Are the Grammys Cool Again?

Who’s to say? But someone on Twitter said that this year’s Grammys were so good it felt like Kamala won. 

After what has felt like a decade of loss, this year, the carpet lined-LA ballroom rewarded a future of reclamation and retribution. Mountain-moving women ran the night and snatched their golden trophies, leading the charge into a new America where resistance is celebrated up to the highest tower. Chappell Roan, deliver us from evil! 

The music of our Gen Z leaders continues to guide our generation of aimlessness and provide doses of solace in a political and economic landscape that makes it near impossible for us to visualize a healthy future for ourselves. And so, we lose ourselves in the comfort of songs of the girls who get it. 

I feel proud in a world where Doechii holds the best rap album of the year. I feel secure in a world where Gaga gives us the next best thing to a “Telephone” sequel. And I feel hopeful in a world where Beyoncé was both recognized and rewarded in a genre that has historically pushed out people that look like her. Is this what it felt like to go to the cinema during the great depression?

But historically, celebrating our wins has only backfired. I mean, take November 7, 2020. The Saturday sky sparkled with fireworks and “FDT” rang from sea to shining sea, and look at how that turned out for us.

Arbitrary awards have never meant much to me, as they shouldn’t to you, but there is something to be said about the wave of hope that echoed from that millionaire-filled room. For one night and one night only, we were victorious. Are we… back?

Disappointment turned demise has ruled my entire twenties, and I’ve learned better than to expect things to go my way in places where I have so little control. But this year, the mere three miles between my ground-level, one-bedroom apartment and the royal Staples Center did not feel so far—I watched my own little worlds elevate and become everyone else’s too. For once, we have the aux, and people are listening. 

The lines between “indie” and mainstream have blurred quite a bit the last few years and it shows with acts like boygenius, Charli xcx, and Chappell Roan securing recent album of the year nominations. Wait—the Grammys aren’t just for middle-American, top grade Bruno Mars streamers anymore?

Let Charli xcx be our paradigm—her ass went from performing under Patrick Star’s rock to performing atop the Recording Academy’s stage. Literally. And my god, when I saw A.G. flapping that bob around and the e-girl empire consume the stage with party girl sleaze, that’s when I was certain that Kamala had won. 

The 67th Annual Grammy Awards felt most like the people’s Grammys, not the Academy’s. Ratings were actually down 9% from last year, despite this being the first time in years people seemed to actually give a fuck about who won. Grammy goes indie!

The juxtaposition of low ratings / high inner cultural regard and vice versa has become an all too familiar tension as of late. Just like that Blake Lively movie, “It Ends with Us”—sweeping the box offices while my plethora of AMC A-list associates have never once mentioned the film. And like how an overwhelming majority of voting Americans are convinced that Donald Trump is the solution to our problems.

The worlds we’ve created for ourselves used to keep us safe, but more recently, have only kept us in the dark while silent evils prevail (like Blake Lively). So to see pieces of our world blossom on the Recording Academy’s stage for 15.4 million to see, after a lifetime of so much loss, well, that was our moment, kids.

But imperfect—there was a cryptic speech from Harvey Mason Jr., Recording Academy CEO, celebrating the supposed systemic changes made thanks to The Weeknd’s years of criticism and protest, followed by a performance by The Weeknd’s innie. 

And Charli xcx, boasting that she will perform, “the least Grammy-appropriate song,” only to not perform her anti-Grammys anthem, “Spring Breakers.” Like come on, a domestic terrorism charge would have been sooooo Brat of her. 

I suppose you’ve got to play the game to stand on the stage, and wear the gown and to accept the award. But bit by bit, we’ll continue to make it our own. Grammy viewership is down? Good. Let’s take their trophies, prance on their stage, pull up in a big pink truck and unravel the system from the inside out .