By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
By the time Usher Raymond appeared before a horde of journalists, photographers, videographers, and city officials during a press conference announcing the MTV Video Music Awards nominees outside the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, the morning sun had risen completely into the sky, threatening to scorch the gathering beneath it. But the man with the biggest-selling album of the year, the multiplatinum Confessions, didn't look as if he was breaking a sweat. "Miami will be the light of life," said Usher in a smooth voice, his platinum cross dangling from his neck. "It's like my home away from home."
Until Usher had walked onto a small, makeshift podium to announce nominees for three of the nineteen award categories, the only thing remarkable about this hot and humid July morning was how uncomfortable everyone felt. The press conference started nearly an hour late; a spokesperson for MTV was overheard explaining to someone, "We're still waiting for the talent." As several representatives for Miami-Dade County Mayor Alex Penelas and City of Miami Mayor Manny Diaz stalked the small area, hapless photographers and reporters busied themselves by networking and attacking a buffet table stocked with croissants and coffee. Everyone was trying to keep in motion on a breezeless summer day, but even the coolest personages began sweating by the time the speakers took to the podium.
On stage, Penelas and Diaz were joined by MTV president Van Toffler and Dave Sirulnick, executive producer for the 2004 VMA broadcast. Both Penelas and Diaz spoke ornately, trumpeting their triumphant joint bid to lure the VMA from its usual home in New York City as the Big Apple hunkers down for a potentially calamitous 2004 Republican National Convention. "If I am the MTV mayor, then Miami is the MTV city," remarked Diaz, who was wearing a black MTV jersey over his shirt and tie.
While the assembled media tolerated the quartet's pleasantries, their spirits lifted remarkably once Usher took the stage. It was further proof of the alchemical power celebrities exert over ordinary Americans. When he introduced nominees in categories such as "Best Dance Video," the journalists actually whooped and cheered, happily abandoning their roles as objective observers. "I'm taking the time to tell you that we're going to make history," he said, smiling.
Unfortunately, there's only so much quality time we mere mortals are allowed to spend among the stars. After the diminutive Missy Elliott ("She's so cute!" a TV reporter was overheard gushing to her friend), dressed in fatigues and a platinum dog tag, walked out to announce the nominees for two more categories, it was all over. Everyone descended upon the podium to take pictures, and Usher and Elliott posed with the Miami and MTV officials.
The only odd note in this most ephemeral of photo opportunities was when Usher, unprompted by a journalist, began remarking how different this year has been for him. "It's good that [MTV] is finally paying attention," he said, his voice barely heard among the feeding frenzy. "They ignored me for so long."
What was Usher talking about? A bit of explanation may be required. A 25-year-old native of Atlanta, Usher is a scion of the hugely successful R&B and hip-hop industry (think Lil' Jon and OutKast) that has developed there over the past decade.
Discovered by an executive of LaFace (a now-defunct boutique label formed by hitmaking producers Antonio "L.A." Reid and Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds) when he was a mere ötween, he recorded his 1994 self-titled debut album when he was just fourteen; the album featured P. Diddy as an executive producer. His next album, 1997's My Way, made him a star, launching singles such as the simmering number one Billboard smash "Nice and Slow." The next album, 2001's 8701, repeated My Way's success, leading to this year's five-times platinum Confessions and its three number one hits, "Yeah!" a dance-pop number produced by Lil' Jon and featuring snarky MC Ludacris; "Confessions Pt. 2," on which he stresses over impregnating a woman who isn't his girlfriend; and the breakup ballad "Let It Burn."
The day after his appearance at the MTV press conference, Usher conducted an afternoon teleconference with dozens of journalists for publications ranging from august newspapers such as the Chicago Sun-Times (Jim DeRogatis), to alt-weeklies such as the Dallas Observer (Sarah Hepola), and even relatively small "entertainment" özines such as Atlanta's Rolling Out (Andrea Mitchell). Each reporter is allowed to ask one question, but there are so many of us that we don't even make it through the round robin session before the hour-long interview is summarily cut off by Usher's manager.
By the time this happened, unfortunately, the conversation had devolved into another stinging indictment of the lowly state of entertainment journalism, a sycophantic orgy on par with the MTV press conference of a day earlier. Instead of questioning Usher about relatively interesting topics, such as the controversy surrounding his "Confessions" remix with rapper Joe Budden (on which the latter said, "Pray that she abort that if she's talkin' about keepin' it/One hit to the stomach, she's leakin' it"), most content themselves with kittenish queries about his tour diet and any "advice he wants to give to teens right now."