Last man standing?

Eminem could actually win Album of the Year

by Gary Susman

Eminem

If you're confused by last week's Grammy nominations -- especially by how Record of the Year differs from Album of the Year or Song of the Year -- you're not alone. After all, the kids who buy most music now weren't alive in the days before CDs, so they can't be expected to know what a "record" or an "album" is. (To judge by their taste, they may not know what a "song" is either.)

The only ones who can tell these items apart, it seems, are Grammy voters, who give the Record award to a single, the Song award to a composer, and the Album award to a team of producers. Actually, the Grammy voters have made the distinction clearer than ever this year; for the first time in the awards' 43-year-history, there is no overlap between the Record and Album categories. It would appear that the performers who make the best singles (ka-ching!) are not the same ones who can fill out a whole CD. This is how the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences balances the conflicting demands of commerce and art.

It's a tough fence to straddle. Unlike the American Music Awards or the Billboard Awards, the Grammys are not just a popularity contest -- they aspire to judge actual musical quality. Yet they can't ignore huge sales figures either -- 50 million 'N Sync fans can't be wrong, can they? Add to the mix NARAS's recent attempts to make up for its historic reputation for unhip, unadventurous choices; the diverse tastes and backgrounds and ages of NARAS's members; the impossibility of listening to all but a small fraction of the thousands of discs released each year; the ever-increasing number of award categories; and the unspoken need to name performers who will make for a ratings-grabbing awards broadcast -- and it's no wonder the nominations seem to suffer from a split personality.

If anything, it's strange that this split didn't occur sooner. Musical style is more fragmented than ever, at least to judge by the Grammys' own award categories; there are 100 now, including two new ones this year (Best Native American Music and Best Pop Instrumental Album). Rap and R&B look stronger than ever this year, but no one earned more than five nominations. Those artists with four include Eminem, Destiny's Child, country stalwart Vince Gill, R&B songwriter/producer Rodney Jerkins, and R&B singer Joe. Seventeen artists have three nominations and not much else in common; they include Sheryl Crow, D'Angelo, Foo Fighters, Macy Gray, Don Henley, Faith Hill, Madonna, B.B. King, Aimee Mann, 'N Sync, Ricky Scaggs, and U2. It's a wonder that the voters could agree on anything.

Years when there was a clear favorite that everyone could rally behind, like Santana last year and Lauryn Hill the year before, should be considered the anomalies. Santana's Supernatural (Arista), which paired the boomer favorite with up-to-date collaborators, and The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (Columbia), which mixed hip-hop with more traditional pop and R&B performances, were packages cannily designed to have something for everyone. But it's common now for a musician to become a big star selling just to a small demographic niche. Look at this year's Best New Artist nominees: country mavericks Shelby Lynne and Brad Paisley, rap/metal band Papa Roach, R&B chanteuse Jill Scott, and hip-hop novelty act Sisqo. Think Shelby Lynne listeners ever bang their heads to Papa Roach, or fans of twangy traditionalist Paisley also groove to "Thong Song?"

So though the Record of the Year nominees look as if they'd been picked by Carson Daly, the Album of the Year nominees look like the work of Jann Wenner. Up for Record of the Year, which is still considered the Grammys' top award, are "Say My Name" (Destiny's Child), "I Try" (Macy Gray), "Music" (Madonna), "Bye Bye Bye" ('N Sync), and "Beautiful Day" (U2). Up for Album of the Year are Midnite Vultures (Beck; Interscope), The Marshall Mathers LP (Eminem; Interscope), Kid A (Radiohead; Capitol), You're the One (Paul Simon; Warner Bros.), and Two Against Nature (Steely Dan; Warner Bros.). Song of the Year nods went to the composers of U2's "Beautiful Day," Faith Hill's "Breathe," Lee Ann Womack's "I Hope You Dance," Macy Gray's "I Try," and Destiny's Child's "Say My Name."

Even within each category, this is a peculiar list. Gray and U2 seem more like album artists than singles artists, but their albums fell outside the Grammys' odd eligibility window (October 1, 1999, to September 30, 2000), so only their singles could be considered. But then, how did Kid A (released October 3, 2000) sneak in -- was it such a critical darling that NARAS just couldn't wait till next year? As for dinosaurs Simon and Steely Dan: can you say knee-jerk? Why did it take seven songwriters to create "Say My Name," which has about three words in it? And where's the ubiquitous Britney Spears? (Relegated to Pop Vocal Album and Female Pop Vocal Performance, for Oops . . . I Did It Again and its title track.)

This personality crisis is especially clear in the case of Eminem, who was nominated for four awards this year, more than all but two artists (his mentor, Dr. Dre, and Destiny's Child's Beyonce Knowles). He sold seven million copies of Marshall Mathers in 2000, more than any release except 'N Sync's No Strings Attached (Jive). Yet the 274 million Americans who didn't buy his album find him loathsome and sickening. Even music critics who consider him homophobic, misogynistic, and violent can't deny his artistry -- but what if he shows up at the ceremony? It was almost fun to watch the Grammy spinmeisters groping for an acceptable rationale for Eminem's inclusion. At the announcement of the nominations a week ago Wednesday, presenter and old-guard Grammy winner Sheryl Crow fished for an appropriate comment on The Marshall Mathers LP, finally calling it an "interesting" album. No surprise that GLAAD and NOW protested NARAS's recognition of a guy who raps about knifing gays, killing his wife, and raping his mother (though no one objected last year when Eminem was nominated for three awards and took home two). NARAS president Michael Greene responded with a nuanced and candid statement: "I think Eminem has done a spectacular job pissing just about everybody off. We certainly don't condone the message, but it is a curious situation when probably the most repugnant recording is also, in some ways, the most remarkable."

Can Eminem win Album of the Year? It seems unlikely that he could overcome the media stink. Yet older voters who find Beck and Radiohead too weird could cancel out younger voters who find Paul Simon and Steely Dan the kind of reactionary choices NARAS has tried to move beyond, and that could leave Eminem the last man standing. Then again, in a year when two dead artists (Frank Sinatra and Bob Marley) were nominated for their duets with live artists (Celine Dion and Lauryn Hill, respectively), in a year when a nod for Best Latin Pop Album went to singing pugilist Oscar De La Hoya, anything could happen. It certainly wouldn't be the first time in recent memory that a crazy, divided electorate had trouble naming a winner everyone could stand behind.