We watch the BRIT Awards 2012 (so you don’t have to)

Last Tuesday night saw the 2012 BRIT Awards ceremony take place at the O2 Arena in Greenwich. Whilst the destination of each award bore little prestige and even less surprise when announced - a quick scan of the live performers gave a reasonably clear indication of how the gongs would be distributed - we recorded a blow by blow account of proceedings so that you don’t have to take time out of your busy life to watch them. Yes, you could have used this information ahead of time.

First, a mention for the pre-show ‘red-carpet’ event, presented by Leigh Francis in his ever popular Keith Lemon guise, and Laura Whitmore. Who? Exactly. Here, we got the answers to key questions such as ‘How many TVs do Rizzle Kicks have in their house?’, ‘Is Olly Murs on the pull tonight?’, and ‘What is Pixie Lott for?’ One of these questions may not have been genuinely asked. Highlights include no-one knowing who Chase & Status are, society crumbling as Alex James said ‘shit’ on live TV, and Whitmore begging for one of her production team to give her ‘a question for Jessie J, please…. before she comes in…’ being inadvertently broadcast. This led to these insightful sound-bites: “I always wanted to get an A-star in art,” and “I was messaging [Ed Sheeran] this morning about pancakes and what we have on our pancakes”. I swear it, these quotes are real. Rock’n’roll is alive and well, folks.

But enough about the support act, let’s get to the headliners. Here‘s mine (black type) and ML’s (blue type) running commentary of the awards…

19:59 (MJ) Coldplay open the show, slightly early by my watch, in their neon emblazoned denim with what I assume is their forthcoming single, ‘Charlie Brown’. Never has the Peanuts comic strip had its name taken in vain so shamelessly. We tracked down Charlie for a live reaction…

I hear ya, bro.

The performance is everything you would expect from the band. Some pyrotechnics are the only thing that retain my interest, which peaks during one particularly incendiary moment towards the song’s end. However, the possibility of the band being wiped out in a fireball is unfortunately wishful thinking.

20:04 Walking fat joke James Corden takes the reins. Mention is made of Sir Peter Blake – he of Sgt. Pepper fame – who has designed this year’s statuette.

It looks like it should contain bubble bath...

20:05 A pre-taped vignette is played for British Album of the Year nominee, ‘21’ by Adele. Adele benefits from what I refer to as “Waller’s Law”, or “McManus’ Maxim”; the assumption that any recording artist who is overweight brings an emotional depth to their performance that those with a normal BMI cannot muster. The girl’s got talent, but would she really warrant all the international fuss if she wasn’t marketed as an ‘inspiration’ to all of us who carry a little timber?

True fact: Adele’s record label is XL.

20:06 A Whitney Houston tribute lasts all of 30 seconds. Feels lazy.

20:08 (ML) What did I miss? Oh. So, here we go, that night when we all pretend that music is some sort of dun-faced meritocracy; a competition that can somehow be “won”. As we know, the real winners are the advertisers and sponsors, along, of course, with the errant human dreck that comprise the British music industry, who are already busy getting wankered on Bollinger and patting themselves on the back. I’m doomed to fail in my attempt to maintain that phlegmatic attitude when neither Laura Marling nor Bon Iver get anything and Adele sweeps the board.

20:09 Florence and the Machine perform. Florence looks tired beyond her 26 years. The instrumentation that defined her sound in 2009 (melodic harps and big drums, basically) is front of centre as this pony is encouraged to repeat that one trick… dull, dull, dull…

That reminds me, I must get that bloke round to unblock my drains.

20:12 Commercial break. Mark Ronson tries to sell me Olympic tickets.

20:16 Nominees for Best British Female Solo Artist are announced by Kylie, who’s looking good for 72.

Marling won’t win again surely? If we’re doing it on current merit it has to be Kate Bush. If we’re doing it on past glories it has to be Kate Bush. It’s... shock of shocks, ADELE. And is that Sid Owen cheering her on from her table? If there’s ever been anyone more deserving of a Brit for his glittering soft reggae pop career, it’s him.

