The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, February 14, 2017 — 5

For 59th time, Grammy 
Awards ignore Black art

Exploring the ceremony’s history of racial underrepresentation 

On Sunday night, after almost 

twenty 
years 
of 
consistently 

committing mortal sins against 
the gods of hip-hop, the Recording 
Academy attempted to repent with 
the culture at the 59th Grammy 
Awards by decorating Chance 
the Rapper and his latest project, 
Coloring 
Book, 
which 
wasn’t 

distributed by a major record label, 
with golden trophies intended to 
symbolize a new understanding of, 
and appreciation for, underground 
music.

Having 
spent 
months 

campaigning to make his freely-
distributed 
music 
eligible 
for 

awards, Chance seemed to have 
all his wishes granted, professing 
unswerving 
thankfulness 
to 

the Lord before blessing the 
stage himself with a soulful 
performance. But for hip-hop at 
large, this meager victory is not 
enough: Iconic figures are still not 
being invited into the room.

In 1989, DJ Jazzy Jeff & 

the Fresh Prince won the first 
Grammy for rap music, but they, 
like all other nominees in the 
category, refused to attend the 
ceremony, as they felt overlooked 
by programmers’ decision not to air 
the award’s reception. Five years 
later, Tony Bennett took home the 
trophy for best album in the same 
year that revolutionary hip-hop 
classics illmatic, Ready to Die and 
Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik 
had been released.

In the early 2000s, breakout 

sensation 50 Cent lost Best New 
Artist to Evanescence and the 
Black Eyed Peas won best Rap Duo/
Group two-years running. Finally, 
most painfully, Lil Wayne’s Tha 
Carter III lost Album of the Year 
to a Robert Plant/Allison Krauss 
collaboration, a tough triumph that 
any reasonable person who owned 
a radio in 2007 should be willing to 
admit was a mistake.

Sure, 
the 
Grammy’s 
took 

some 
relevant 
steps 
towards 

taste-making 
this 
year, 
such 

as enlisting Anderson .Paak to 
perform alongside A Tribe Called 
Quest, as well as including De La 
Soul and ScHoolboy Q in its rap 
nominees. But still, Drake’s Views, 
an articulately-marketed package 
of music that’s been largely deemed 
stale by rap fans, was the genre’s 
only representation in the top 
category, and its singsong single, 
“Hotline Bling,” which is now 
eighteen-months-old, won best rap 
song.

Sure, Lil Yachty was on scene, 

having snuck himself into the 
commercial realm through a four-
times-platinum guest-feature on 
D.R.A.M.’s hit single, “Broccoli.” 
But Young Thug, Travis Scott, 
Gucci Mane, Lil Uzi Vert, 21 
Savage, Migos and Metro Boomin’, 
all populist champions who have 
indefinitely defined the most recent 
era in hip-hop, both sonically and 
aesthetically, don’t seem to have 
received their invitations to the 
ceremony, which still, despite all 
its shortcomings, labels itself with 
the notoriously cringe-worthy title: 
“Music’s Biggest Night.”

Two weeks ago, TMZ reported 

that neither Kanye West, Justin 
Bieber 
nor 
Drake 
would 
be 

attending the Grammy’s ceremony, 
following the leadership of cult-
icon Frank Ocean, who didn’t 
even submit his platinum-selling, 
critically-acclaimed LP Blonde for 
nominations.

“That 
institution 
certainly 

has nostalgic importance. It just 
doesn’t seem to be representing 
very well for people who come 
from where I come from, and hold 
down what I hold down,” Ocean 
said in a statement.

The news was particularly 

noteworthy as West, Bieber and 
Drake combined were nominated 
for twenty awards and, honestly, 
carry half of the internet’s attention 
around the world with them. But 
these male, pop figureheads don’t 
think the Grammys are getting 
things right, a complaint that’s 
too common to ignore, even after 
the Academy’s 59th attempt at 
awarding great art.

Last February, Kanye West sent 

out a string of tweets that trolled 
the Academy for its blatant lack of 
appreciation for Black culture.

