Reflecting on the Grammys
To expect nothing from the Grammys is still expecting too much. Anyone who is even the least bit familiar with popular culture should know that the Grammys are the impotent backwater of awards ceremonies. Despite being a part of the quasi-prestigious EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony), a collection of awards that serve virtually no meaningful purpose to competent artists, the Grammys have proven time and time again to be among the most relentlessly ignorant group to express opinions on anything. This year’s Grammys only further reveal the Recording Academy’s consistent dedication to safeness, tastelessness and legacy.
What especially hurts the most about this year’s Grammys is how promising it all seemed. Of course, the nominations had their usual number of headscratchers, both positive and negative. Mercifully, Ed Sheeran and his pathetic album Divide was totally shut out from the general categories. The Grammys additionally managed to tune down their usual country shtick. However, critically adored records from A Tribe Called Quest, Vince Staples, Fleet Foxes, Paramore and Kelela were all snubbed from their respective categories.
That being said, the nominees turned out to be of surprisingly high quality, striking a rare balance between culturally pertinent artists and commercial presence. Most importantly, the general categories seemed to address the race issues that have been plaguing all awards ceremonies, in addition to picking great artists. For the “renowned” Album of the Year category, Jay-Z, Kendrick Lamar, Childish Gambino and Bruno Mars snatched nominations for their respective albums, with the last slot going to Lorde’s magnificent Melodrama. Filling up the other general categories were the likes of Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee, Logic, Khalid, Lil Uzi Vert and SZA.
What a coincidence that the Grammys knocked down every single opportunity they had to pick something relevant, different, brilliant and important with the same wrong answer!
Come Awards Ceremony night, the energy was real. Would Kendrick finally win his long due Album of the Year? Or maybe Lorde? Or even Jay-Z! The possibilities were far more promising than on a typical Grammy night. But first, the Premiere Ceremony, which really is short for “you’re important, probably very good, but not as important as three hours of phoned-in piano ballads.” It’s an exceptionally awkward and depressing affair. Despite carrying some of the ceremony’s most important categories, such as Best Pop Vocal, Rock, R&B, Jazz, Folk, Dance/Electronic, and Alternative Music Albums, the superficial extravagance of the main event ahead completely overshadows its chance of celebration. It’s where the “winners” have to raise their hand so the camera can identify them as they collect their trophy in front of a half-empty theater.
But, as I said, some very important categories are announced during this time. Outside of presentation, the Premiere Ceremony doesn’t differ much from the main event. So did it continue the positive trend set by the nominees? Well, actually, it kind of did, especially in the rock and alternative categories. For Best Dance Recording, LCD Soundsystem’s “Tonite” from their beautiful comeback album American Dream earned the group their first Grammy. LCD Soundsystem has been among the strongest indie forces of the past twenty years, so it was deeply satisfying to see them gain some awards recognition.
In the Alternative Music Album category, the nominations were not as great. For every Father John Misty and LCD Soundsystem, there is an Arcade Fire or Gorillaz, ready to play the legacy card in order to get nominated for their terrible new albums. Thankfully, The National won for Sleep Well Beast, their best record in years. For Best Rock Album, The War on Drugs climbed up above established bands—such as Metallica and Mastodon, and virtually unknown bands, such as Nothing More—to victory. And while I think Queens of the Stone Age was more deserving, it’s deeply encouraging to see the Grammys acknowledge a leading and innovative artist in modern rock with an award.
As the Premiere Ceremony reached its midway point, my indiehead high was beginning to blind me from the complete disaster that was lurking ahead. By the time Ed Sheeran’s name was called out, it was too late. Yes, dud-meister Ed Sheeran and his album Divide beat out a category stacked to the brim with exceptional female talent because he learned that marimbas are a thing. Simply put, Kesha, Lady Gaga and even Lana Del Rey released much better albums. In fact, the biggest duds in the pop categories are from the male artists, and yet they generally make up a larger percentage of the nominees.
