Grammy Week is Depressing

And why it’s okay to feel that way, written by two L.A. hopefuls

The Grammys came and went this year with more to celebrate than we initially expected. Record numbers of non-male artists swept the show, including Lady Gaga, Lola Young, Doechii, Laufey, FKA Twigs, SZA, Billie Eilish, the Wicked girlies, and Amy Allen. Steven Spielberg achieved EGOT status. Bad Bunny clinched a win ahead of what we’re sure will be a captivating and historic halftime performance next week. And “Luther Vandross” surpassed Jay-Z in total number of Grammy wins.

There’s much to celebrate for the upper class of music. After weeks of political turmoil—and many of us asking, “Is now finally the time to pack up our bags and flee?”—seeing dozens of artists take the stage to call for change against the illegal kidnapping of humans far and wide made the Grammys feel… good (?).

But for those of us who have not yet taken the Grammy stage, this time of year is a mixed bag of uncomfortable and exciting emotions. These feelings ring loud and true for musicians at any stage of their careers. If you’re anywhere near a music hub and in the gorgeous middle of your career, you might experience this week like a rush of pledges eager to find a sorority in the first few weeks of school. While knocking Grammy event after Grammy event off your imaginative bingo card, you might stop to ask yourself:

Do I even want to be in this sorority?

It’s a fair question. As we get older in this industry, the allure of what the Grammys represent can feel disheartening. These Grammy events can start to seem like a consolation prize for what many of us desire deep down.

The Thrill of Celebration

Don’t get us wrong; it’s a thrill to celebrate the people we hold near and dear as they ascend the stage and score a nomination. In fact, it’s almost what makes the entire award show worth supporting. Outwardly, we’re bursting with pride and happiness for the musicians who rightfully earn a nomination. Internally, it makes us feel that much closer (and more relevant) in an often loveless industry. So while we cheer with earnest encouragement, we also desperately want to be in their shoes.

While the Grammys continue to uphold relevance in an increasingly political global music scene, we can’t help but feel there’s something dishonest in our celebration. Now that we’re older and wiser, we understand that the sheer amount of financial backing many nominees receive is something most musicians will struggle to obtain in their entire lives. Bigger artists can usually secure the following: label-backed marketing budgets, teams of A-list professionals—not to mention the awards themselves, which require paid submissions “for your consideration,” AND the hefty price of tickets if you’re lucky enough to be nominated. There may be a lucky few exceptions, but money makes the world go round, and our industry is no different.

The Pressure of Comparison

The source of the frustration for these authors comes from the lack of transparency within the culture at Grammy events. As far as we’ve been taught, the more of these events you attend, the higher your musical social status—right?

Oh, you didn’t get invited to the BMI Brunch or the Spotify Spa Day? What about the Amazon Music Picnic? No? You didn’t know? Well, that’s too bad. Because these events (obviously) hold the key to your career’s success, and we should be wearing them proudly as patches on our Girl Scout vests.

While we were humbled to attend some genuinely inspiring events, the comparing scorecards culture got old fast. We couldn’t help but reflect in a somber way. Because, let’s be honest, these events (while usually well-intentioned) can be depressing to attend. Why?

Because it feels like proving your worth. Because we don’t yet have what we want. Because we are “behind.” Because we are “not there yet.”

Call us self-involved. Call us pessimistic. You may be right.

The Rejection of the Grammy Premise

Some musicians reject the premise of the Grammys altogether—punk and self-assured enough to say, “Fuck the system,” and “That award is not a measure of the art I create.” To them, we tip our hats.

However, in an industry where exclusion is king, it is permissible to say, “I want to be seen,” and not have that be taboo. Actually, a lot of our survival depends on us being seen and recognized. In an industry that is actively working against us—with historically low royalty payments and A.I. gunning for our art—we do not blame a single soul for screaming their existence from the rooftops.

And when you are not actively rising or being seen, you might feel like you aren’t doing enough for your career. You can be unbelievably optimistic for the future while also sitting with the isolation and subjective failure you may feel.

We bet that almost all of us feel the weight of it.

