All Gimmick, No Game

Anytime you go home for Thanksgiving you’ll inevitably end up being engaged in conversations you don’t really want to be in. In my case, I was in a bar arguing the artistic merits of Lady Gaga. My position was: she had very little. The young lady I was talking to was a fan of hers and possibly a recent victim of brain trauma.

This usually wouldn’t have drawn me in except for the fact that I was home a couple Saturdays before and caught Saturday Night Live for the first time in a long time. The entire episode was pretty forgettable except for Lady Gaga’s performances. The first one was an absolute mindfuck to the point that I actually thought I may have accidentally ingested peyote. Half her face was obscured by her costume (not a huge loss) and her spastic routine would have looked like a seizure if not for the equally bizarrely clad backup dancers mimicking her every move. Someone actually choreographed this train wreck. When I thought it could not get any stranger, a man that looked disturbingly similar to ex-San Antonio Spurs center David Robinson came onstage dressed like Lady Gaga and began to dance his ass off. He did not dance well mind you, but he was giving it one hell of an effort.

Her second performance was even more interesting. She was on a pedestal dressed in, I shit you not, a gyroscope. She was singing while the metal bars rotated and I was spellbound that about 10 million people, including myself, would see Lady Gaga decapitated live on television. Then she stopped the song right in the middle (I could not tell you what song it was, I was so captivated by the gyroscope) and awkwardly moved her way over to a piano. She had trouble sitting down in her insane costume to the point that it was clear she had never worn this thing before and hadn’t thought about the logistics of sitting or playing an instrument in it.

Then, as far as I’m concerned, the strangest thing of the night occurred. She was good. The piano playing, even while being hindered by several pounds of metal orbits, was impressive but it was her voice that was really the best part. Say what you want about Lady Gaga, but that dude can sing. This, combined with my Verne Troyer sized expectations, was absolutely spellbinding... and utterly confusing and ultimately frustrating.

We live in a time when everyone wants to be famous, almost anybody can be famous, and very few people actually should be famous. So, instead of just paying attention to the people that deserve it because they are talented, we often pay attention to the lowest common denominator. Why? Because we have people that mask their lack of any discernible ability with gimmicks that catch your attention. This is mildly annoying but not nearly as disturbing as people with actual talent doing the same just so they can get noticed in the crowd clamoring for attention.

I suppose that's to be expected. Who wants to rely on talent and years of hard work when they can just sing while pole dancing in a crotchless spacesuit?* But the former gives you staying power and the latter makes you nothing more than a flash in the pop culture pan. As always, talent trumps all. The girl in the bar defending Lady Gaga will realize this eventually. And hopefully, so will everyone else.

*For those of you wondering if I would dance crotchless in a spacesuit to promote this blog, the answer is no for two reasons:

1. Most people do not want to see that.

2. I am absolutely terrified of anyone who does.