Awards Show as Exciting as Curling

It had some moments, including a pair of crashers, Aretha Franklin subbing for Luciano Pavarotti and Stevie Wonder and Babyface cooking together. Yet as Henny Youngman, who died Tuesday, might say: Take this telecast . . .

Please!

The Grammys? On the technical side, somewhere in the mid 5s. For creativity, excitement and presentation, about a 4.5. In other words, no chance for a medal.

Where were all those CBS commercials when you wanted them to interrupt the regularly scheduled program? The evening gave credence to a rumor going around about an 11th-hour appeal to President Clinton, urging him to bomb Iraq during the awards.

At least this was one competition that CBS showed promptly, discounting the standard three-hour tape-delay to the West Coast. Based on what it did in Nagano, Japan, you half expected the network to delay its telecast of Wednesday night’s Grammys until tonight. Or drag out Tonya and Nancy for one last setup for the cameras. And by the way, wasn’t that a Nike logo host Kelsey Grammer was wearing?

All right, a series of ugly cheap shots. However, it was inevitable that the chill of the Winter Olympics would resurface here, given lingering viewer resentment over CBS’ coverage of the Games and the inclusion of 15-year-old figure skating gold medalist Tara Lipinski--the real Babyface in this crowd--as one of Wednesday’s presenters in New York’s Radio City Music Hall.

Thumbs up to the location, at least--a huge improvement over that biospheric Super Bowl, Madison Square Garden, the site of last year’s Grammys after the awards moved east from Los Angeles.

The first of the unscheduled performers was ODB, a nonwinning nominee from rap group Wu-Tang Clan who left his seat in the audience to make an impromptu speech in front of the camera before being coaxed off the stage.

Much more welcome was the anonymous Crasher No. 2, who rose to the occasion while Bob Dylan, who later earned a Grammy for best album, was laboring through “Love Sick.” Although Dylan’s reputation as a creative force in contemporary music is assured, his mumbly performance skills are worse than ever. So to the rescue comes this bare-chested guy, who begins gyrating beside Dylan in spasmodic fits reminiscent of John Belushi’s classic impression of Joe Cocker on “Saturday Night Live.” He was removed all too soon, unfortunately diverting attention back to Dylan.

Give Aretha a 6.0 for chutzpah and retitle her the diva of soul for singing “Nessun Dorma” in place of the sore-throated Pavarotti, providing an especially memorable chapter in Grammycast history. And singing the nominated “How Come, How Long” with Babyface, Stevie Wonder affirmed that his voice still has more curves than Fiona Apple’s hips.

Otherwise, this was mostly just another show, as Grammycasts usually are, with supervising producer John Cossette unable to find a way to transcend fragmented musical tastes to create three hours with universal appeal during an evening when Branson, Mo., intersects with Motown.

What may play well to the audience in the hall, moreover, does not necessarily work on the small screen. R. Kelly singing his Grammy-winning “I Believe I Can Fly,” for example, resonated much more powerfully as an inspirational message than as a musical performance on TV.

The trouble is that Grammycast planners never really believe this telecast can fly, else they would be taking creative risks instead of inevitably playing it so safe. The only ones taking risks Wednesday night were the crashers.

“Frasier” star Grammer was amiable enough, meanwhile, and perhaps a fitting choice, as he noted to the audience, to emcee on the Grammys’ 40th anniversary. Yet the event’s middle-aged paunch is showing, and choosing NBC’s trademark stuffed shirt to host it, after stints by Ellen DeGeneres and Paul Reiser, is more evidence that the Grammycast is about as hip as curling. Douse the flame.