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Go Adam Lambert! Sex Sex and more Sex
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Rock and roll. Yes yes yes. It is still edgy. If rock and roll was supposed to shock and horrify and question and make us look at a the road not taken then certainly Adam Lambert succeeded last night at the American Music Awards. He was the crowning moment of a night of body suits (see Lady GaGa smashing booze bottles on her flaming piano) or the usual rappers with Eminem crotch grabbing and being bleeped out of every other line by the networks. Usual fare from an industry that just cant get over it's privates parts. Ho hum
But then comes Adam. Looking like something from about 1985 with ensemble drag queens and Rocky Horror picture dancers and Adam brings it on like the Calvary and does everything except have sex. Fellatio, crotch grabbing (men and women) thrusting, gyrating, making out, the man was a one man dynamo of LETS F*&^%. And it did notch it up one more (you see that goes to eleven and not ten...Eleven is louder you see) and we all had to squint and see if Adam was really doing some of things he seemed to be emulating. Not since Madonna made out with Brittany did the AMA hit such a low...or is it high (see ratings)
When all else fails sell sex. We see this as the only thing left to sell in a sagging music business. And that's fine. It still shocks. It still fascinates and if social rebellion has been left by the wayside (it has_) then rock and roll and rap and hip hop has to cling to the only thing left that will get people off the couch and that is pushing the bar on sex. Even Lady GaGa, silly as she looked in her body suit and flaming piano, has to bow to the inevitable titillation of being naked on stage even if she is not.
But by the end we had become bored. How many songs talking about sex and suggesting sex and performing sex can we endure. Even pornography becomes run of the mill if you look at enough of it. And so the best was saved for last. And maybe it was the single image of the dancer performing fellatio on old Adam that brought the house down or his making out in the middle of the number or maybe we just were brought to our natural limit of butts and thighs and gyrations and crotch grabs and women dressed as hookers or madams of brothels that Adam was able to hit the stratosphere of Rocky Horror Picture Show wonderment.
Anyway, it was good television, if nothing else.
William Hazelgrove writes in Ernest Hemingways attic. His latest book is Rocket Man.
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