It’s finally February. A handful of large-scale protests, news of a new Nazi-style Immigrant crime magazine, a 25 billion dollar wall, and we’re still rolling.
No doubt, 2017 isn’t shaping up to be the tamest of the years to come. And as it turns out, the usually bubbly, doe-eyed world of pop culture seems to be taking cues from its political counterpart. Three of the major Grammy award nominees- Drake, Justin Beiber and Kanye West- have decided to sit out the prestigious ceremony, as per reports. This, coupled with Kanye’s previous statements, makes me wonder if the music world is set to stage its own little march of opposition.
So here’s why this is valid, long overdue, and one hundred percent essential right now.
The Grammy awards have become somewhat of a cultural landmark. A victory lap of the arts, and the artists who have challenged, pushed, and broken boundaries. Or at least that’s what they claim to be. The award shows, though claiming to be proponents of the art and the art only, do not extend this ideology while judging their categories. Lately, they have come under increasing criticism for doing what America does best: exemplifying White Privilege.
This year’s Grammys appear not to be too different. Among its many armories, there lies a central battle. The clash between two of music’s biggest forces, two of music’s most distinct cultures. The unapologetically bold and political versus the comfortably safe. The loud versus the purposefully louder. Adele versus Beyoncé.
Now tell me we haven’t seen this same exact B.S before. Like, every damn year. Kendrick Lamar vs Taylor Swift. Frank Ocean vs Mumford and Sons. Beyonce vs Beck. Kanye vs whoever-y’all-nominated-instead. We know how this ends; we’ve seen it many, many times before.
The most recent example of the Grammys’ weakening credibility is the win of Taylor Swift’s 1989 over Kendrick Lamar’s behemoth of a sophomore effort, To Pimp a Butterfly. On paper, the latter is a clear winner. Butterfly hits the mark on all of the deciding factors- social relevance (the song Alright, for example, has been used during BLM protests, and is something of an anthem for black pride), lyrical complexity, and an innovative fusion of musical sensibilities.
The complexity of Lamar’s vision on race and society, coupled with its unique execution, placed it above not only Swift’s album but almost all albums released that year. The only thing that Swift had going for her, perhaps, was the chart-topping numbers that 1989 hit, but even that ubiquity was already made certain by the proven resilience of her brand. Kendrick, as it seemed, had all you could ask for and more. On paper, at least.
Yet I found myself dimly surprised, yet again, by the name that cut through the silence of the awaiting crowd. I remember going through my timeline that night. The tweets ranged from varying degrees of perpetual side-eye to the funny, yet painfully accurate, “This is like John Green winning over James Baldwin.”
The thing is, John Greens have a long history of winning over James Baldwins. It’s almost like an annual Grammy tradition. From Ed Sheeran’s 2347th rumination on everlasting love winning over the political statement that was ‘Alright’, to Sam Smith and Adele sweeping the stage for a genre white people truly believed they revived, the major award categories have largely favored the inoffensively bland over the socially woke. If the past was anything to go by, this year’s Grammys will be a win once again for the safe, white tradition.
Now we wouldn’t be taking issue if the Grammys were, say, the People’s Choice Awards. Those award shows openly admit to being fueled by the public, a war between fan armies more than between artists. The Grammys, on the other hand, stand apart. The self-proclaimed “biggest night in music,” the awards hold prestige in that they are the largest proponents of Art. Voted by professionals in the industry, a Grammy to your name brings a special kind of honor, something beyond the reach of album sales and video views. Its premise lies in artistic merit, creativity, and innovation. Or at least that’s what its marketing team desperately wants us to believe.
Despite the wide influence and acclaim that their culture has on the pop landscape, the Grammys fail to honor hip hop and black artists as willingly as they honor white artists. Rarely, if ever, has a hip-hop artist snagged a top four award, picking up only two Album of the Years- shocking for a genre that has created some of the most critically acclaimed works of our time. Hip hop is told to stay satisfied with its small Rap category delegation, and even then its trophy is awarded at any given chance to a less acclaimed, more mainstream white artist (need I remind you of the Macklemore incident).
“If the past is anything to go by, black people don’t really stand a chance against their white counterparts while competing for the biggest, most memorable award.”
This is frustrating. Not only for the Grammy nominees but to any one watching. It’s a message to all people of color- you may be twice as good, but still not enough. You may create something that captures the pain and the sickness, the beauty and the unwavering hope of an entire culture but still fall short for reasons that you can’t control. For reasons that do not matter. For reasons like marketability, which the Grammys seem to favor over creativity. Kendrick’s album was not the safe choice. It was too loud, too brazen, too explicit in its examination of police brutality, discrimination, and black culture in the twenty-first century. It challenged society’s most deep-rooted beliefs and actions. Made people uncomfortable. Like, you know, any great art worth its place in history.
Frank Ocean said it best, in an interview regarding his decision to not submit any of his works to the 2017 awards. “It just doesn’t seem to be representing very well for people who come from where I come from, and hold down what I hold down,” he explained, calling the Awards a night of “nostalgic importance.” Referencing Collin Kaepernick, Ocean, like Kanye, recognizes that they don’t really stand a chance. The Grammys don’t represent the music that is most vital, bold and thought provoking in our world today. So why stand up, why even participate, when you know you’re going to ultimately lose to an album whose most memorable moment was a misheard Starbucks lyric.
The Recording Academy is irrelevant. It has no bearing on the musical pulse of today. And ultimately, the only power it has on music culture is the power that we give it. So I hope you find something else to do Feb 12. I know I will.
