Full disclosure: In preparing for today’s Grammys announcement, the team at EW.com pulled some photos of folks we thought would get top nominations. Amy Winehouse, for instance (she got six). Rihanna (yep, she picked up a couple, for the ubiquitous "Umbrella" [ella ella]). And…Fergie.

Don’t get me wrong: I do not particularly love Fergie, especially the cheerleader-hop of "Fergalicious" (dear God, why did she have to go and mess with "Supersonic"?). But even I have to admit that she has been very productive this year, spinning out single after single, including the shockingly decent "Glamorous" and "Clumsy." So I was expecting her to pick up a nod for Record of the Year, the category that always has room for silly songs that everybody can shake their groove thangs to, but no! Though she did get recognized for Female Pop Vocal Performance, for "Big Girls Don’t Cry," the Dutchess was snubbed in the big categories. Now, whether this was a smart decision or a bad one on the part of the recording academy…well, I leave that up to you to debate in the comments section below.

Who were you surprised to see left off the nominees list?

Hello again, PopWatchers! Coming at you direct from the bowels of the Staples Center, I’m proud to present the live-blog of the actual Grammy Awards, where there will be no polka, but there will be the Police. We’re about half an hour away from the big show, and back here in the press room, the pre-telecast winners are still parading through, and the woman who’s in charge of our coop is getting annoyed with us because we’re not asking any questions. She also just accused us of not having a sense of humor. I am desperately trying to come up with a question for the winners of Large Jazz Ensemble Album, but woe is me, I cannot.

So we’re about to get underway, and according to the xeroxed schedule they just handed out, The Police are up first. I had these grandiose plans to try and sneak up to the sniper ring in the rafters to watch them play (I may have "gotten lost" during Coldplay’s set last year), but then I got scared that I’d get caught and tossed out and then you would have no liveblogger and someone would steal this EW laptop and Dierks Bentley would not only have lost his Grammys, he’d have lost his date. I can’t do that to you, or the laptop, or Dierks. Thus, here I sit. In the same building with The Police, but miles away.

7:53 pm There’s a man with a mic on the stage here at Staples warming up the crowd, telling them the rules ("Thank the Pro-Tools guy later") and pointing out the famous people. He just told Quentin Tarantino to sit his ass down. And you will be glad to know that "Lionel Richie, ladies and gentlemen, is in his seat." As are Stevie Wonder, Leslie Moonves, and, inexplicably, Philip Bailey.

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Continuing the pre-party smush of Grammy Week 2007, my friend Allyson and I headed over to the House of Blues Friday night to see this band called the Fray, who I believe at least 2 million of you have heard of, since you bought their album largely on the strength of a song from a Grey’s Anatomy commercial. I respect that about you, PopWatchers: Your trust that, whatever happens, Grey’s Anatomy will not let you down. And so even though prior to the show I wouldn’t have known Fray lead singer Isaac Slade if he’d hit me in the face with a really sensitive man-stick, I decided I would trust your tastes and check it out for myself.

It should come as no surprise that the band opened with "Over My Head" ("They blew their load," said my friend Allyson) and closed with "How to Save a Life." But it takes a special band to hold my interest when I’ve never heard their music before, and perhaps the highest compliment I can pay the Fray (pay the Fray!) is that I enjoyed myself a great deal during the songs in between. They write really endearingly pleasant tunes, these boys ("There are so many of them!" exclaimed Allyson), and every once in a while they do something that grabs you by the throat because it’s really great and original and not at all a total Wallflowers+Coldplay rip-off. ("PLAY SOME COLDPLAY!" screamed a drunk guy behind me.) Plus, they were totally adorable about being at their first Grammys after a number of years toiling in Denver obscurity, and spent a lot of time thanking their parents and their guitar tech and their lighting guy… and all of us, for missing the Justin Timberlake party to be there. (No problem, the Fray: We couldn’t get in, anyway.)

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Judging by the insane lines outside of Hollywood’s 1500-capacity theater, the Avalon, Justin Timberlake’s pre-Grammy soirée (sponsored by Rolling Stone and VCast by Verizon Wireless) promised to be a packed and glorious night. So much so that only 45 minutes after the party had started, even artists were having trouble getting in. Kid Rock, with Nickelback’s Chad Kroeger in tow, had to circle the block three times while his team made arrangements for a drama-less entrance. Grey’s Anatomy’s Sara Ramirez (with Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’s Jai Rodriguez), on the other hand, had to make do on her own and simply push through the crowds. Same with Maroon 5’s James Valentine. Was it worth the hassle?

In a word, yes. One thing you hope for when Justin Timberlake agrees to host a party is that maybe some of his friends (like Nelly Furtado, Timbaland, the Black Eyed Peas, etc.) will show. Well, not only did they make it there (and fortunately, they all got in okay) but they also treated a sweaty and likely cranky crowd to a series of high-energy performances and spontaneous jams.

P. Diddy creation Danity Kane got things going before handing off the mic to Pharrell protégé Kenna, who was, in turn, joined by Timberlake on drums. Impressed by JT’s prowess on the skins, I turned to his ’NSync groupmate JC Chasez, who happened to be standing next to me, to ask what he thought. “Justin can hold his own — he’s bangin’,” he said with pride.

Fergie came next, doling out another delish “Fergilicious” from the same stage she was on last night for the Peas’ annual Peapod benefit. The girls were certainly down with the universal guilty-pleasure-of-the-moment (I saw Taryn Manning get her groove on with Tara Reid chanting along nearby) and a subsequent mini-set by the Peas, but things hit a feverish pitch once again when Justin joined in for “Where Is the Love?” I couldn’t help but think about the simplicity of that song, especially since the Peas, or Will.I.Am specifically, have really pushed the envelope with so many left-of-center hits like “My Humps” and the aforementioned “’Licious.” The message still rings loud and clear, but the sound has certainly come far.

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