A boring rock show performed to a bored audience

The Brits are a triumph for the real Ms Dynamite of the British pop industry

I have spent a little time in recent months privately lobbying some of the organisers of the Brits and some record company bigwigs about the "special contribution" award, the one that went on Thursday night to Tom Jones. My suggestion, which clearly fell on deaf ears, was that Ray Davies of the Kinks should get it. Davies is one of the quintessential English songwriters of the last century, and his group had numerous hits in the Sixties and Seventies; but alone among his songwriting and performing peers – the likes of McCartney and Townshend – his achievement has not been recognised at the Brits.

Watching the show on television, I realised at once why the Brit people didn't consider him. This was a made-for-TV event, where everyone on screen had to be either present-day talent or "C" division TV celebrities giving out the awards, with the only oldies allowed being those who had current hits. Tom Jones has had considerable street cred since his rebirth at Glastonbury a few years ago. Before that, would he have received the special achievement award? I seriously doubt it. Ray Davies, no longer in fashion despite his massive influence on British pop music, could not be allowed on the screen. It would be as politically incorrect as suggesting Dire Straits.

The Brits is no longer an awards ceremony televised, it is a TV show with a glorified studio audience. The ceremony was once an amateurish evening of gaffes presided over by Jonathan King, now presumably producing amateur shows at Her Majesty's Pleasure. His successor, the redoubtable and highly personable Lisa Anderson, a former record company chief, has turned it into a very lucrative brand, a TV show beamed around the world, with related merchandise including CDs and magazines. Ms Anderson, largely unknown in the outside world, is the real Ms Dynamite of the British pop industry. And the Brits are her personal triumph.

But this year they went wrong, ironically enough, because of trying too hard to be right. There had been years of criticism of the corporate nature of the event, of tables of executives chomping on food and guzzling wine and chatting when they should be watching their charges on stage. But as Davina McCall tried ever more desperately to inject some excitement into Thursday's proceedings, I began to realise that it was the corporate nature of the event that gave the Brits its unique tension. Which acts could actually silence the corporates with their on-stage performance? I've been present over the years to see many do it. Travis had them all standing up and linking arms; Fleetwood Mac had them jigging about; the Spice Girls had them watching with worried interest, nervously recognising that this was a cash cow on the wane.

A rock show, which the Brits essentially is, is a tough thing to televise at the best of times. At the Brits, take away the unique spectacle and weird tension of the country's most exciting young acts performing to their middle-aged employers, and we are left with a rock show performed to a largely bored looking audience, unable to get drunk, not wild about even being there. And with few rock shows ever successfully televised, we saw again the problems of producers and cameramen unsure whether to focus on performers, audience or flashing lights and lasers (which look meaningless on the small screen).

A wonderful if unintentional commentary on the difficulty of making a TV show out of an awards ceremony-cum-rock concert and of conveying the excitement of a live event came when McCall ticked off a furious-looking audience member for talking on his mobile phone during the show. There, in an instant, was the confused state of rock 2003. Our mothers used to tell us off for watching allegedly foul-mouthed and sexually aggressive pop stars. Now a TV presenter reprimands a music industry man for talking on his mobile phone when he should be paying attention.

¿ Recently, I queried whether the National Theatre was the National Theatre of England or of Britain. You can search the NT's official material in vain for an answer, and previous directors have tended to avoid the question. However, Nicholas Hytner, the incoming director, has nailed his colours to the mast and given a definitive ruling. Sort of. He says: "I think we are the National Theatre of Britain. But I would be delighted to see a National Theatre of Scotland." He's a great theatre director, and would clearly also have made a great diplomat.

¿ The Beatles' monthly fan magazine, The Beatles Book, has ceased publication this month. That's a sentence that could have been written in 1969. In fact, it was, when the magazine ceased publication the first time. A decade later it reopened as interest in the group reawakened. Now it has closed again, with founding editor Johnny Dean explaining, with memorable simplicity, that as two of the Beatles are now dead, "there's not so much to write about these days".

d.lister@independent.co.uk