While I’ve never been a “dedicated follower of fashion,” as The Kinks sang, especially when it involved Top 40, mainstream pop, I somehow managed to cling to some sense of who the kinds of people were that garnered Grammys. Until this year.
I guess that officially pushes me up and over the threshold of relevance, right? Actually, I do know who Taylor Swift is, so maybe I get a reprieve from getting shoved into the trash bin. Possibly that admission probably means that I need to check my white privilege.
My penchant has been for music that went against the grain, or wasn’t trying too hard to be fashionable. In high school it was The Dead Kennedys. I coped with my post-fundamentalist years stranded in Indiana, surrounded with a soundtrack that was weighted towards punk and industrial music; Black Flag and Ministry come to mind. Hit singles never really captured my fancy.
I gave last night’s Grammys about 25 minutes, which was quite generous, I think. I didn’t see anything that made me sit up and take notice like in prior years. But, like I indicated, I’m not someone you should be looking for as your pop culture bellwether.
Someone named Ed Sheeran (who apparently was a friend and occasional collaborator with the white girl, Swift) had an album with the title “X.” This kept him in the running for the Grammy categories for best record, album, and song, but he never managed to push past his friend. Aren’t these categories somewhat redundant?
I’ll share with you the kind of music by an X that I’m into. They sang about “The Decline of Western Civilization.” Which come to think of it, we’re living through—as evidenced by this year’s Grammys.