1988 Grammy Awards: A Retrospective

On a cold night in New York, a song from a movie about a cartoon rat beat the biggest names in music. This, and other lessons from the 1988 Grammy Awards.

Ah yes, the Grammys. Music’s Biggest Night™! For over six decades, the Recording Academy has been absolutely addicted to rewarding mediocre white people with gramophones. It’s honestly shocking that I don’t have one.

Despite their myriad of controversies and consistently poor decision-making (I’m looking at you, Beck!) the Grammys have managed to maintain their relevance. Because if there’s one thing famous people love more than complaining about not getting recognized, it’s actually getting recognized.

With the 63rd Grammy Awards set for this Sunday, I thought it would be fun to look back at a ceremony from the past: to see how things have changed, how they’ve evolved and, of course, how they’ve stayed the same.

We’re going all the way back to 1988, which is a glorious year because it’s the year I was born! It’s also one of the only full Grammy ceremonies I could find on YouTube.

Let’s rock ‘n’ roll (a music term)!

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We’re live from Radio City Music Hall and Whitney Houston is here to kick things off with a performance of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me).” This is already the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve often thought about bucking my aversion to traditional marriage just so I could have a wedding and play this at 1:32 am absolutely blacked out.

This would be me.

Whitney, of course, absolutely kills it and it just goes to show how incredible she really was. I’ll never forget where I was when I found out she died (the bathroom at a community theater production of “Spring Awakening”) or how much she’s meant to me. To all of us.

The PA announcer lists off the performers and presenters for this evening and I’ve literally never heard of most of them. Things are off to a rollicking start.

This guy, however, I do know! Billy Crystal is hosting the Grammys for some reason.

His first joke is that Radio City Music Hall is the only building in New York that Donald Trump doesn’t own. This has taken a severe turn.

Due to the popularity of Run-DMC, Billy jokes that the all-female group “Run-PMS” will be performing, and I think that’s enough Billy for one evening.

Detroit’s own-Anita Baker and Robbie Robertson award Whitney with the the first Grammy of the evening, taking home Best Female Pop Vocal Performance for the song she performed to open the show. Her speech is short and sweet and perfect.

Our first performers are Los Lobos! I…had no idea Los Lobos were this popular.

I want to be this guy, just sort of aimlessly hitting something with a drumstick the entire time.

It feels pretty progressive that, over thirty years ago, Los Lobos were given the opening performance slot on the Grammys with a Spanish-language song. But their cover of “La Bamba” went to #1 in 1988! PEOPLE LOVED LOS LOBOS IN THE LATE 80’S!!!!

Detroit’s-own Bob Seger awards U2 with Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocal for “The Joshua Tree.” Apparently the Grammys used to combine albums and singles into one category, which is absolutely insane.

In addition to loving Los Lobos, I guess people in the late 80’s loved top hats.

In his speech, The Edge manages to thank Desmond Tutu, Martin Luther King, Walt Disney, Dr. Ruth and “sumo wrestlers throughout the world.” I think that’s enough Edge for one evening.

Unfortunately, at this time, I must inform you that Billy Crystal takes it upon himself to do an impression of a Black blues singer. It is, without question, one of the worst things I have ever seen in my dumb life. Who, may I ask, is Billy Crystal’s audience? Yeah sure, we all think “When Harry Met Sally” is fine and good. But, does anybody really love Billy Crystal? Do those people exist? Am I completely off the mark? Please don’t tell me.

What follows is a tribute to musical legends, which is highlighted by a performance of “Hi-De-Ho” by Cab Calloway featuring a sing-and-repeat with New York Mayor Ed Kock and Cyndi Lauper. Enough to make you feel like you’ve taken hallucinogens (I haven’t yet).

For some reason, Lou Reed is part of the tribute, singing “Walk On The Wild Side,” a song released 16 years prior to the ceremony, from what appears to be a stairwell.

Run-DMC gets a small performance slot. Hey, cut to Ed Koch during this!

Because the show is in New York, Billy Joel pops out of the floor to sing or whatever. He does his crooner thing and the crowd absolutely eats it up. Billy Joel has this amazing talent where, despite singing his own songs, he always sounds like he’s drunkenly singing somebody else’s.

Liza Minnelli and Patrick Swayze combine forces to present Best Musical Cast Show Album, the gayest moment in Grammys history. Swayze is here because “Dirty Dancing” had come out the year before. Liza is here because she’s Liza.

In what world was this decided to be rewarded on the main telecast? Listen, I’m not complaining. Anything to hear Liza flaunt the correct pronunciation of “Les Misérables.” It’s chill-inducing. Vibrant. Cathartic. Magic.

She gets to say it twice because it wins.

Suzanne Vega is here to bring a little Lilith Fair to Radio City. She sings “Luka,” a very sad song about child abuse that is nominated for four Grammys, including Record and Song of the Year. Undeniably a downer on this festive night, but it’s a moving performance. Way to go, Suzanne!

The first big award of the night is up and Song of the Year goes to…“Somewhere Out There” from the soundtrack to “An American Tail?!” What in the holy hell is this?

This schmaltzy ballad beats Whitney’s “Didn’t We Almost Have It All,” U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” America’s favorite 80’s band Los Lobos and Lilith Fair’s Suzanne Vega for the award. Now I can firmly and factually state that the Grammys have been addicted to bad decisions for my entire lifetime.

I’m not even the biggest U2 fan in the world, but imagine writing “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” and losing to a song from a movie about a rodent.

Inexplicably, Jackie Mason, who is nominated for Best Comedy Recording, is out to work on his open mic material. He asks a man in the audience if he’s “Black or just a tan Jew?” He says Black people can dance so well because they’re used to hearing the clicking of car doors as they walk by.