We get a close-up of British non-Female Artist Ed Sheeran for no discernible reason. Adele appears to be momentarily possessed by the spirit of Barbara Windsor before thanking her record company for “letting her be herself”. Inspiring.

One of those rare moments in history when the country comes together, thinking exactly the same thing at the same time. “That can’t be Adele’s speaking voice!”

20:18 Jessie J’s punchable jawline presents Best International Male Solo Artist with Jack Whitehall. She appears to have styled her hair like a spaniel for the occasion.

Whitehall demonstrates a level of reading comprehension almost on a par with our glorious host, fluffing his intro beautifully. He’ll be leading proceedings next year at this rate. The only other thing remarkable about him is his haircut, which, fittingly, makes him look like an unmitigated Jessie J (i.e. twat).

Come on Bon Iver. WIN FOR MUSIC! (Phlegmatic attitude gone.)

Possible midget BRUNO MARS wins the award, with the voting panel missing a golden chance to speak to us ‘cool kids’ with a win for Bon Iver or Ryan Adams. Non-international Male Ed Sheeran receives another close-up shot for no reason.

At least Little Richard’s looking spry eh? The voiceover, in dead-eyed, sanguine tones, tries to convice us that popularity and quality inherently correlate, this being the mantra of and spurious justification for the evening. Also, somewhere a poorly guarded Mexican border crossing is missing a furtive illegal immigrant. Can I say that? Probably not.

(Jesus.)

20:22 Our first moment of genuine excitement as some random suit walks between Corden and camera.

GIVE HIM A BRIT!

20:23 Olly Murs comes flying out of a heart shaped sculpture adorned with a Union Jack design. Judging by the subsequent accuracy of his vocal pitch, one can only assume he has been winded by the exertion. It’s the only explanation. No way is this kid a bad singer. You don’t come second on X-Factor by being a bad singer.

Murs is on. I have literally nothing acerbic to say. After all, if he can’t be bothered to put out something that’s not even shit enough to comment on, why should I? It's actually more entirely anodyne, like eating a bowl of air.

20:25 The Critics Choice (sic, apostrophe fans, it’s what the graphic says) Award is doled out, apparently to Max Headroom. This, for me, encompasses the rampant banality of the Brits, which is of course why we love it and hate it in equal measure. A new breed of gong given to a new artist, it's an altogether more sinister beast in that it’s a thinly veiled marketing tool, replete with faux authenticity in claiming to be a highbrow critics’ choice, as opposed to the other awards which are just massively explicit press stunts. Who are these shadowy figures that are involved in the judging process? We're not told. That Jessie J won it last year really says it all. How can someone who’s barely released anything win an award?

True Fact: EMELI SANDE’s real name is Adele.

20:27 Ed Sheeran performs ‘Lego House’, and all I can think about is how very ginger he is. His bum-fluff beard looks like fuzzy felt. He has changed out of the suit he arrived in. Decked in surfer T-shirt and jeans, he almost trips over his words at one point, probably trying to decide whether to continue to slum it or to smarten up for when he inevitably wins an award…

20:30 I’m embarrassed to say and have to confess that I pre-judged Sheeran having never heard him. Now I have, I know he’s shit. Can’t sing, can’t play, is ginger.

20:31 We’ve had more performances (4) than awards (2). The organisers will regret this.

Commercial break. I hope my neighbours don’t work out I’m watching this. As far as they know I only listen to Shearwater and krautrock. I’ll never live it down.

The Mastercard trails inadvertently give the lie to the state of the industry when pissed up karaoke efforts from members of the public are comfortably on a par with the ‘pros’ suspiciously often. Ah, but can they also do backflips like that one who looks like he's missing a chromosome from JLS? (Actually, thinking about it, that description doesn't help round it down.) If not, NO RECORD DEAL.

20:36 Best British Single, voted for by that most responsible of publics, the Great British. Simon Webbe from passé Eurovision boy-band Blue rocks up to present the award. He’s going by the name Tinie Tempah now. Not sure what that’s all about…

Tinie Tempah says “bloody hell” and it’s pre-watershed. He can fuck off.

