About the Grammys

I realize that I never wrote a preview or anything of the like for the Grammys this year. Why not? Because the Grammys have lost all semblance of meaning to anyone who follows that sort of thing. It was high time I grew up and accepted that those awards mean absolutely nothing.

Unlike the Oscars or Emmys, the Grammys are too unpredictable and off-the-wall to really matter anymore. While that could be taken as a good thing, it isn’t. See, the Oscars and Emmys, for the most part, go to those that deserve them most. They aren’t popularity contests or picked by people who seem to get all knowledge of their respective field from the magazine rack at Border’s.

Every year, the Grammy nominations come out and they get me excited for change. The nominations are about 80% very deserving, 10% to the popular kids and 10% to artists who released their best albums decades before. It’s as if the nomination committee flips through a years worth of Rolling Stone’s and Billboards to pick 90%, and their old vinyl to pick the remaining 10%.

No matter how far I think they’ve come, every year, the awards very rarely go to who deserve them. They almost always, without fail, go to some sentimental favorite that is sure to be a good PR move. If an old act from the 60s and 70s has an album, it’ll beat no any relative newcomer that deserves it most. If someone dies in the four months before the Grammys, god knows they’ll be nominated and win for just about any bit of recycled sound they put out that year. Frankly, I’m shocked Tupac hasn’t won more.

At the very least, the Grammys always go to something “safe.” I mean, the first award for rap ever given went to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince, for Christ’s sake. Never mind that the best rap ever was produced by the likes of Run DMC, Public Enemy, N.W.A. and the Beasties at that time.

This year was just as predictable as any other and it has, inevitably, left me shaking my head.

Now, don’t get me wrong, Ray Charles was an incredible singer and a musical genius. His duet with Norah Jones was beautiful, sure. But was “Genius Loves Company” the best album of his career? No. And it wasn’t the best album of the year either. Nor was his single the best of the year (unless, maybe, you listen only to Adult Contemporary).

It’s a goddamn crime that Green Day did not win more for the prolific “American Idiot.” This album is the best to come out in years from an industry driven by singles and market value. This album makes the case that albums such as the Who’s “Tommy” and Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” and the Beatles “Sgt. Pepper” had made decades ago: That every single song is worth hearing.

Every track on “American Idiot” would be a good single, from the title track to “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “Holiday” and “Are We, We Are,” are great radio tunes. And best of all, al of them fit together to tell, of all things, a coherent story. That hasn’t been done in years. Every song is worth paying for. You can’t say that about any of the other nominees.

With nominations for Green Day, the Killers, Franz Ferdinand and the like, how could U2’s weakest single or anything by John Mayer overtake them? It just doesn’t make sense. Were the 50-something voters just covering their ears, saying, ‘It’s just too loud”?

Luckily, the Grammy old biddy formula worked in the favor for one deserving album. Loretta Lynn defied the usual trend by coming out with the best album of her career (and one of the best of the year) late in her life. “Van Lear Rose” was ten times better than any of the country albums nominated.

So, I’ve given up on the Grammy as anything but a spectacle. Though they’re getting better about recognizing good urban music (see Kanye West’s wins), they still manage to botch the big ones. And until the committee cycles out its closed-minded voters, they will cease to matter as anything other than a news event.

And I, for one, will stop expecting change and stop watching the show (except for the musical performances, of course).