For those intuitive enough to opt for a bathroom break during Nicki Minaj's performance on the Grammys Sunday night, the debacle proceeded as follows: first, an attention-drawing red carpet debut as Minaj (clad in a bright red robe) sauntered into the building with a man dressed as the pope. This was followed by an instantly controversial performance of Minaj's song "Roman Holiday," complete with an ensemble of provocative back up dancers seducing the hired actors (masquerading as priests, alter boys, monks, and the like). Minaj also included a short film in which her character, Roman, is confronted by a Catholic priest attempting to rid her of her demon. The performance's chaotic peak unfolded as a church choir filed onstage to sing a beloved Christian hymn while a priest assisted Minaj in levitating above the stage as she screamed frantically in tongues. Sounds like a masterpiece, right?
The performance's resulting backlash might suggest differently. The Huffington Post quoted Catholic League President Bill Donohue saying: "It's bad enough that Catholics have to fight for their rights vis-a-vis a hostile administration in Washington without also having to fend off attacks in the entertainment industry." Truly the Minaj camp must have foreseen the inevitable repercussions of such an outlandish performance, so the question remains: Why?
Why the calculated jab at the Catholic community and, on a grander scale, the religious community at large? I ask all pop culture and music enthusiasts alike to remember the central purpose of the Grammys: to pit multimillion-dolla- engrossing musicians against each other in a competitive duel. Winner gets that shiny gold phonograph thing.
Minaj, as evidenced by her nomination for "Best New Artist," remains a relatively fresh face in the American pop music scene. Powerhouses such as Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Rihanna have earned their spots in this media hierarchy--oftentimes as a result of controversial live stunts akin to Minaj's. These tactics guided the poorly engineered, debauchery of a performance. I invite readers to recall Lady Gaga's video for "Alejandro" where she swallows a rosary in one of the opening scenes, or Rihanna's graphic song "S&M" released after her bout with domestic violence. Both artists’ strategies inspired massive hype and, in turn, appreciation for a certain courage to embrace taboos. As Loyola freshman Zach Everett tweeted that night: "If Gaga did the exact performance as Nicki y'all would dub it as art, amazing, and groundbreaking."
Zach is absolutely right. Minaj's sloppy performance was nothing more than a publicity stunt, an attempt to earn her spot next to her constituents in an overwhelmingly competitive industry. Minaj not only severely damaged her burgeoning career, she also left thousands offended, angered viewers in her wake. Perhaps Entertainment Weekly said it best: "It's a weird mess with no real message."
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