ONE DIRECTION win. I can’t even remember the name of their song, distracted by what fundamentally amounts to five walking haircuts. That lad shagging that lass old enough to be his mam looks like an absolute bellend in a bow-tie. Panic starts to set in as it looks likely at one point that all five of them will have a speech to make. The organisers will regret this. I temporarily warm to Corden as he steps in to stop the madness.

These few seconds a year is pretty much the only time I’m exposed to the sort of songs nominated here, but they still seem genetically engineered to cause me an unusual amount of pain and unearthly suffering which easily lasts until the next BRITs. I can’t work out who my favourite One Direction member is. I think it’s the one who looks like a piece of toast. Yeah. It is.

20:39 Jenson Button offers the most random bang for your buck so far tonight by being the bizarre choice of presenter for Best International Female.

When did YOU last win something Jenson? "The winner is... ME!" *runs off cackling* An overwhelming crowd reaction for actual music’s Feist there during the nominations. You could hear the collective shrugging of shoulders, so now at least we know what that sounds like.

Button delivers the award with less personality than one of the motors that he drives. RIHANNA’s plunging neckline wins for the second year on the bounce. Kind of obvious considering she was the only nominee present and on the live bill. Just sayin’…

Bless Rihanna: “Cheers to everyone for shittily peddling my shit and little shitty people for using your shitty money to buy my shit”. I’m making myself dizzy with the reflexive eye rolling during her speech.

20:42 Ed Sheeran’s vignette for his best album nomination, ‘+’. Somehow he manages to look more ginger on the album’s cover. Clips are shown of the ‘Lego House’ video with Rupert Grint of Harry Potter ginger sidekick fame – it’s as if some sort of high council had been called…

20:44 Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds perform and proceed to bore the shit out of me. I’m convinced that this is at least 57% due to Coldplay’s Chris Martin guesting on keyboards.

Alright Noel, please just say something outrageous and not actually sing.

20:53 An Amy Winehouse tribute in the same mould as the earlier Houston montage. Corden struggles to do sincere.

20:54 The award for Best British Male is presented by an intoxicated Plan B, whose patter is shite as he struggles to remember what year it is.

Jesus. Plan A must’ve been fucking unconscionably appalling. Yeah, the number of the year goes up by one at the start of a new one mate. Plan B unfortunately and inadvertently says more about the state of the British music industry in a 15 second introduction speech (and that’s a liberal use of the term) than the whole evening's meticulously planned, glitzy show does.

My mind wanders as I try to understand why Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds are considered a solo artist rather than a band.

ED SHEERAN wins the award. Now re-suited, it’s clear why he wished to remain in his civvies for as long as possible. Not a good look.

“I honestly didn’t think I’d get this one” waffles Sheeran. Meaning that you do think you’ll win the others? You arrogant shit.

He’s like a fox you hit on a country road late at night but don’t quite kill and have to go and finish off with the jack.

(Jesus.)

20:57 Renowned media whores Huey from the Fun Lovin’ Criminals and Jo Whiley present the Best British Group award to COLDPLAY. ‘Supported’ by Radio 2 listeners, this award was never going to go anywhere other than to Chris Martin and his band of merry men. The camera cuts to the boys from Elbow, and I kind of want a fight to ensue. Not because I think they deserved the award, but because I fancy Guy Garvey could cause some damage with those whiskers. Useful for grouting, I imagine…

Who are this Coldplay band? How long before Chris Martin says something that’s meant to be endearing but is actually trite? Let’s keep count, shall we? … I make that 6 seconds.

Eff this noise, Big Fat Gypsy Weddings is on. Will catch up later.

21:00 A quick cutaway shot reveals that IS Sid Owen!

21:01 Best British Album vignette for PJ Harvey’s ‘Let England Shake’. Definitely the odd-one-out here.

PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEJAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! I wish she’d stop being so reasonable, intelligent, and articulate. That sort of thing has no place at the BRITs. How can we redress the balance? Here’s Kylie!

