Why the realness at the 2015 VMAs signals the rise of the transparent, emotional pop star
When Justin Bieber cried after his medley of “Where Are You Now?” and “What Do You Mean?” he was all of us.
Not because we were moved or because we could feel God in this Chili’s tonight, but because via his tear ducts, Bieber confirmed that for the first time since Kanye and T-Swift’s infamous 2009 encounter, that this year’s VMAs had a kernel of legitimacy; that Nicki Minaj’s remarks to host/pot enthusiast Miley Cyrus weren’t a one-off, and that Kanye had been right the whole time.
After all, Justin Bieber’s tears weren’t staged. Nobody plans a meltdown in front of millions of people (unless you’ve won an Oscar), which proved that Justin Bieber had begun caring so much that he stopped caring at all. In fact, he had transcended fear, and grew stronger and more emotional because of it. He was the Natalie Portman of the V For Vendetta-like gong show. And Nicki Minaj was his V.
What would have happened if Nicki Minaj had accepted her award for Best Hip-Hop Video quietly, politely acknowledging Rebel Wilson’s weird bit about police strippers, and ignoring the fact that just a few days ago, Miley Cyrus had described Nicki Minaj’s earlier comments about Taylor Swift and VMA whitewashing as “very Nicki” because “Nicki Minaj is not too kind.” What would have happened if Miley had joined Taylor Swift and Nicki Minaj onstage for “Bad Blood”? Or if Nicki hadn’t won for “Anaconda” at all?
Thank the moonmen, we didn’t have to find out. Instead, Nicki Minaj obliterated the rehearsed spontaneity that defines award shows by refusing Miley Cyrus’ lust for sensationalism and calling her out the way anybody would (or should) following tone-deaf derogatory remarks. It was a “What’s good, Miley?” heard around the world, and it was the equivalent of walking into an air conditioned building after riding across the desert ala Mad Max. You never know how much you need a breath of fresh air until you finally get one.
And then came Bieber. And Kanye. But not Kanye West in the “Winner of the Vanguard Award” sense, but Kanye, sitting at the VMAs with his wife, Kim Kardashian, who joined him in laughing, chatting, and “yes and”–ing him when he was so bored by the ceremony that he pretended to fall asleep. Which actually matters: for years—as pointed out by Kanye himself—MTV has made a point of painting the rapper as a villain, or for crucifying his zest for emotional displays because emotion takes courage, and Kanye has lots. This year, minutes before accepting the equivalent of a lifetime achievment trophy, Kanye just did what Kanye felt like: he gave into his feelings of boredom/disinterest by treating the broadcast the same way we were. He was, if Bart Simpson were to describe it, doing what he felt like.
Which is why we needed his acceptance speech to reflect what we realized was our thirst for feels. As Taylor Swift stood smiling and side-hugging a tense-slash-”do not touch me”-looking Kim Kardashian, Kanye put MTV on blast for using his 2009 act-out as click and viewer bait. He defended artists, their work, and award shows in general (“bro”), and then declared his intention to run for office in 2020. He caught feels, and gave us feels, and made Bieber and Minaj his partners in feels. Their real emotions incited real reactions in us, re-affirming that while showmanship is an art in itself, we still need to know somebody cares.
After all this, the rest of the show felt flat. ASAP Rocky performed, Miley Cyrus said she wasn’t going to vote for Trump, but instead Kanye (which I’m not even going to begin to get into), and then, after miming what it would be like to breastfeed from Kim Kardashian, she took to the stage to declare, “Yeah, I smoke pot.”
And like, who cares? Because she obviously does not. She may about attention and the causes she chooses to discuss seriously in interviews and editorials, but to sing about the merits of weed to an audience who’s been familiar since middle or high school seemed just as “real” as her reaction to Nicki’s choice words.
I kid: her reaction was real. And had Miley stopped twisting her dreads to take accountability or listen, that would’ve been all the realness she needed for us to catch feels from her, too.
, which proved that Justin Bieber had begun caring so much that he stopped caring at all. In fact, he had transcended fear, and grew stronger and more emotional because of it. He was the Natalie Portman of the V For Vendetta-like gong show. And Nicki Minaj was his V.
What would have happened if Nicki Minaj had accepted her award for Best Hip-Hop Video quietly, politely acknowledging Rebel Wilson’s weird bit about police strippers, and ignoring the fact that just a few days ago, Miley Cyrus had described Nicki Minaj’s earlier comments about Taylor Swift and VMA whitewashing as “very Nicki” because “Nicki Minaj is not too kind.” What would have happened if Miley had joined Taylor Swift and Nicki Minaj onstage for “Bad Blood”? Or if Nicki hadn’t won for “Anaconda” at all?
Thank the moonmen, we didn’t have to find out. Instead, Nicki Minaj obliterated the rehearsed spontaneity that defines award shows by refusing Miley Cyrus’ lust for sensationalism and calling her out the way anybody would (or should) following tone-deaf derogatory remarks. It was a “What’s good, Miley?” heard around the world, and it was the equivalent of walking into an air conditioned building after riding across the desert ala Mad Max. You never know how much you need a breath of fresh air until you finally get one.
And then came Bieber. And Kanye. But not Kanye West in the "Winner of the Vanguard Award" sense, but Kanye, sitting at the VMAs with his wife, Kim Kardashian, who joined him in laughing, chatting, and “yes and”--ing him when he was so bored by the ceremony that he pretended to fall asleep. Which actually matters: for years---as pointed out by Kanye himself---MTV has made a point of painting the rapper as a villain, or for crucifying his zest for emotional displays because emotion takes courage, and Kanye has lots. This year, minutes before accepting the equivalent of a lifetime achievment trophy, Kanye just did what Kanye felt like: he gave into his feelings of boredom/disinterest by treating the broadcast the same way we were. He was, if Bart Simpson were to describe it, doing what he felt like.
Which is why we needed his acceptance speech to reflect what we realized was our thirst for feels. As Taylor Swift stood smiling and side-hugging a tense-slash-”do not touch me”-looking Kim Kardashian, Kanye put MTV on blast for using his 2009 act-out as click and viewer bait. He defended artists, their work, and award shows in general (“bro”), and then declared his intention to run for office in 2020. He caught feels, and gave us feels, and made Bieber and Minaj his partners in feels. Their real emotions incited real reactions in us, re-affirming that while showmanship is an art in itself, we still need to know somebody cares.
After all this, the rest of the show felt flat. ASAP Rocky performed, Miley Cyrus said she wasn’t going to vote for Trump, but instead Kanye (which I’m not even going to begin to get into), and then, after miming what it would be like to breastfeed from Kim Kardashian, she took to the stage to declare, “Yeah, I smoke pot.”
And like, who cares? Because she obviously does not. She may about attention and the causes she chooses to discuss seriously in interviews and editorials, but to sing about the merits of weed to an audience who’s been familiar since middle or high school seemed just as “real” as her reaction to Nicki’s choice words.
I kid: her reaction was real. And had Miley stopped twisting her dreads to take accountability or listen, that would’ve been all the realness she needed for us to catch feels from her, too.){kind=link}
