Musical taste is something that varies from person to person—the appeal of a song is in the ear of the listener, so to speak. The worth of a song is much harder to measure than scientific breakthroughs; even athletic success is measured by effort, skill, and winning. So how do we go about measuring the success of a song or album? Music reviews tackle issues of originality, variation, and skill, but traditional formulas can only take us so far.

The Grammys, for example, reward the best-selling artists of the year (at best). At worst, they’re an exclusive, elitist music industry ass-kissing machine that shoves established musical acts down our throats.

The most obvious example of this was the long transition of rap into an “acceptable” form of art. The rap genre, which had been rolling out big hits and had been a central theme in pop culture since 1980, didn’t have a category for best rap performance until 1989 (best rap album didn’t get included until 1996). Even then, the members of the Recording Academy largely ignored more hardcore hip-hop acts like N.W.A. and embraced the less threatening image of Run D.M.C. The snubbed rappers fired back lyrically, disillusioned that the first two rap Grammys went to the Fresh Prince and Young MC. The committee fanned the flames in 1992 by recognizing the white-friendly Will Smith over the far more talented Public Enemy at the peak of their career. It wasn’t until “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” won album of the year in 1999 that rap music was fully recognized. The committee, however, continues to reward rap acts after their heyday and neglect newer, fresher voices.

Remember what happened in 1992? Nirvana took the music world by storm with their second album “Nevermind,” and their raging hit single, “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yet for reasons unbeknownst to anyone outside the committee, Nirvana was glossed over for an award. Instead, the awards were swept by an undeserving Eric Clapton. I guess Nirvana didn’t get the memo that the Grammys will always go to rock legends past their prime.
The first winner for best hard rock/metal performance in 1988 was widely believed to be going to Metallica, yet, in a cruel twist of fate for all parties involved, Alice Cooper ended up embarrassingly announcing that Jetthro Tull had won the award. That’s right, the very same flute-rocking Jetthro Tull. In 2001, “Two Against Nature,” by the Steely Dan, won the award over Eminem’s “The Marshall Mathers LP” and Radiohead’s “Kid A”: one was forgotten, two became classics. This logic also explains best album wins in the last decade by Ray Charles, Herbie Hancock, and Robert Plant, three amazing artists…many decades ago.

Now in an age of endless libraries of digital music and unlimited access to new sounds, the Recording Academy has continued latching on to the familiar and opting for the most painfully obvious mainstream artists.
Is a Grammy a prestigious reward or a reward for prestige? The Grammy awards have now embraced a parallel relationship with the music industry and the Billboard charts. However, they’re still giving the upper hand to chart-toppers and former chart-toppers, even if the latter’s most recent effort is less than stellar. Most award shows feature a lot of drawn out pomp but provide some real excitement at the moment the envelope opens. The Grammys are spectacle without surprise.

Despite this verbal lashing, I think the Grammys have come a long way to be where they are right now. No one is outraged, as most of the popular musicians are given a chance. High album sales are rewarded with a flash of gold.

This brings up the show’s biggest problem. The “best” albums of the year aren’t always going to be the highest grossing (sometimes they’re the most highly advertised or most heavily played on the radio). The verdict: in order to have an exciting and satisfying awards show, the committee must quit counting their stacks of bills and make an effort to explore under the surface of mainstream music. Only then could they start the trends, not follow them obediently.