Teddy Morgan Is Easy on the Ears

So Columbia/Legacy sends me this new collection, THE ULTIMATE GRAMMY BOX, and all I can do is wonder what sequencing genius elected to put Vladimir Horowitz next to Stevie Wonder, Louis Armstrong next to Celine Dion, Duke Ellington next to Billy Joel, Patsy Cline next to Yo-Yo Ma . . . you get the picture. I'm all for decimating the rancid genre pigeonholing that infects the music world like a pernicious ass cancer, but this is a mite ridiculous. The Grammy Awards, of course, are completely irrelevant, but this collection still has a lot of great music on it and might have made an interesting four-disc set if someone had elected to organize it . . . somehow? By dates, perhaps? As it is, this box set makes no sense at all and comes at you like a spastic musical assault rather than as a serious attempt to legitimize the Grammys' importance, or even bestow any perspective on them. And any cretinous programming executive who expects me to listen to Woody Guthrie next to Michael Fucking Bolton ought to be demoted back to a stock boy, following a high colonic with aerosol cheese.