“I think the Grammys are 

super important!!!” he began, 
diving deeper into his frustrations 
by noting, “I know so many cool 
artists whose hearts have been 
broken by the politics including 
mine,” before finally speaking on 
behalf of almost four decades of 
misunderstood rap brilliance.

“You like your Black people a 

certain way also. You wouldn’t 
have Future perform and that man 
owned the clubs last summer,” 
Kanye tweeted, going on to use the 
Atlanta-raised trap-rap sensation 
as a symbolic marty for the culture. 
“Has anyone at the Grammys 
ever heard “March Madness”??? 
Yes I have a problem with the 
Grammys,” he wrote, before finally 
proposing a perfectly reasonable, 
tangible solution: “We need to see 
Young Thug at the Grammys. Not 
just me and Jay in a suit.”

***

“All us artists here, we fucking 

adore you. You are our light, and 
the way you make me and my 
friends feel, the way you make my 
Black friends feel, is empowering, 
and you make them stand up for 
themselves,” Adele confessed to 
her apparent idol, Beyoncé, in the 
final moments of the 59th Grammy 
Awards on Sunday night.

This was during her acceptance, 

or, more accurately, denial speech 
for Album of the Year, an award 
that her 25 won over Beyonce’s 
Lemonade in what will surely be 
remembered as another time the 
Grammy’s 
chose 
conventional 

excellence 
over 
difficult, 

breathtaking, truly trailblazing 
Black art. Adele’s praise also came 
just moments before she snapped 
her trophy in half, seemingly to 
give part of it to Beyoncé.

As tough of a fact as it is may be 

for some to swallow, Kanye West’s 
February 2016 Twitter rant about 
the Academy bears significant 
weight.

“I feel the Grammy awarding 

system is way off and completely 
out 
of 
touch,” 
West 
wrote, 

something that even its most 
decorated victor of 2017 seems to 
agrees with. But of course, that was 
before he packed in some signature 
Kanye-isms, such as: “If I’m not at 
the show next year then there is no 
show.”

Yes, the Grammy ceremony 

happened, 
without 
Kanye 

West, Justin Bieber or Drake in 
attendance; 
without 
awarding 

Beyoncé her hard-earned Album 
of the Year trophy; without 
accrediting the most important 
hip-hop figures of the year; but 
once again, we’re unsure if the 
Academy’s opinions are relevant 
in the first place. Once again, its 
disconnection from the culture, 
the listeners, those who stay 

awake at night awaiting their 
favorite artists’ releases and line 
up for blocks when those stars’ 
whereabouts become known, is too 
apparent to ignore.

Sure, 
Chance 
the 
Rapper, 

underground 
champion 
and 

indie-darling, has been anointed 
a figurehead of the mainstream, 
having won Best New Artist and 
a couple of hip-hop Grammys 
without ever selling a single 
album. But it’s important that he 
had influential online outlets like 
Complex, illroots, Fake Shore 
Drive and Pitchfork pushing his 
music for years, and also had to 
reinvent himself into a family-
friendly, colorful rap figure before 
ending up on stage.

***

Chance the Rapper absolutely 

deserves all the success that he’s 
gotten; I don’t think there’s a single 
hip-hop head in America who 
would say otherwise. But right 
now, Chano is one in a million, a 
rare mixtape rapper who managed 
to maneuver his music onto official 
streaming platforms and establish 
a network of committed fans to 
campaign for his success. Finally, 
after every other tastemaker in 
the game deemed him an icon, 
the Academy did the inevitable 
by acknowledging his existence. 
They didn’t break down any walls 
though, if you think about it.

Chance 
the 
Rapper’s 
2017 

decoration is a victory for hip-
hop somewhat like Lauryn Hill’s 
in 1999, when she won Album of 
the Year with her classic LP The 
Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. It was 
a remarkable feat for the culture, 
but the Academy’s late realization 
that Ms. Hill was an iconic talent 
becomes less honorable when we 
consider that they awarded Celine 
Dion’s My Heart Will Go On the 
trophy for Album of the Year just 
two years prior, when The Fugee’s 
masterpiece The Score would’ve 
been eligible to claim the prize.

