Grammys: For the record

Having reached the stage at which very few albums, however best-selling and/or critically acclaimed, are for me, I have, as they say, very few dogs in this fight.

Looking at the leading contenders...

Justin Timberlake is, at best, overrated. John Mayer seems to have a good sense of humor about himself and more power to him, but his music remains for people who thought Hootie & the Blowfish had just too much substance.

I still know nothing about Carrie Underwood, beyond having observed that she is much like a dead ringer for Mary Stuart Masterson of Benny & Joon fame.

I don't dislike most of the nominees, they just don't mean very much to me. With the exception of the nearly-perfect Dixie Chicks, of course. I will, however, be hoping that Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" wins a couple of its categories. Is it me or is that whole thing nothing but hooks?

And of course I'm psyched for the Police reunion. The last time they performed together was in 2003 when they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I watched that performance from smack dab in the middle of the intolerable Tennessee.

I remember thinking that unlike some reunited bands who seem to strain trying to remember what they used to do, the Police could have gone back on tour the next day. It took four more years, but...

(As an aside: I read Sting's book, Broken Music recently. It's all right but Andy Summers' One Train Later memoir is actually much better. Surprisingly, because although I knew he was one of the best guitarists around, I never put too much stock in his being able to put words together.

Those of you who wonder why are directed to the childish doggerel monologue in "Be My Girl-Sally" and the unlistenable "Mother." He got better.)