spacesuit alongside c-list celebrities, is beyond me.

21:19. Michael Stipe gives a very Stipe-ish mini-speech about rock bands still meaning something and how vital music is still around these days, as he introduces the White Stripes. Note that it's only rock music that people get defensive about with the whole "losing it's significance" bit. You never hear anyone say "they talk about how there aren't any vital bands out there, that they aren't as important as bands in the old days, but this band proves them wrong, here are Massive Attack"! Or "they say that rap music has lost it's conscience since the glory days of PE and BDP, but this band proves that rap is still about more than bitches and hos, here are the Roots". The lingering assertion that 'only rock music = important music' will probably take another 20 years to peter out.

21:23, Vin Diesel sucks up to the Scottish crowd by singing an air while wearing a leather kilt. He annouced the start of voting for Best Song and then splits for another venue. Xtina and Beyonce's tunes crush the others in this category. Beyonce's "Crazy In Love" is the most original-sounding pop tune of the year, but "Beautiful" will be played on every station on the radio dial from now to forever.

21:32. III. X-tina comes out with another ridiculous outfit and rips the press for always criticising what she wears. Maybe if she didn't look like such a cheap whore skank then they wouldn't write those things. Oh, hang on, she doesn't give a f*** what they think. The problem with criticism is you have to take it both ways. In X-tina's case, she can't use the press to write nice things about her transition for pop tart teen to mature adult songwriter, but then piss on them when they don't like her outfits and claim that they don't know what they're talking about. Either make a concerted effort to listen or ignore them. Anyhow, Andre 3000 comes out wearing a striped shirt that no white person could possibly get away with after 1982. Beyonce wins for Best R&B, and X-tina should take notes on her outfit -- that's how to wear something revealing and sexy without looking skanky.

21:40. So much hype over Black Eyed Peas, but when your dopest beats are delivered by JTim's beatboxing, you ain't got much going for you. However, JTim's beatboxing was surprisingly good.

21:42. How is X-tina a fan of Jane's Addiction? What was she, seven when "Ritual" came out? Perry Farrell is nutty, but he falls under the Whiteboy Not Cool : Jewish Exception (from the MTV Awards in September). And the a great thing about European awards shows are the short acceptance speeches. No rambling!

21:47. The Tartan Army renditions are almost as entertaining that the original songs. More so, in the case of Evanescence.

21:52. V. I can't keep up with this show. There's so much happening so fast. X-tina's costume changes for instance. As soon as I write that, she's shown backstage diva-ing it up. She takes ANOTHER shot at the press, which is just dumb when you're in Great Britain. You're asking for it over there -- the tabloids are internationally infamous for a reason. They're smarter than you.

21:57. A wierd MJ clone (not the basketball player) introduces Dido, who provides the singalong ciggy lighter moment of the evening.

22:03. Best Hip Hop goes to Eminem. Europe has got their nomination process together and includes different artists in different categories, as opposed to MTV US which had seemingly had all the same people nominated in every category. It's not hard: decide if they're Pop, R&B, or Hip Hop, just make a decision so that more people get nominated. It makes for a far better show. Eminem accepts via tape, and shows yet again why he is the king of acceptance speeches. He feigns (?) not knowing what the award is for, then he jokes about being given the White Rapper award for the fifth year in a row, and calls everyone a cracker while he eats crackers.

22:04. VI. It's off to the 2nd venue with VinD, with a first-ever Flaming Lips + Chemical Bros collaboration, in which Wayne Coyne sings like a normal person! Did 10 000 people really flock out to the streets to see these guys? They love what they see, though.

22:10. VD refers to Sean Paul's music as reggae instead of dancehall, is this an understandable mistake or not? I don't know. The Tartan Army's "Get Busy" is one sad atempt, since all they can say is the "shake that thing" line.

