Tin Pan Carpet

During last year's Songwriter's Hall of Fame, the big deal was that Ray Charles had just died. This year, it's that Les Paul is still alive. You'd know that if you paid attention to Paul's long-standing Monday-night residency in Manhattan, of course. Others might be pretty surprised to see Paul receiving the Sammy Cahn Lifetime Achievement Award on his 90th birthday.

The old guy is also doing a fine job of negotiating the red carpet outside of the Marriott Marquis in Times Square. You don't take that for granted in what's usually the year's best salute to grand old men. But then, that's also changing. Someone recently got the bright idea to put the show on television, and suddenly there was some kind of lightweight quota.

To be fair, American Idol and its sappy offshoots have been a boon to professional songwriters. It's been a long time since Neil Sedaka has been treated like a big deal on national television. Legendary lyricist Hal David is quick to invoke the show when I finally find a polite way to ask what the hell Jason Mraz and Ryan Cabrera are doing here tonight.

That doesn't make the red carpet any more fun. The NYC market doesn't even have an oldies station anymore, and I'm standing next to an intern from Star. Despite their "Music First" mic attachment, the VH1 Radio folks seem more like staff who drew the short straw over at MTV headquarters. They'll be the only people I see consulting the publicist's tip sheet to find out about certain performers-and that includes a desperate scramble to look up Faith Evans.

I could do without witnessing how Jason Mraz requires absolutely no glam influence to still be the most fey person in rock. However, it isn't all losers on the carpet. Deborah Gibson, for example, is happy to turn her ass to the photographers. It's meaningless, since that Playboy shoot and the "Naked" single already fizzled out back in March. Still, Gibson comes across well in interviews. She's informed and enthused about her role in honoring Hall of Fame inductees Richard and Robert Sherman-writers of both great rock tunes and Disney classics.

Producer/songwriter/guitar god Steve Cropper is among the inductees, but he doesn't buy into my notion that his Stax heyday was the defining moment when black recording artists stole their music from the white man. Maybe it's a related moment when Isaac Hayes tells me that the weirdest cover version he ever heard of his work with David Porter was young Billy Joel covering "You've Got Me Hummin'" with the Hassles-"but" Hayes adds, "it was cool, you know."

Cropper also claims the night's biggest honor of having this year's trophy wife. He married a true Queen of the Rodeo, and she's a good dame, too. "I haven't been a trophy wife in 17 years," Mrs. Cropper laughs. "I've been too busy carrying his luggage and his guitar and having his babies." Forget Faith Evans-Steve Cropper's keeping it real!