This show belongs in prison.

Robin Williams ends up winning Comedy Recording, his first of two in a row. In the 62 years of this award being rewarded, it’s only gone to a woman three times: Elaine May (with Mike Nichols), Whoopi Goldberg and Kathy Griffin. Bill Cosby has won seven times. These are just facts I am presenting.

Ah, speaking of sexual predators!

Michael Jackson performs “The Way You Make Me Feel” and “Man In The Mirror.” His dancing, stage presence and charisma are just unmatched. It’s really something to see. He’s here for “Bad,” which is nominated for Album of the Year and a couple of other nominations for the title track. It’s pretty fascinating, though, that he (spoiler alert!) didn’t receive one Grammy this era, despite the album having five #1 singles.

Anyway, moving on.

U2 manages to recover after losing to a song about a mouse to win Album of the Year, beating out Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Prince and the trio of Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt. What a group.

Bono gives a rambling speech about loving soul music and that his skin color shouldn’t preclude him from making it. Whatever, man. Bono walked so Ryan Gosling in “La La Land” could run.

Up next, they announce winners for a bunch of Classical categories. I ain’t reading all that. I'm happy for u tho, or sorry that happened.

As they present Producer of the Year, they cut to Michael Jackson looking absolutely dejected after failing to do what a cartoon rat was able to do.

George Strait is here for a rough and rowdy country medley! Yee haw! The genre whiplash I’m getting from this ceremony is going to send me to the ER.

George, and the performers who follow (Randy Travis! Restless Heart! Somebody named K.T. Oslin!), all do their Country Night at the karaoke bar thing. It’s astonishing they both saw what Whitney and Michael had planned at dress rehearsal and still agreed to perform.

After the country portion of the show goes on about 25 minutes too long, they give out the award for Best Country Song, and it goes to two dudes who look…exactly how you’d expect the two dudes who win Best Country Song in 1988 to look!

They win for Randy Travis’ “Forever and Ever, Amen” which will absolutely get stuck in your head if you dare to listen to it. And who doesn’t love a country ear worm!

In some states, I do believe “country ear worm” is a gay slur.

Terence Trent D’Arby performs next and gets the Next Big Thing treatment. It did not come to fruition.

Before they present Best New Artist, Little Richard and Buster Poindexter (the solo persona of the New York Dolls’ David Johansen) engage in a bit of infamous Grammy history. Little Richard makes fun of Poindexter’s hair and says “I used to wear my hair like that. They take everything I get. They take it from me." It’s a much-needed, deserved moment after the weird, uncomfortable racial undertones of the entire broadcast.

Oh, but Little Richard is not finished. Before opening the envelope he says “And the Best New Artist is…me! I have never received nothing. Y'all ain't ever gave me a Grammy and I’ve been singing for years. I am the architect of rock 'n' roll and they never gave me nothing. And I am the originator!"

It’s hard to disagree.

The crowd concurs!

Anyway, Jody Watley (who would never be nominated for another Grammy) wins Best New Artist. For better or worse, the entire moment is about Little Richard. Sorry, Jody!

Despite his open argument, Little Richard would never win a legitimate Grammy, outside of Hall of Fame and Lifetime Achievement wallpaper.

Perhaps it’s not the number of Grammys, it’s the number of standing ovations granted after complaining about not having one.

As if this show couldn’t get any weirder, they force a segment where legendary broadcaster Jocko Henderson does his best “Clint Eastwood at the RNC” impression and talks to a radio sitting on a barstool.

He trots out a bunch of un-introduced artists to sing old radio standards. The audience’s exhaustion is palpable. The entire thing is pointless and confusing.

It taught me that radios are bad.

Lena Horne and Quincy Jones are here to present Best Rock Vocal Solo Performance!

They get a standing ovation. Ahhhhh. Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley! Run, Christie!

The Grammy goes to Bruce Spring….

er, sorry

BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE Springsteen for his album “Tunnel of Love.”

Bruce is not in attendance, so Lena and Quincy transition right into Record of the Year, the final Grammy of the night, which goes to Paul Simon’s “Graceland.”

PAUL SIMON IS ALSO NOT IN ATTENDANCE.

Who produced this thing? The winners of THE FINAL TWO AWARDS OF THE TELECAST AREN’T IN THE DAMN BUILDING?

Maybe they left after the Jackie Mason routine. Bruce couldn't make it over from whatever dive bar he was saddling up to in Asbury? What a mess.

It has to be tough when Michael Jackson, the biggest star in the world, lost his major awards to the gerbil movie song and a bunch of Irish dudes looking like chimney sweepers. But come on! Re-arrange some things. Give Whitney her award at the end of the night! Let Whitney close out the show!

Instead, this clusterfuck of people who look like they wandered over from performing at the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square bring us home.

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So, what to make of this show?

Well, it sucks.

The Michael Jackson performance, in a bubble, is iconic. Fast forward 32 years and it’s, well, whatever you want to make of it. Most of the rest is questionable, at best.

The Grammys have a long way to go, but watching this show makes you realize that they’ve always been objectionable. I mean, can an awards body that has yet to reward Beyonce with Album of the Year really be taken seriously? And not one single Grammy for Stacie Orrico?! Do they have merit? Am I screaming into a void?

Ultimately, I’d like to think some good can rise from the evil of Billy Crystal’s racist impressions and the insistence that Billy Joel is a legitimate musician. Maybe outlaw the name Billy? Suggestions welcome.

Personally, I’ll remember Whitney.

To see her so vibrant, so full of talent…it’s awe-inspiring. It makes you grateful for what she graced us with, and heartbroken for what was eventually lost.

Whitney Houston forever.