THE WEBBYS Grandaddy War Memorial Opera House July 18, 2001 Photos The Webbys were not exactly something that we would have normally been interested in. A self-congratulatory awards show featuring all those people that made way more money than us during the golden months of the Dot Com Boom? Puh-leaze. We waited in line behind those folks in South Park for burritos. Listened to their inane conversations about Backflip and how much VC their founder nabbed in his first round of funding. Not that we were invited, mind you, but we weren't exactly sad about it, you dig? Then we found out that Grandaddy had agreed to perform. Suddenly we were interested in going. Very interested. The sheer surreality of our parka clad homies performing in an opera house was worth the price of admission. Nevermind the hilarity of us getting dressed to the nines for a Grandaddy gig. What started as a joke was suddenly a crusade. Infiltrate the yuppie event! Subvert the dominant paradign! Drink while wearing high heels! Funny thing was, we ended up having a wonderful time, even during the awards show itself. The Webbys were hosted, once again, by the Mr. Gorgeously Sassy and Scottish himself, Alan Cumming. You might know him from Cabaret, you might know him from The Spice Girls Movie, or you might not have known him at all, but there was no way you could've left the War Memorial without loving him. His lightning wit and comic timing made scripted dialogue seem extemporaneous and off-the-cuff commentary hilarious. After one winner gave an acceptance speech longer than the infamous five word limit, Cumming waited politely until the person left the stage before raising and eyebrow and murmuring in sing-song, "Someone doesn't know how to coooow-hount...". Between the speeches were other diversions like the modern dance routines featuring black lit performers in various futuristic setting. There were also sophisticated humor breaks, the best being a "VH-1 Behind the Music/Where Are They Now" spoof on the previous year's winner in the Personal category, CockyBastard.com. Somewhere along the line, there was this realization that we weren't outsiders to this culture, far from it. This award show wasn't about the Dotconomy That Spawned A Million Push Scooters, it was about the web itself. There wasn't a category we didn't have an opinion about, and very few nominees we didn't recognize. (Squid found herself beaming with pride as The Onion took the prize in the humour category. Daz was quite happy with a win for the incredible Craigslist.org.)The inside jokes weren't aimed at uber hip Marina kids, they were meant for geeks like us who spent as much time online as we did in Meat Space. Webbys founder Tiffany Shlain didn't mince any words in her opening comments when she pointed out that the nominees, (and the audience in general) were survivors making their websites work with a lot less money. Folks who made a home on the web long before the phrase 'cyber community' was a happy, AOL-engineered societal norm. In fact, it should be noted that for the first years of our friendship, we here at Playing in Fog spent never admitted in public that we met online unless forced to. It was something to be teased about, even as recently as 1996. "Speaking of the site", you ask, "what about Grandaddy?" Yeah, yeah, we're getting to that. Post-awards was drinking time. Once we learned that we couldn't take drinks onto the main floor where Grandaddy were performing, it escalated to Extremely Serious Speed Drinking Time. "Uhm, what can I slam two or three of?", Squid wondered allowed to Virgil. Four gin and tonics later, our happily sauced quartet (Squid, Daz, Virgil, and Jas) headed down onto the main floor of the performance hall to catch the moment of truth. There we were in this auditorium with gilt trim, cherubs and goddesses painted on the ceiling and red velvet curtains in the background. The band had already started playing, somehow managing casual aplomb in the midst of their opulent surroundings. As we predicted, many people were still in the atriums drinking, so consequently there were probably 50 people randomly scattered about, all looking at each other incredulously and praising their good luck. "Uh, don't people realize what the hell is going on in here?", marvelled Sheetal as she headed to the stage for a closer look. Luckily for all of us, many didn't. "Oh my god, this is like a private concert!", Jas giggled deviously as she and Daz grabbed their cameras and went to work. Grandaddy's constantly evolving projected visuals did a damn good job of competing with the scale of the event, as is evidenced in some of the excellent shots that Daz took that night. (One was so good that she ended up featuring it in her photo exhibit, "Shots in the Dark" a couple of weeks later.) Seeing Grandaddy in perform at the War Memorial was totally novel. Everything typically indie seemed isolated and surreal, particularly spirited audience interaction. After all, when's the last time you think some girl shouted out, "I LIKE TO LISTEN TO YOU GUYS WHEN I FUCK!"* at the first violinist during Madame Butterfly? Not recently, we'd wager. Nights with great big production value don't come along that often these days. The Webbys certainly gave us more than we bargained for, in every respect of the phrase. With any luck, we'll be invited back next year...as nominees. *Lytle's reply: (nervous laughter) "Uh, oh my god, that's so rad!" Webbys Grandaddy For a few more shots, check out Jasmine Jopling's pictures at www.sodachrome.com Be sure to also check out her wonderful photo of Alan Cumming Read our other Grandaddy reviews: July 19th, 2001, Justin Herman Plaza June 20th, 2001, The Warfield, opening for Coldplay April 1, 2001 Acousticfest, Lauren's Barn, Oakdale, California, where Grandaddy performed a short 5 song set. June 30th, 2000, The Warfield, opening for Yo La Tengo & November 13, 2000 opening for Elliot Smith October 8th, 2000, Unscrubbed, Slim's - Jason Lytle performs a solo set.