The lament I continually hear from jazz folks is, “The Grammy’s aren’t meaningful,” but I don’t think they could be farther from the truth. As it happens, the Grammy’s continue to represent a night of celebration of music that gets more media coverage than the election of the next French president. There are two things I’ve noticed about this year’s Grammy awards — one of which is older news, and the other of which came as a surprise. The first is obvious — by most accounts, the awards, which is now in its 50th year, celebrate popular artists. This music largely bites. It’s catchy (read: often annoying) pop music with oft shallow lyrics and no musical sensibility at all. It’s overplayed commercial drivel that doesn’t deserve the airtime it receives. The Grammy’s certainly don’t help that situation.
Of course, in this ringing endorsement of popular music, it should be said that there often emerge gems of truly great music that can inspire pride in the people who reap the benefits of its cultural gifts. This is the Anti-Amy Winehouse, who took home several awards, except they’ll have to be mailed to her since apparently her Visa was denied.
However, the second and, to me, the more important observation to come from the Grammy’s is that it celebrates lifetime achievements in music. I’m not even referring to the award by that name as much as I am through the symbolism inherent in giving Herbie Hancock’s River: The Joni Letters the highest honor of Album of the Year, an album that didn’t even have a terrible amount of critical acclaim (despite my own recommendation of All Things Herbie, followed by my endorsement of All Things Joni). This was a true gesture to one of the greatest American musicians of all time, a brilliant composer, and one of the most dynamic talents in music in the world. His success is broad, but he is not nearly as celebrated as one of his impressive career should be. To have Herbie Hancock’s name in print and on screen in front of millions of folks brings everything that he stands for to the limelight, if not for just the briefest of moments. This can only be good for the art form of jazz.
To potentially open up a whole new generation of listeners to his creations, and in one fell swoop introduce them to Joni Mitchell, whose largely unknown to young listeners (it’s a cultural travesty) is perhaps the crowning achievement of the otherwise symbolic gesture of Album of the Year. The people who purchase this album in the coming year to see what it’s all about will explore avenues of music from hearing Joni herself, along with Luciana Souza and others. They will be familiar with the names of Corinne Bailey Rae and past Grammy glory Norah Jones, which may pique a musical curiosity to try and understand the link between all of these fine musicians.
It was a night for the Grammy’s that I am surprised by and in awe of. As Herbie said, it was the first time in 43 years that a jazz album had won this accolade, the last being Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto’s Getz/Gilberto. Of course, strictly speaking, this is the least of jazz in Herbie’s catalog, but the spirit still remains.
Here’s to his music being celebrated for another generation.
