The spain event

“AAAAAAIIIIIIIII!!!” “ EEEEKKKKK!!!” “AAAARRRRRRHHHH!!!!!”

It’s not particularly unusual for mobs of pretty young women to be screaming hysterically and getting themselves wet at an occasion like the MTV Europe Music Awards – in fact, something would be seriously wrong if they weren’t – but this is a different kind of screaming and definitely the wrong kind of getting wet.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain but tonight it’s also falling on the hills of Barcelona, and outside the impressive Palau Sant Jordi Olympic stadium a steady drizzle is fast ruining the hairdos, make-up and carefully chosen outfits of scores of visibly distressed females. Not to mention completely scuppering their chances of gaining entrance into host Sean ‘P Diddy’ Combs’ aftershow (apparently Puffy’s quite particular about the appearance of his party guests).

Inside it’s drier in more ways than one, with the ridiculously lengthy queues for the bar moving at roughly the same speed Kevin Shields produces new albums.

While waiting to get served, I miss both host P Diddy’s grand entrance and the sight of Pamela Anderson and Wyclef Jean presenting the first award of the night. The award was for Best Group but you could’ve been forgiven for thinking it was Best Grope. I couldn’t actually see it, but when I heard Wyclef telling Anderson that, “You have the two most talented things I have ever seen in my life,” I knew he wasn’t talking about her children. The gong went to Linkin Park, who beat off competition from U2, the Chili Peppers, Coldplay and No Doubt, proving that 13 million MTV viewers (apparently the number of people who texted their votes in) can actually get it wrong.

By the time I’ve waltzed my tray of beers Manuel-style through the throng, Norwegian act Royksopp have played, Jade Jagger has presented Alicia Keys with the Best R’n’B award and the redoubtable Pink has performed a medley of her hits. My seat, when I find it, is so far from the front of the house, there’s a stall selling high-powered binoculars (€60) right behind me.

And there’s certainly no shortage of talent to gawp at. Holly Valance and Sophie Ellis Bextor present a delighted Kylie with the Best Pop gong and an adbreak later – Vodafone, Foot Locker, D&G etc. – Puff Daddy introduces a man he describes as his main competitor for Public enemy No 1 in the United states. Yep, it’s young Marshall . . .

“BARCELONA – MAKE SOME NOISE, YEAH!” the diminutive Detroit rapper commands as he shuffles out onto the stage with beams of streaming white light behind him, and the crowd duly obliges as he performs a somewhat lacklustre version of ‘Cleaning Out My Closet’ and then, joined by his crew, a much more upbeat ‘Lose Yourself’. He’s good, just not great. But then, he’s probably not even fully warmed up before he’s finished.

He’s barely off the stage before Pierce Brosnan is calling him back to pick up his award for Best Male Performer. “I wasn’t ready yet,” Eminem sulks as a clearly unimpressed 007 hands him the gong and takes a step back. He thanks Dre, Interscope Records, his whole hip-hop posse and manager Paul Rosenberg, and declares his undying love for his daughter (“Haile I love you!”), before disappearing again.

Ronan Keating, who hosted the event in Dublin a couple of years ago, comes out with a local model to present the Best Live Act and, having been unconvincingly fooled into declaring in Spanish that he likes to wear ladies underwear, he somewhat controversially diverts from the script to declare, “I know who the winner should be, but I don’t know if they’ve won.” And they haven’t. The Red Hot Chili Peppers steal the award from under U2’s noses and then don’t even bother showing up to collect it – instead expressing their gratitude through a hilarious video broadcast (with Anthony Kiedis stuffing the rather wobbly trophy down his trousers).

P Diddy returns in yet another new costume and, having stagedived into the crowd, introduces what turns out to be the most rock & roll moment of the evening – the Foo Fighters performing an absolutely blistering version of ‘All My Life’. The venue’s so vast and cavernous it’s hard for any act to make a serious impression but somehow Dave Grohl (looking resplendently schoolboy-ish in white shirt and tie) and his cohorts manage to get the place moving. Tonight they play as hard as Nirvana ever did, Grohl’s wail is eerily reminiscent of Cobain’s and, within four minutes, I’m suddenly a Foo Fighters fan. Doubtless they’ll reap the rewards of a superb performance in album sales over the coming weeks.

The Foos are a tough act for anyone to follow, and it’s all downhill from here really, but there are still a few choice moments amidst the self-congratulatory dross. Nick Carter and Rachel Roberts present Moby with the Best Website Award (denying U2 once again) and having accepted the gong with a well-received speech in Spanish, the singer nervously makes his peace with Eninem.

“The last time I was at a VMA I had a little, em, problem with Eminem,” he says, before stressing that he’s holding no grudges and wishing the rapper a very long and happy life. (I thought it was a nice gesture until I ran into Moby at the airport the following day, and he explained that Eminem was hanging with a very rough, Vicadon-addled crew backstage, and the baldy one was actually in fear of his life).

The rest of the evening is all a bit of a blur – albeit a rather slow moving one, punctuated by lots of back-slapping, self-promotion and lousily scripted wooden dialogue from the guest presenters. The gorgeous Christiana Aguilera gets down and ‘Dirrty’ in the most revealing – and uncomfortable-looking! – outfit of the night, P-Diddy embarrassingly raises a toast to world peace and Jennifer Lopez accepts her Best Female award via video (obviously deciding that she’d rather not share a stage with her ex-boyfriend). Bon Jovi and Enrique do their safety dances, P Diddy changes his clothes again, and Kylie does her best to sound surprised when she picks up a second award for Best Dance (we already knew she’d won it, so why didn’t she?)

The Calling take Best New Act, a live performance from Coldplay rocks almost as much as the Foos, and Marilyn Manson rightly points out that the stage closely resembles “a giant tongue and some Q-Tips” (though he fails to point out that the backdrop looks suspiciously like the Vodafone logo) P-Diddy’s cruel pisstake on Winona Ryder deservedly goes down like a lead balloon, Eminem returns to beat him for the Best Hip Hop award, repeating his earlier speech (and not mentioning Moby) and cheekily flashing his bare ass as he walks offstage.

A suspiciously skinny Whitney manages not to fall off some precarious-looking stairs as she performs her instantly forgettable new single and, having congratulated Robbie Williams on his recent megadeal, our host informs him that, “Now you can join the P Diddy club and really live the life, baby!” (Hmmm…) For his part, Williams performs ‘Feel’ with, em, feeling, before jokingly jigging off the stage.

The Peppers express their thanks for their second award of the evening (Best Rock Act) via another funny video, and Eminem returns for a third (Best Album for The Eminem Show). Truly, it’s been his night but he still doesn’t seem overly excited – though he gives a slightly longer speech this time. Wyclef Jean performs with some flamenco dancers, P Diddy lamely bribes a girl from the crowd (yeah, right) to get naked with his pinky ring, and Moby – who’s obviously managed to avoid Eminem’s crew backstage – plays the night out with an energetic ‘Rock The Party’.

Whew! The whole thing has taken a little over three hours . . . of which only about thirty minutes could be described as compulsive viewing (and only the Foo’s four minutes truly electrified). So all in all, a well-produced television event, but more a celebration of corporate sponsorship than of music, and a bit of a drag if you were actually there. But then, I hadn’t really expected it to be any other way. It never is.