The last time I went to the Junos - to this point, the only time I went to the Junos - was 14 years ago. I recall being pretty excited at the time, which in hindsight only makes it more embarrassing.
It was the year of the massive Bryan Adams/Tom Cochrane showdown, and you had to be in one of the two camps. For some reason I was decidedly a Cochrane man, and jumped out of my chair when Mad Mad World took album of the year - his fourth trophy to Adams' two. I also remember laughing at Rick Moranis' jokes, blushing as Love and Sas (the Canadian equivalent of Salt 'n' Pepa) flirted with me, gawking as Alannah Myles raced through the lobby fleeing imaginary paparazzi and being moderately taken with Alanis during her dance-queen phase. All in all, not my proudest night.
Somewhere along the way, my tastes became a little more refined. Or at least, I grew up and stopped relying on commercial radio. Either way, I'm now obligated to bemoan the calibre of nominees for this year's edition - which is sort of like shooting quail on a quail farm.
Sadly, there is no Adams/ Cochrane-style smackdown this year. But there is Nickelback. Lots and lots of Nickelback.
There are two types of people in and around the music industry - those who turn up their noses at Hanna, Alta.'s finest, and those who have some commercial stake in them. Nevertheless, there they are again, leading the pack with six nominations.
Their competition comes mostly from the usual suspects. Our Lady Peace. Michael Buble. Canadian Idol alumni. Theory of a Deadman, which is more or less Nickelback lite. And, inexplicably, the Barenaked Ladies, who somehow garnered a group of the year nomination despite not actually doing much of anything in '05.
With the very odd exception, I don't know anybody who listens to any of these people. Certainly, I don't know anyone who thinks they were the standouts of 2005. And as for Nickelback, even the DJs on 102.1 The Edge - the Toronto station that's done as much to promote them as anyone - are openly contemptuous toward Chad Kroeger whenever they subject their listeners to his ruminations on the merits of pants around the feet.
Clearly, though, we're in the minority. Just as Adams and Cochrane had far more national resonance than, say, Sloan back in '92, Nickelback is exponentially more popular nationwide than any of the indie acts getting most of the good press. Broken Social Scene, Metric or Wolf Parade may be getting play at trendy cafes, but it's Kroeger blasting out of the speakers nearly everywhere else.
The Junos, perhaps to their credit, generally speak to populist tastes rather than snooty urban ones. But where things get interesting is in the gradual invasion of acts that fare better with critics than the record-buying public. Look closely at this year's nominations, and it's evident the barbarians are at the gate. Or vice versa, I guess - the barbarians on the inside looking out in horror at the pale, skinny indie rockers.
That crowd is now occasionally sneaking into a few of the major categories - Feist and k-os (not indie and not a rocker, but a critical fave) in the single of the year category, and Martha Wainwright making a play for new artist. But what we're mostly seeing is a sort of parallel awards show for the indie acts. While Nickelback and Buble are fighting for the biggies, the alternative album and songwriter of the year are the scene for critical darlings to duke it out.
To some extent, it's ever been thus - especially in the "alternative" category, a sort of dumping ground for everyone the Junos don't quite know what to do with. But with the recent celebrity of Arcade Fire et al., those categories are starting to receive more attention. Tellingly, the Junos went out of their way yesterday to highlight the Arcade Fire's three nominations - a bone thrown to the music snobs.
The irony is that none of those people are going to watch the Junos. Somewhere, there's a 14-year-old who'll go nuts if Simple Plan upsets Nickelback. Probably safest to keep playing to him.