22:16. VII. X-tina has the dumbest looking big blond wig ever. Oh, hang on it's OK, it's just a prop for introducing The Darkness. The singer looks like Peter Frampton on the cover of "Frampton Comes Alive", which makes sense since this stuff rocks like it's 1975. Whether that's a compliment or not depends on how one feels about 1975, which is therefore left as an exercise for the reader.

22:21. Chingy gets NO reaction, even less than Shirley Manson. Somehow, JTim and Sean Paul are considered "New Acts". SP wins, and although he isn't exactly new, he is the best of this nominated bunch. Wasn't "Gimme the Light" a hit in Europe last year?

22:27. VIII. The Best Video testimonials have almost no connection to the nominees. It's not even close, I had no idea who was getting nominated while watching them. But at least they're nominating the most interesting videos, rather than riveting the nominations onto the most popular artists. Missy, White Stripes, UNKLE, rub elbows with your token artsy nomination for the night, Sigur Ros' "Untitled 1". It obviously has no chance of actually winning. Hell, I didn't even know there were any videos made from the last SR album. Most people probably aren't aware that SR made another album. Most people in the audience probably don't know who SR even are.

22:28. Holy crap, Sigur Ros are the winners! Even Minnie Driver can't believe it. The crowd is stunned and has no idea what to do. This was like Anna Paquin winning Best Supporting Actress at the Oscars. Nobody expected an apparent "outsider" to win, and the reactions were those of confusion and bewilderment more than disappointment or envy. I remain so shocked that I can barely pay attention to Kylie's delicious performance.

22:42. IX. Easily her best outfit yet. A humanitarian award is given to the president of Burma, who is under house arrest by the Burmese army. She will be given her award once she is freed. This was a nice gesture. How come we never hear about this Burmese conflict in North America? I think the media there would rather make up stories about Arafat's perceived imprisonment rather than than report on the true innocents.

22:48. Missy's performance takes a back seat to the rapping and dancing happening around her. The new track features impeccable production, a hellaciously fat bass line, all the makings of another huge hit for her. Having said that, I still can't understand the big deal about Missy herself. I think she's a case of the Emperor's New Clothes -- as with Janet Jackson, her career would be gravely wounded if not for her producers making her sound so fantastic.

22:51. Best Female is X-tina, who accepts while wearing X. Fix! Fix!

22:56. Speaking of producers, JTim accepts the Best Male award from the guys who produced his record. Good for Chad and Pharrell, getting to share the stage with him for this one.

23:06. Travis play a decent mid-tempo rocker. These types of songs aren't their strong suit. The weepy songs are but those aren't really suited for this type of show (although Dido did manage to pull it off earlier). On the other hand, Fran Healy has thankfully given up with that dumb mohawk. They're playing the last few notes of the song and suddenly, there are naked people everywhere, cameras cutting all over the place and disorientation reigns. Wha?

23:11. Coldplay win for Best Group and accept via tape in an elevator whose door keeps trying to close on them. Unfortunately, it's one millionth as funny as it sounds.

23:14. Kelly Osborne sees it fit to rip on the "X-tina as diva" dart-throwing gag from earlier in the show, and the crowd turns on her in about 0.5 seconds and nearly boos her out of the building. Any segment that involves Kelly Osborne getting humiliated is a big thumbs up in my book. Particularly when she brings it on herself. JTim wins yet again, this time for Best Pop. He's cleaning up like he did at the MTV VMA's.