Right now, it’s fine to celebrate 

the victories of our favorite 
Chicago superhero, Lil Chano from 
79th, a.k.a. Chance the Rapper. It’s 
also okay to watch his Coloring-
Book-mash-up 
performance 

on repeat all day, then proceed 
to replay the album all week, 
constantly realizing you missed 
many important details on all of 
your former listens. But it’s equally, 
if not more, important to mourn 
Beyonce’s devastating loss. It’s 
equally, if not more, important to 
keep hoping that next year will be 
different.

Until a ceremony can finally 

conclude 
without 
a 
winner 

apologizing to the populist-elect, 
the Academy has work to do. I 
won’t allow them, or the mass 
media, or even Chance the Rapper 
himself, to claim their recognition 
of one, single mixtape rapper as 
sufficient 
acknowledgement 
of 

worldwide scene.

Sure, the Academy squeezed 

Lee “Q” O’Denat, who founded 
the 
vital 
online 
platform 

WorldStarHipHip.com and passed 
away this month, into its annual 
eulogy reel, but they still left out 
Shawty Lo. Sure, they’ve now 
declared freely-distributed music 
eligible for awards, but Chance the 
Rapper hardly had time to shout 
out “DJ DRAMA for doing it first” 
before the music cut his speech off. 
What about DJ Esco, DJ Whoo 
Kid and the rest of the unawarded 
figureheads?

I, much like Kanye West, want 

to see Young Thug at the Grammys. 
Here’s to hoping next year that 
might become a reality.

SALVATORE DIGIOIA

Daily Arts Writer

NYFW Report: Jeremy 
Scott’s ‘Cult of Personality’

At Jeremy Scott’s fall-winter 

2017 show, heaven and hell rode 
in tandem.

Though 
the 
overflowing 

venue space could have doubled 
as Satan’s living room, the 
presence of Jesus was palpable. 
I don’t mean that in a coercive, 
Mike Pence’s America type of 
way; JC’s face was plastered 
across look after look in a style 
reminiscent of the romantic 
era. His eyes followed you from 
the front of Gigi Hadid’s pants. 
Juxtaposed against vixen-like 
cheetah prints and chunky 
dominatrix boots, the angel 
and devil had their first shared 
moment of glory since their 
interactions on the shoulders of 
Kronk in “The Emperor’s New 
Groove.”

The 
good-versus-evil 

symbolism became a bit more 
nuanced toward the show’s 
latter end. A dress in an 

overtly innocent, babydoll cut 
touted “Sex is Cute” in large, 
equally 
loopy 
lettering. 
A 

feathered showgirl headdress 
was paired alongside a crew-
neck 
sweatshirt 
fit 
for 
a 

kindergartener. 
Supermodel 

offspring 
Anna 
Cleveland 

sported 
a 
fringed 
skirt, 

reminiscent of the ever-sinful 
1920s, juxtaposed against a 
pure white cape emblazoned 
with angel wings. Soon, the 
looks appeared to exclusively 
focus on this moral conflict’s 
place in the United States. 
Leather and velvet pieces in 
bright, childlike hues served 
both as an emblem of American 
excess and an appreciation of 
the genuine liberty to which the 
USA lays claim. Old western-
style music (banjos, deep male 
drawl and the like) blared 
through the speakers, followed 
by Depeche Mode’s “Personal 
Jesus” 
on 
full 
blast. 
The 

production’s final moments, 
including the shimmering “As 
Seen on TV” tank, felt nearly 

satirical. 

Perhaps 
the 
paradox 

presented in Scott’s “Cult of 
Personality” mimics that of 
our country. Since our very 
beginnings, we have claimed 
to support the honest and 
good over all else. And yet 
here we are, with a hateful 
businessman at the helm of a 
ship built by those he hopes to 
eject. It comes as no surprise, 
then, that members of Scott’s 
show staff were asked to wear 
custom tee shirts that read 
“Our Voice is the Only Thing 
that Will Protect Us” on the 
front, and listed the names and 
phone numbers of each state’s 
Senators on the back.

Sure, the metaphor of the 

up and the down is a bit more 
simple than what’s going on 
in our nation, but there is 
something to be said about a 
man who can say this much 
through his clothes. Hats off to 
you, Jeremy, and to the angels 
and devils living on all of our 
shoulders.