I can see the pain behind her eyes each time she smiles…

21:04 Adele performs ‘Rolling in the Deep’. She’s been head and shoulders above the rest so far, and that’s a terrific backhanded compliment.

I can’t shake that ‘Rolling in the Deep’ sounds just like ‘Gimme Shelter’ by the Stones. I await that Glee mash-up with fervent vigour…

21:11 Best International Band presented by Brian May and Roger Taylor. Roger’s not bothered. He’s not even taken his coat off. Angie Dickinson’s let herself go, too.

The issue here continues to be that Taylor and May will do ANYTHING for publicity/money. Respec’ to John Deacon for keeping the hell away.

The FOO FIGHTERS win. Are we supposed to believe this is the best the rest of the planet - put together - has to offer?

When Maroon 5 are nominated, we should be thankful for small mercies. At least the Foos have the sense to stay away.

21:14 FC Barcelona’s Cesc Fabregas (why? has he got an EP out?) and a Pussycat Doll - the one that was only slightly less of a glorified pole dancer than the others - present the award for British Breakthrough Artist.

Cesc declares the winner to be “HEAD SHEARIN.”

It’s ED. Again. You see, we need to make him a star to perpetuate the myth that the internet is somehow vital in discovering new talent; anyone can be a star, and it’s not at all to do with faceless marketing men and overwhelming multinational conglomerates.

21:17 A performance from 2012’s Best International Male. My mind starts to wander and I begin to believe that Bruno Mars must have a vagina. I finally decide that's maybe unrealistic, but he at least definitely has a smooth plastic nubbin like a Ken doll. That’s a fact.

21:22 Corden tells us that “[Florence’s album is] full of intelligence and imagination.” For once, tubs is right. However, it's the same intelligence and imagination that Kate Bush did better first time around 20 years ago. Cue a Best British album vignette.

I honestly did not realise that this album had been released. No doubt Jo Whiley thinks it ‘seminal’.

21:23 Corden sits down with One Direction and lists the places where their album is number 1 – the tissue thin quality/quantity argument cropping up again. Interestingly, the list correlates strongly with those countries which have particularly strong sex tourism industries.

21:29 The award for International Breakthrough Act presented by Bry.i.am (Wyclef Jean Black Eyed Pea and comic Rob Brydon). This unlikely duo should be good value here... oh. Well you can’t have everything.

Wow, I actually quite like 2 of the bands here (Bon Iver and Foster the People). I'm worried as I actually get interested for a second.

LANA DEL REY wins it. As long as she doesn’t sing, everything will be fine. Voiceover lady tells us Del Rey apparently likes to refer to herself as “the gangster Nancy Sinatra”. Must they insist on reading out the press releases? I’m surprised that in a room of consisting of industry professionals there’s not an avalanche of laughter. Then again, no-one there from the industry seems to be actually paying any attention. Things perk up when it looks like Lana (animal name Llama Del Rey) might actually cry. YES! NO! Tease. She obviously changed tack having realised that true sentiment has no place at the Brits, and rightly so.

Given her lineage, is “the gangster Nancy Sinatra” not, well, Nancy Sinatra?

You know what really grinds my gears here? 12^th January 2012: Lana Del Rey, nominated for BRITs 2012 International Breakthrough. 30^th January 2012: Lana Del Rey releases debut album in UK. How does that work?

21:31 Hilarity ensues once more when Simon Cowell signee and Tinie Tempah botherer Labrinth (why no ‘Y’?) walks across Corden’s link spot. It was funnier when it was a random suit. And when it clearly wasn’t a deliberate exposure ploy. A quick search puts this guy’s age at 22.

Tough Paper Round

21:32 Rihanna performs ‘We Found Love’. Coincidentally, these are pretty much the only words I can decipher. Enunciation is clearly no longer a key competency in pop. Tina Turner wigs and paint chucking is where it’s at.

Josh Wink’s spinning in his grave, but at least she’s putting a show on. OK, I admit that this has its moments, even if only for being a spectacle. This despite clearly knowing that Rihanna’s music is some kind of horrible cipher heralding the apocalypse.