The past seven years of pop music have very much been single-handedly nailed down by female artists. Just look at the decade’s strongest pop albums: Carly Rae Jepsen’s Emotion, Grimes’ Art Angels, Robyn’s Body Talk, Janelle Monáe’s The ArchAndroid, Haim’s Days Are Gone, Paramore’s self-titled album, Charli XCX’s True Romance, Beyoncé’s Lemonade and, of course, Lorde’s Melodrama. All female artists. I’ve probably left off a few. As for male pop? Um, there’s Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience, I guess?
My point, if it’s not clear enough, is that a substantial number of female pop records have been hailed by critics and listeners alike during the past couple of years. Even hipsters and music snobs like most of those records. They’re clearly miles ahead in the pop game. It’s not even a demographic issue anymore. It’s glaringly a quality one. So why haven’t the Grammys taken the time to properly capture this sect of the contemporary pop zeitgeist?
These issues only become more apparent as the main show started touting its holier-than-thou political soapboxing. Other than an impeccably executed and thoughtful performance from Kendrick Lamar and Dave Chappelle, most of the show’s attempts at substantial political commentary fell right through. Whether it be through ham-fisted performances or fractured, obligatory gestures towards the #MeToo movement, the Grammys presented a vision of political activism that was gutless and inconsequential. This year’s Grammys host James Corden said something about music speaking louder than words. Sadly, the show he’s hosting doesn’t seem to understand what that means.
There’s no point in beating around the bush. Bruno Mars ended up sweeping every award he was nominated for, and it angers me. There’s nothing particularly wrong with Mars. He’s pleasant and mildly nostalgic. But it’s really a pity if those are your two biggest descriptors as an artist.
In most sane people’s minds, it would be the logical assumption that both Jay-Z and Lamar are long overdue for Album of the Year recognition. And both have the quality work to justify it. DAMN isn’t Lamar’s strongest work by any means, but it’s still a sprawling, sonically diverse and philosophically engaging depiction of the African American struggle. Jay-Z’s 4:44 is the first dad rap album for all the right reasons. As hip-hop begins to age and enter a new era, the pioneers who filled the original songbook must find ways of tuning the genre to different stages of life, and Jay-Z has done exactly that. Confronting the failings of his complicated life and our complicated country, a matured Jay-Z provides a personal blueprint for the pains of African-American life in newer, less discussed contexts. Not to mention, they both feature diamond-sharp songwriting, impeccable flow from two great emcees, inventive usage of samples, enrapturing production and distinct sonic identities. These records speak directly to the issues that the Grammys supposedly support.
But, to the Grammy voters, Bruno Mars is far more long due for his Big Night. Starting with sappy, corny love ballads, Mars has now learned to pull the retro card. His album 24K Magic and the hook-laden singles it carries are primed to evoke the 80s and early 90s, just with cleaner, glossier modern production. It’s enjoyable but extremely derivative. But it’s OK, Mars’ lack of originality, musical richness and pertinence are made up by the fact that Grammy voters can shake up the ghosts of their younger selves to the sounds of recycled music.
Surely Lorde’s Melodrama, with its kaleidoscopic instrumentation, clever wordplay, multi-dimensional subject matter, booming rhythms, creative hooks, experimental sonic texturing and subtle nods to the best of 80s pop, can do the same? Apparently no. That “no” was so strong that Lorde was completely shut out of anything other than Album of the Year. She wasn’t even given a chance to perform solo. Being the backing girl of a forced Tom Petty tribute just wasn’t enough, it seems. It’s as though artists want to present their own creative work, especially if it’s awesome. Who knew?
What a coincidence that the Grammys knocked down every single opportunity they had to pick something relevant, different, brilliant and important with the same wrong answer!
The Grammys are not here for rap or for rock or for pop or for anything that is sacred or meaningful in music. Actions speak a lot louder than words, and the actions the Grammys have demonstrated through their awards fail to ground the cheapness in their words. These award shows and media outlets do not actually care. It is all a business and a show, one that fails to generate enough viewership or entertainment value, run by people stuck in the past. Yes, I am very much scapegoating the Grammys for society’s greater ills, but how can I not if they keep pumping up their own self-importance? Groundbreaking and marginalized artists have been screaming for decades, pushing forward the development of our culture and lives. But they continue to fall on deaf Academy ears. The only thing that can work now is if we give them our own silent treatment. Then, maybe they will know what it is like to be muted.