If it weren’t for Twitter, I definitely would not have relinquished my God-given television ratings to three and a half hours’ worth of somber crooning, satanic-themed performances and blatant snubbing of black artistry.
However, since Twitter was on twenty Sunday night (as per usual during popular award shows and Shonda Day), I spent the entire time tweeting, retweeting and LOL’ing at the hysterical commentary on my timeline. Some of y’all are just flat-out ign’ant. But not nearly as ignorant as the collection of tomfoolery I witnessed during the 57th annual
Rigged,Racist Mock Elections Grammy Awards.
I am not here to provide a full-fledged rundown of LL’s lick-lipping, Kangol-wearing hosting abilities (which pretty much sums it up); Rihanna’s massive, bubblegum pink ball gown (which was kind of cute, in a quinceañera, Disney Princess Collection sort of way); Madonna’s traditional Illuminati tribute (complete with shirtless, devil horn-wearing, disco-dancing queens); Usher’s poor choice of song for the Stevie Wonder tribute (out of the bajillion upbeat Stevie hits he could have performed, he picks the slowest, boring-est one of all???); Paul McCartney’s impressive miming techniques during his trio performance with Rih and Yeezy (someone clearly swerved Mr. Mac’s mic during soundcheck); the profound shade in my now-favorite quote by Prince: “Like books and black lives, albums still matter” (Yas!); the messed-up shade behind Bey’s — sort of — soulful-ish performance of the late Mahalia Jackson’s “Precious Lord,” which was flawlessly sang by Ledisi in the 2015 film Selma (sorry, Beyhive, but your Queen Bey should have stayed seated on her thrown — in her lane — and allowed Ledisi to SANG the heck out of that song like she did in the movie); or Kanye’s borderline rant (channeling his 2009 VMAs stunt with Taylor Swift) after 14-instrument-playing musician Beck won Best Album of the Year, instead of multiple-songwriter-utilizing Beyoncé (no shade, just stating facts).
All that being said, I’m here for none of the above.
Coincidentally, the one person I am here for won two Grammys (for his latest single, “i”) and wasn’t even in attendance — and rightfully so, considering: 1) his win was announced during the pre-televised portion of the event (while everyone was busy watching and Twitter-bashing celebrities on the red carpet) and 2) he was nominated for SIX Grammy awards last year for his epic good kid, mA.A.d city album, and went home with zero.
If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m referring to the one and only Kendrick Lamar (affectionately known as K Dot).
I was in college when I first fell in love with K Dot’s golden voice, socially conscious lyrics and refreshing flow. His debut studio album Section.80 was feel-good music to my ears. But it’s not just those things that stole my heart. It’s the humility, wisdom and authenticity that this man possesses and exudes effortlessly. As a writer, his creative drive and confidence inspire me to the friggin’ core.
In his most recent interview with the Breakfast Club, he said he’s been in such a creative space while recording his forthcoming album (whose release date has yet to be announced), that he hasn’t gotten a haircut in months. Now if that ain’t dedication, I don’t know what is.
So how does an artist of that caliber “low key” win TWO Grammy Awards — on the absolute lowest of keys? That has snub and shade written all over it, if you ask me.
But when you’re a creative genius who’s far wiser and more talented than 99.9% of your musical peers (the .1% including the likes of J. Cole, Logic, Drake, Wale and Big Sean), I guess an untimely, pivotal loss followed by a hushed, un-televised victory one year later, comes with the territory.