There is something wrong when studying for an upcoming psychology test is more stimulating than watching the Grammys. I cringe to think this might be “music’s biggest night.”

Throughout the three-and-a-half-hour ordeal, there were perhaps two or three moments when the events on the screen proved more intriguing than the learning processes of infants in my textbook. Yet I felt an obligation to keep watching, like the feeling you get at a younger sibling’s middle school talent show. This was essentially the same thing, except with brighter lights, slightly better sound systems and adults.

We have all heard the songs before and seen performances on various other television musical extravaganzas. Tunes from Maroon 5’s Songs About Jane have graced airwaves since the album’s release during the summer of 2002. John Mayer’s performance of “Daughters” was hardly a break from the music video. And I do not think I can handle seeing one more spastic performance from the Black Eyed Peas of “Let’s Get it Started,” though their winning for Best Rap Performance of this song makes it highly unlikely it will be laid to rest anytime soon.

It is a novel idea, indeed, but why not actually show more than bits and pieces of the awards part of the ceremony? If the insecure brilliance of Jack White standing next to the legendary confidence of Loretta Lynn was considered worthy of airtime by the academy, I can only imagine what other moments we all missed. Yes, her award was more than 30 years in the making and her feistiness, not stifled by age, provided some amusement. Though he’s not quite so aged, I have a sneaking suspicion Jon Stewart’s acceptance speech for Best Comedy Album just might have elicited a chuckle or two.

Of the 107 categories, television viewers saw the acceptance of little more than eight awards. The small scroll of winners’ names across the bottom of the screen was hardly a just substitute for the events of the ceremony.

I can go online or pick up a paper if I want merely to know who received honors. I will never be able to see Jill Scott grace the stage for the recognition of her Best Urban Performance of “Cross My Mind.” It may have been inspirational.

As Producer of the Year, John Shanks might have offered some interesting insights into the achievement of goals. I suppose we ought to be thankful he even got the opportunity to stand and wave from his seat.

We never see performers enacting scenes onstage during the Academy Awards. As film’s biggest night, we find ourselves tuning in to see who cries or is speechless, who is energetic or profound. With much of the credit coming from the endeavors of produced media, similar to the realm of film, why are the music awards so dominated by the performance? Only about 10 awards even honor an artist’s live show. Do musicians not also have an abundance of emotions to share with fans?

It always seemed to me the purpose of an awards show was to put the individuals and their musical accomplishments on display, giving them a momentary rest from the constant, very literal song and dance. They were meant to look at what artists have done as opposed to what, on that particular day, they can do.

Instead, as it stands now, it seems the formalities of the awards just get in the way of the live show. Why not call it the live version of the 47th Grammy record and put out press statements of winners at a later date?

Not to say there should be no performances. Perhaps a few quality — putting extreme emphasis on that aspect of quality — live songs could be balanced with the presentation of awards.

This occurred to me near the last excruciating hour of watching the Grammys, suddenly making me grieve the absence of musicians’ acceptance speeches. Characterized by the ability to perform, to present perfected and stylized representations of themselves, these are the few moments the public at large gets to see musicians as a bit more human, more real. These are the seconds when they offer recognition to muses and circumstance, give acknowledgement of support to family and friends.

How poignant was the moment when Kanye West, known for his abundance of fast words, stood in an arena of complete silence? That is what I was waiting for — something relying less on the glitz and glamour we can see fairly regularly, more on the appreciation of the honor in that moment.

The show did offer some interesting collaborations and tributes, but still with the same flaw. If those such as Pinetop Perkins are not given the opportunity to speak, why not instead create a separate show honoring the winners of the Lifetime Achievement Award? With Melissa Etheridge and Joss Stone bringing Janis Joplin to the masses as they did during the Grammys, people will watch.

On the other hand, I’m leaning toward the complete elimination of collaborations. The intentions, especially for the tsunami relief funding, were good. The execution always seems to fall short. Putting some eight, albeit talented, prima donnas on one stage might look nice, but it does not have the cohesive, harmonious sound a choir might better be able to offer.

And yet I stuck it out. Despite the monotony of the routine performances and getting tired eyes from squinting to read who actually won, I just could not walk away. It seems it will only get worse, putting seven bands, rather than this year’s five, on stage with each singing their own songs all at once, showing four award presentations rather than eight. And just like a kid sister’s plea that you attend that talent show, we sit and offer even our most superficial appreciation for these artists’ “greatest” moments.