23:17. And now, it's the most surreal musical moment of the century thus far, as Kraftwerk make their first ever live TV appearance, and it's on MTV to boot in front of thousands of screaming kids. Kylie introduces them and gives them the major influence props. She can't help but state the case lightly, since this is just a three hour show. There's still four of them up there, which is obviously unneccessary in the laptop era, but Kraftwerk's live mystique is so tied up in the visual impact of having four performers that there isn't much of a choice, even if we all know that it's Ralf, Florian, and Two Guys That Don't Mean a Thing (athough in former robot Wolfgang Flur's engaging autobiography, he wrote it was like that all along, from Ralf and Florian's perspective of course). The video screens are simply stunning, with everything in black and green; streamlined, panning graphics sliding by in all directions; all of it perfect for the slick vibe of "Aerodynamik". And then it's over, just like that. MTV Germany immediately airs a pre-show presentation to Die Artze for Best German Group. Amd after all the reclusiveness, the refusals to collaborate with Bowie or with film projects, the seventeen years between albums, the parcity of interviews, and the decades of Mythic Man Machine uber-inflation, they finally relented and appeared on TV. And of course, it's underwhelming, because myths are always better heard and not seen. Like Ted Williams tipping his cap in Fenway Park after 50 years of steadfast refusal, or Inigo Montoya killing Count Rogan and being unsure about what to do with the rest of his life, there's the endless mountain of expectation, followed by the brier execution of the act, followed by ... nothing.

23:30. XII. And Vin Diesel's back? Just one song on the second stage. Apparently there was also more from the Lips, Chems, plus Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and Jane's Addiction. Screw this show, broadcast that instead! And Best Song goes to ... I'm getting the feeling that JTim's got the momentum tonight and he's gonna steal it ... but mass voter sanity comes through in the end as Beyonce rightfully wins.

23:36. Pink La Rock Chick in a skintight devil's suit is infinitely more interesting than Pink the Cookie-Cutter R&B singer. I like the edgier direction she's taken, particularly on a song like "Just Like a Pill".

23:39. XIII (unless I lost count somewhere) !!! The last segment is nothing more than X-tina modeling her thirteenth and final outfit, and then it's goodbye. For the show overall, the short and choppy segments means that nobody's up there long enough to start sucking (except for Kelly Osborne, but her appearance was loads of fun for reasons already detailed). Literally NOTHING was bad, not one performance, presenter or speech. But while watching the credits roll and seeing the clips from earlier in the show, I notice I've already forgotten about a lot of the stuff and need to check my notes to jog my memory. There were no lows, but there were no truly supercool moments or perfomances, of which there were several on the US show. This show was uniformly pop, whereas the US show had pop, rap (which ruled) and rock (which sucked for the most part). Plus, watching the Good Charlottes and Linkin Parks blow chunks provided me with a sadistic pleasure of watching them get outclassed and outwitted by every rap and R&B artist. Thus, the MTV Europe Music Awards was certainly a very good show, but at no point was it a great one.

I am hyped for these MTVEMA's. So hyped that I watched a show that compiled notable performances from MTVEMA's of years past:

Madonna (2000). A simple and classy run through "Music", with just her plus a few dancers. A throwback to the basics of the "Holiday" video.

Britney (1999). This was just the opposite. Extravagant, featuring a cast of thousands, stop/start cuts between multiple songs, a precision-choreographed dance routines, and Britney's usual (false) reliance on jerky motions = intensity.

Robbie Williams (2002). Robbie is so cool, every motion his body makes while on stage declares "I am a pop star". Future aspiring pop stars need to study tape of Robbie to improve their craft. Fans are drawn to his arrogant strut (everyone loves a winner) but he also shows a sensitive, boyish charm that makes him loveable (unlike, say Liam Gallagher, who has the arrogance and the poses downpat, but is absent in the mama's boy likeability department. I wonder if Robbie was dissecting these sorts of thoughts in his mind when he was following Oasis around during 1994 and everyone thought he was embarrassing himself, career-wise. Seriously, good ol' boy band Robbie puppy dogging it around badass mercurial stars Oasis was, in 1994, a chalk and cheese mixture if there ever was one. Imagine a Backstreet Boy becoming a tour groupie for The Strokes, it was that kind of wierd. America, of course, has also found an affinity for embracing the badder side of their rosy-cheeked boy band heroes -- just look at how J. Timberlake's cred has improved since he went out on his own, grew some facial hair, kissed-and-told vis-a-vis Britney, and became linked with a procession of other hot women).

