The Grammys have a rich and beautiful history of accidentally exposing just how out of touch the wokest arm of the entertainment industry really is.
When I was a kid, it used to be about the awards. For instance, Album of the Year was always an opportunity to see how much industry execs were living in the past; Tony Bennett winning for his “MTV Unplugged” in the middle of the alternative music revolution in 1995, for instance, or the thoroughly washed-up Steely Dan winning in 2001 against epoch-defining albums by Radiohead and Eminem are perfect examples of why even artists hate the people technically responsible for making them multimillionaires.
Nowadays, it’s about the accidental faceplant caused by an attempt to be edgy. For instance, who
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