TESS GARCIA
Senior Arts Editor

STYLE REVIEW

CBS

Beyoncé performing at the 2017 Grammy Awards

JEREMY SCOTT

Scott’s New York Fashion Week collection

‘Wick’ turns action to art

SUMMIT ENTERTAINMENT

Keanu Reeves as John Wick

Sequel delivers and shows potential to expand the franchise

“John Wick: Chapter Two” does 

almost everything a good sequel 
should. It quickly differentiates 
itself from the first chapter, yet 
still recalls what made the original 
film such an exhilarating ride. 
It’s darker and more complex 
than its predecessor, and it uses 
the larger budget granted to it by 
the previous film’s box office and 
critical success to expand its story 
and bring it to new locales that, 
of course, make for spectacular 
stages for the bread and butter of 
the film: the action.

And on that account, “John 

Wick: Chapter Two” delivers. 
Oh, does it deliver. Each action 
scene, from beginning to end, is 
distinct and memorable all on its 
own — though they are still better 
viewed in sequence, the better to 
appreciate the sense of escalation 
from one to the next both in terms 
of scale and the sheer luridness of 
it all. It’s hard to choose a favorite 
simply because they’re all made to 
the same breathtaking degree of 
excellence, though the many fights 
between Wick (Keanu Reeves, 
“The Matrix”) and bodyguard 
Cassian (Common, “Selma”) earn 
points for brutality, creativity and 
perfectly displayed dry wit.

As he did with the original “John 

Wick,” stuntman-turned-director 
Chad Stahelski uses his training to 
turn action into an art form. Again 

utilizing the “Gun-Fu” approach 
to shootouts that the original 
pioneered, each action scene is 
a 
meticulously 
choreographed 

marvel that keeps the level of 
excitement high for the entire film. 
They are cut and shot so perfectly 
that it would be shocking if the 
film as a whole isn’t remembered 
as one of the best action films of 
the year.

Of course, even 

when bullets aren’t 
being traded by the 
dozen, “John Wick: 
Chapter Two” is 
engaging due to 
the simple pleasure 
of time spent in 
this 
cinematic 

world. The original 
constructed a world 
of respectable assassins bound by a 
strange set of bylaws and manners, 
and proved that nothing beats two 
men in immaculate suits buying 
each other drinks and talking 
about how they’ll kill each other. 
Here, audiences are given more 
of a look into how this world is 
governed with a trip to Rome that 
dominates much of the first half. 
The wider scale that results makes 
“Chapter Two” more enjoyable 
than its predecessor, even as it 
occasionally loses track of its plot.

Within 
the 
geopolitical 

thrills and networks of homeless 
assassins, the script from Derek 
Kolstad (“The Package”) never 
loses sight of its characters. John’s 
struggle to move beyond his past 

and prove to himself he can be 
more than a killer is familiar, but 
Reeves’ alternatingly desperate 
and dead-eyed performance — as 
well as the character’s humanizing 
love of dogs — conveys it in a unique 
and relatable way. Ian McShane 
(“Pirates of the Caribbean: On 
Stranger Tides”) returns as one of 
the most spinoff-able characters 

in 
modern 

action films, the 
delightfully genteel 
manager of a ritzy 
hotel for assassins, 
and he is thankfully 
given 
more 
to 

do than in the 
original, including 
a part in the most 
emotionally intense 
scene of the film.

There’s a sense while watching 

both “John Wick” films, that 
the character has a franchise 
future waiting for him — that 
Wick could hypothetically live 
on through the years and even 
outstay Reeves in the role, like 
an American James Bond raised 
to the power of Jason Bourne. 
Every corner of the neon-tinged, 
testosterone-fueled world feels 
as if it conceals more stories 
to tell, more characters to 
unfurl, more action set pieces 
to unleash. A third film has 
already been announced, with 
more potentially to follow, and if 
they are to the standard the first 
two films have set, we should all 
consider ourselves very lucky.

JEREMIAH VANDERHELM

Daily Arts Writer

“John Wick: 

Chapter Two”

Ann Arbor 20 + 
IMAX, Quality 16

Summit 

Entertainment

FILM REVIEW

MUSIC NOTEBOOK