I don't care if he can't hit the high notes so well, "Feel" is a smashing song. One of his recent concerts was shown on a station called Pro7 a couple of nights ago, I think it was Knebworth because the crowd was soooo huge. I don't think I've ever seen a crowd have so much adulation for a performer, ever. It made "Dave Gahan circa early 1990's" look like "Any Non-Jewish White Presenter, MTV Video Awards 2003". He was nearly breaking down from it all and could barely get through set-closer "Feel". That's the kind of vulnerability that people can't help but cling to. He said all the right things, thanked all the right people, told the crowd how much the moments meant to him and told them how he was getting older (that vulnerability again, you don't hear guys on the wrong side of thirty talk about their age while on stage) and how he longed to grow old with all of them.

A couple of weeks later, he did a 180 and spoke seriously about abruptly ending his musical career, claiming his life was actually quite miserable. I guess it's really difficult coming down from a Knebworth-sized high.

George Michael (1994). I wasn't feeling it with the pandering orchestral ballad "Jesus to a Child".

Eminem (2002). But it was different with *this* solo performance. Eminem held Barcelona in a trance with "Cleaning out My Closet", and was then joined by the posse for the brand new "Lose Yourself". Not a single awards show goes by without an Eminem moment. This one featured a shot of Mr. Mathers' pants falling down past his ass, and his pimping of a then-unknown 50 Cent.

Kylie (2001). Excess done well. This is excess in the form of fun, not excess in the form of "look at me!!" like when Britney does it.

David Bowie(1995). A creepy, spooky, drum n bass tinged "Man Who Sold the World" (only one year after Nirvana's famous remake, and the two versions couldn't have been more different. This was practically Bowie covering himself), two years before Bowie went full-fledged DnB.

H-Blockx (1995). For those who like this sort of thing (cock hard rock rap metal), this still works very well today, in that all of the other crappy bands making this music still sound identical to this in 2003.

Guano Apes (2000). I think we're finishing the show on a German tip. The singer's DIVA shirt (in the VISA design) is the best part, otherwise, this is hard rock hell. Everyone in the band looks like a complete freak, which I gather is the point.

Rammstein (2001). A guilty pleasure with this one. It's like the German KISS, there's fire, costumes, makeup, and best of all, those gruff, caustic accents. It's like in the 80's, when you'd hear a bunch of industrial sung in English, but no matter how many effects were thrown onto it to make it sound sinister, it never sounded as nasty as Laibach just singing with straight German accents (except Laibach aren't German. Oh well. Still nasty, though). If don't have anything nice to say about somewhat, don't just say it, say it while grumbling in German. The mad-for-it Frankfurt crowd made for a fun visual also.

I love MTV Germany. My new favourite hobby is watching the MTVG shows with subtitles and seeing how they translate the English slang into German. The exception is the German "Dismissed", which alters the catchphrase to the inherently hilarious Denglish phrase "Du bist dismissed" (can't do it justice unless it's said with a German accent). But "Doggy Fizzle Televizzle" takes the cake -- you'd expect it to be nearly untranslateable, and indeed it is, since words ending in "izzle" never seem to show up in the translation (but I'll keep watching to see if any of them do). The fun is watching the subtitles helplessly try to keep up with Snoop.

I spent Saturday night in Kreuzberg, which is the "alternative" area of Berlin, or the approximate equivalent of Queen Street in Toronto. Among the stops was a bar called "Franke" (probably not the correct name or spelling but it's the best that I can remember), which was filled with cruddy hipster types and black leather with makeup types. The music played was exclusively punk, and 70% of that was the Ramones. We also hit up a bar called Madonna in which I was the youngest person there by a good ten years. The music was the Mighty Q's own classic rock. The small dancefloor was continuously packed with more mullets than a Maple Leafs game and women who were not so much cougars as they were the older sisters of cougars.

Sometimes, the further away you travel from home, the more things stay the same.