We are not saying don’t dream. We are not saying it is wrong to be happy this time of year. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think everyone had a right to delusion over the hopes of their own success—because, hey, we have it! But we are saying that the clout-inspired frenzy around these events is quite aimless.

Mid-Event Reflections

Authors Tanja & Claire: mid-walk, mid-Grammy Events Week, mid-crisis (per usual):

Tanja: “I feel like to get to where you want to be in this career, you have to be a little bit delusional. You have to be like ‘I want to be a pop artist. I want this.’ You know what I mean? I want to be seen at events. I don’t know… I also respect the other musicians out there who reject the whole thing as is. You know, they don’t want the accolades. They don’t think that contributes to the art and to the form of it.”

Claire: “I don’t think true artists create with the intention of receiving awards. You know, you may receive an award because your work is just so… earth-shattering. And I wouldn’t even go on record to say that everyone who’s won a Grammy in the existence of the Grammys has created earth-shattering music.”

Tanja: “And the fact is, even if I won a free ticket to the Grammys right now, I would still be ‘nobody’.”

Claire: “Okay—but in these different rooms, at these events, what’s making you not feel included? Because there’s a huge base of people who are in this mid-tier.”

Tanja: “It’s not like I’m not included; anyone can be included. You could find 10 events to go to if you want to; you can be included. I just think it’s like… let’s just be in reality about what’s happening.”

Claire: “So is there a part of you at the next event, someone comes up to you and says, ‘I love the Grammys,’ would you just be honest at one point and be like, ‘Oh, I think they’re depressing?’”

Tanja: “I did.”

Claire: “How did they respond to that?”

Tanja: “They looked at me disgusted and they said, ‘Don’t say that because this is the most beautiful week ever.’—Is it?”

Claire: “Well, here’s my question. What do people enjoy about the Grammys that make it that much better than the rest of the industry? For example, an amazing performance from a local artist, or your friend releasing the coolest music video? Why would the Grammys be the best music you’ve ever seen?”

Tanja: “Because again, it’s like the people that want the fame adjacency of going to events, going to parties, being seen, introduced to people. I would argue—that’s a lot of it. It’s not always fun.”

Claire: "'Fun’ is the wrong word. So, as someone who has worked with celebrities and cleaned actual shit off the floor for them, am I to think that you all would do a similar thing for the Lady Gagas of the world? You know, like, what do you really love about the people that are nominated so much, that this is the best week of your life?”

Tanja: “I think there’s a romanticized idea that everyone in the industry is on equal footing, but that just isn’t true. There are people living million-dollar lifestyles with endless opportunities. We’re not equals in that way. We’re all songwriters, yeah, but we’re not all living in the same reality.

Sometimes there’s pressure to act like we’re all part of the same circle—that everything is super supportive and we’re part of something great—but sometimes it just doesn’t feel that way. Like if I walked into the studio right now and Sabrina Carpenter was there, she/her team wouldn’t be like, ‘Hey, sit down! Let’s write a song together, we’re all equals here!’ It’d be like, ‘Oh, who’s this fan girl?’ So I don’t know, I feel like let’s just be real, and let’s be open, and let’s be honest about it. It can be depressing. It’s keeping up with the Joneses.”

Reflecting on the Pursuit

So before you hit your last event and scream “BINGO!” (a ray of light beaming onto you and summoning you up to the big leagues), ponder with us: what did I gain from this pursuit?

Genuine connection? Evenings of dazzling performances? Maybe some well-earned visibility? A little dash of clout? A mix of it all? Hey girl, same.

If you felt left out after this past week, we did too—and we even attended the events! It’s hard to spend a week celebrating when it seems like the world is burning and you may never reach those same milestones. We encourage everyone to talk more about their awkward feelings. Let’s rally and cry out: ‘Be the change you wish to see at Grammy events!’ Let’s create an open space for the chaos we feel inside.

To those who hosted the events: thank you for giving us somewhere to go. To the Grammys: thank you for giving us something to dream about.

Thank you for reading. We hope we all win Grammys someday. In fact, we will see you there. Good luck to our comrades on this relentless pursuit.

And if you are part of the “I-don’t-want-a-Grammy-crew”? Cheers! Maybe you’ve figured something out.