21:36 Outstanding Contribution to Music award goes to BLUR, which we knew anyway. I’m totally confused, partly because the presenting Ray Winstone is on the TV and isn’t trying to get me to lay a fiver down on Torres next to score at 4/1 (no chance, football fans).

Cockney gives award to mockneys. I like the way Ray was able to up the ante on London shout-outs by specifying SOUTH London.

21:41 Damon thanks Parlophone “when they had a tea lady.” And that bloke (Chris Morrison) who no-one, including industry ‘professionals’, seems to have heard of. He once saw Bob Dylan. The suits go “who?”

Albarn witters on for three minutes. The organisers will regret this…..

21:44 Final film for British Album of the Year is for Coldplay’s ‘Mylo Xyloto’. Chris Martin claims that this is the most fun they have had recording an album. God forbid how dull the previous four were. Quote of the night from drummer Will Champion:

“…we have to try and do something different. Maybe not, kind of, groundshakingly different…"

21:48 Jessie J does a little MasterCard tag ad at the end of the commercial break. Someone should punch her in the box and then be given an honorary BRIT for life.

21:49 Here we are, it’s all been building up to this - the MasterCard British Album of the Year. George Michael takes to the stage to present the award as the chorus from ‘Faith’ plays. Bet he’s delighted with that. He’s looking well, not sounding great.

Poor George Michaels. I didn’t realise he’d gone blind, but at least he’s had the good sense to turn up pissed. He tells us he lives a little way up the road, apparently, and looks like he got lost on his way out dogging. I’m assuming he didn’t drive down as there’s no reports of Snappy Snaps being hit.

ADELE fulfils all prophecies and takes the award for ‘21’.

Voiceover lady informs me that one Adele album was bought every 6 and a half seconds last year. Wow.

And so to the night’s talking point as Corden cuts Adele short to introduce Blur. Fingergate.

Feel quite sorry for Adele. What would you do in her situation? Thankfully we are left in no doubt that THE ADVERTISERS ARE IN CONTROL HERE.

Make no mistake, this is an almighty cock-up. Biggest award of the night, and the winner is denied their moment. The thing is, this is so easy to fix for nominees, winners, fans and advertisers alike - schedule the show for ten extra minutes, and if everything runs smoothly and time is left over, run more adverts. No? Anybody?

21:53 Blur close the show with ‘Girls & Boys, ‘Song 2’ and ‘Parklife’.

Two of which are their two worst songs, also known as their two most famous songs. Is that the first time a lifetime achievement award winner has been booed as they take to the stage? The crowd reaction is lukewarm, to say the least, and I can’t see Blur winning them back here, either. This brings me neatly to my problem with this band, which is that of warmth, essentially. I always got the distinct feeling that their oeuvre rang hollow, relying on cosy stereotypes, either that or the band were mocking and superior. Their records never felt like a genuine celebration of being British – not everything has to be ironic. I mean, isn’t 'Girls and Boys' a condemnation of promiscuity, but marketed to exactly those who indulge in it? (Alan Carr loves it judging by his dancing.) They’re either taking the piss out of those who made them and not moving on from that market, or they’re not nearly as arch and clever as they think they are.

21:59 Phil Daniels shouts “Oi!” - didn’t see that coming. He decides to shout his spoken word part for the duration of ‘Parklife’.

22:00 on the nose, and Albarn has only cheekily chimed “Parklife!” once. The News at Ten crowd are gonna be pissed…

22:02 Should Damon Albarn really be jumping up and down like this? He’s 44 ffs. The show ends two minutes over time, with Blur still mid-song…

Underwhelmed.

So, the BRIT Awards 2012 draw to a close. How do we sum it up? Radio presenter Danny Baker hit the nail right on the head with the following piece of Twitter wisdom:

"The Brits. God love it but what a shrill vacuous gurning corporate teat sucking faux anarchic artistically bankrupt cattle trough it is."

Well said sir! It doesn’t have either the class or distinction offered by the Grammys. But it’s ours. And we love to hate it.