Award shows know f*ck all about metal... but does it matter?
There's been plenty of award show discourse this week, but I've been thinking about something else...
It’s that time of the year again, folks. It’s time for the stars to choose between Dolce & Gabbana and Versace and go and pick up a trophy. The Grammys have just happened. The BRITs are taking place this weekend. And, naturally, the Discourse has been in full flow, which is about as surprising as it being cold in February.
I’m seeing plenty of talk about Beyonce, because we’re all talking about Beyonce, specifically that she’d been robbed, once again, for the Album Of The Year title. I’m not the person to write about this topic - it’s not my area of expertise, and plenty of other writers will have things to say about that. The thought in the back of my busy little brain, rather, relates more to my home court: rock and metal. Turn away from the main virtual town square on Twitter to the enclave in the corner where the goths and greebs chat among themselves, and the sound of the discourse changes.
Growing up, I’d watch the BRITs year in, year out. When my emo phase kick-started at the age of about 14, I was no longer interested because very few of the bands who ruled my world were nominated. Not a fat lot has changed. Indeed, I suspect this is because many of the major mainstream award shows’ definitions of rock music are in sore need of updating. Or, at the very least, they’re wildly different to the definitions of those who are fans - it goes without saying that this means that Coldplay and Imagine Dragons don’t count. The BRITs’ new habit of grouping rock and alternative in the same category means the definition of what’s representing rock can be muddied - or it can push out the rock bands altogether in favour of larger indie bands. (The same complaint has been made about grouping pop and R&B in the same category, which thereby has led to R&B not being as well represented as it could be).
Nonetheless, it means it’s rare to see much of a crossover between, say, bands I might write about for Kerrang! and the bands who get nominated for big shiny trophies. The GRAMMYs get it a little bit better, with devout categories for rock and metal that do showcase more modern, exciting names (Poppy, Code Orange and I Prevail have all been nominated in recent years), but they’re often passed over in favour of the old guard. There were also two glaring instances of the voting panel clearly seeming rather out of touch - firstly, by putting Turnstile in the metal category (as wonderful as it was to see them be nominated), and secondly, by nominating Machine Gun Kelly for anything at all. Alright, the latter’s more of a personal bugbear, but if I played that album when I open my fridge the milk would curdle. It commits both of music’s cardinal sins at once - it’s both boring and cringeworthy.
Almost every year, the Mercury Prize forgets British rock and metal exist - and considering the rude health of the scene right now, I daresay it’s impolite, particularly since the only criterion for choosing the nominees is musical merit. They discard the usual metrics that other awards like the BRITs use; they can afford to think outside the box, and yet it’s as if they believe that metal music is just noise. I’ve seen suggestions that albums such as Loathe’s I Let It In And It Took Everything, Svalbard’s When I Die, Will I Get Better? and Architects’ For Those That Wish To Exist could have all been worthy nominees in recent years, and all of these I wholeheartedly agree with. I’ll chuck my own suggestions out there too - how about A.A. Williams, with last year’s exquisite As The Moon Rests? They’ve missed a trick by overlooking Bob Vylan’s incendiary The Price of Life as well, which genuinely feels like one of the most important records of the decade so far.
But how much does this matter, that our little riff-filled corner of the world isn’t getting a look-in on a mainstream stage? Some people will just not care - we know the scene is thriving; is that really that important for the rest of the world to know too? There’s also the continuing debate over how relevant award shows are nowadays, particularly in light of the outdated metrics some use to choose nominees. (Laura Snapes wrote a fab piece about it in The Guardian, which you can read here). It’s fair enough.
I, however, love it when a band from our world makes a dent in the mainstream. It makes me feel, no pun intended, seen, just as it did when Bring Me The Horizon ended up on Ant & Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway in 2016, tasked with teaching a fan’s nan how to scream. (Just me?) I want the rest of the world to know who these amazing artists are - and they deserve to be known just as much. Maybe this also stems from my frustration when I talk to people about rock music and they assume that what I mean by rock music is anything pre-Nirvana. As my oft-repeated refrain goes, rock music did not die with Kurt Cobain.
When Nova Twins were nominated for the Mercury last year with Supernova, my heart swelled. Finally, finally, the industry had opened its eyes and ears to how exciting rock music in this country is. When they went on to be nominated for two BRITs, it felt, to me, like a victory for the whole scene, and meant that we were finally getting a look-in. I dearly hope they aren’t one-offs. Indeed, there are plenty more bands like them who perform well critically and commercially, who have amassed rabid fan bases and sold out big rooms - Enter Shikari, Architects, Bob Vylan - who are waiting for their flowers. They are there. They’re being heard - but not by the people who put together the shortlists.
Sometimes, it’s possible to get a warm, fuzzy feeling from listening to an underground band and feeling like they’re your - and a small underground community’s - little secret. I know the feeling. It makes the band, as well as you, feel special. Some secrets, however, aren’t meant to be kept. The gems of the underground deserve to be seen, and they deserve to be recognised, even in a symbolic way with a TV appearance and a trophy for the mantelpiece. (And also, The 1975 have had their fair share of them already. Let someone else have one).