Once again, the Grammys rolled out the red carpet for the annual Hollywood award show and, unsurprisingly, it did not disappoint in its display of political pandering and virtue signaling. The evening, broadcast to millions, was more predictable than a scripted reality show. It’s hard to believe anyone actually finds themselves on the edge of their seat wondering who will take home the coveted gramophone trophy—especially when it’s as obvious as a neon sign in a blackout that the night’s biggest winner would be Beyoncé. A year after the outcry about supposed racist snubs, the award gods apparently decided to preemptively dodge any further complaints. Cue the feigned look of shock as she accepted Album of the Year, a scene more rehearsed than a daytime soap.
Meanwhile, the music industry’s secrets were highlighted by the practice of how award votes are divvied up like some kind of bizarre musical gerrymandering. Labels and publishers engage in as much horse-trading as a politician looking to get a bill passed, emphasizing once again that winning has less to do with talent and more to do with who’s got the right handshake deals. And just like that, the razzle-dazzle of the awards is dimmed by the transactional flip of a switch.
Of course, no awards show would be complete without setting aside a chunk of airtime for the ever-expanding list of required shoutouts to various social causes. Lady Gaga graced the stage to make it clear that trans people deserve recognition, love, and apparently a standing ovation. It would seem we’ve gone from respecting private identities to mandatory public celebrations quicker than you can say “applause.” She’s right, though—it’s important to lift up one’s community, but does it always have to be an award show’s main headline? Surely there are other stages for such speeches that aren’t sandwiched between overly rehearsed thank yous and designer gown critiques.
Rounding out the evening was the comedic relief of the night, offering sage advice to stick with one’s tribe and be true to one’s authentic self—because what award show doesn’t need a lecture from atop a soapbox? At this point, it’s hard to tell what’s longer: the walk to the podium or the laundry list of social issues each presenter feels obliged to address. Perhaps next year they can hand out awards for best performance in virtue signaling or most courageous celebrity monologue. And as for Beyoncé’s next album? Only time will tell. But in Hollywood as everywhere else, one has to maintain appearances—and make sure those voter deals are inked just right.
