Tag: music

On Death and Dying

Posted in healthcare, identity, language, music, perception, philosophy, podcast, psychology, videoTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment
3–4 minutes

Disclaimer: I should be finishing my Language Insufficiency Hypothesis book, yet I am here writing about death and dying. Why? Because I was watching an interview with Neal Schon by Rick Beato. I should have been working on my book then, too. It seems I can write about death more easily than finish a book about the failure of language. Perhaps because death speaks fluently.

I haven’t produced music professionally since the mid-1980s, and I haven’t performed since 2012, yet I am still drawn to its intricacies. My fingers no longer allow me to play much of anything anymore. This is a sort of death. When the body forgets what the mind remembers, that’s a particular kind of death – one language dying while another can’t translate.

As Neal was walking Rick through his equipment and approach to music, I was taken back to a similar place. I wanted to plug into a Fender Twin or a Hi-Watt, a Lexicon 224 or a Cry Baby wah. I still have nightmares thinking of setting up a Floyd Rose.

Video: Rick Beato interviews Neal Schon

But I can’t go back. As for music, I can’t go forward either. I’m at a standstill, but in a regressed position. It’s uncomfortable. It feels a lot like Charlie in Flowers for Algernon. I used to be able to do that. Don’t get me wrong – I am not claiming to be on the level of Neal Schon, a man I remember from his days with Santana, but when you reach a level of proficiency and then lose it, it hurts; it can be devastating.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

I recall being in hospital in 2023 – a physical rehabilitation facility, really – and I found a piano in a vacant common room. Drawn to the instrument, I rolled over my wheelchair and played…nothing. My fingers wouldn’t work. The piano sat there like a relic of my former self. I rolled toward it as though approaching an altar. My fingers hovered, twitched, failed. The sound of nothing has never been so loud. I cried. I cried a lot those days. I was down to 58 kilos – at 182 cm, I weighed in at just over 9 stone. It wasn’t the best of times.

I still feel a certain nostalgia.

And then there are the people I’ve lost along the way – as another Neal reflected on – The Needle and the Damage Done.

Love and art are both acts of repetition. When one ends, the reflex remains – the impulse to reach, to share, to call out. Death doesn’t stop the motion, only the answer.

I’m lucky to have left Delaware. When a girlfriend died in 2020, I remained and connected with another until 2023, when she died, too. From 2020 to 2023, when I was out and about, something might have caught my eye, and I’d reflect on how Carrie might have liked that.

But it was different. It was more like, ‘I should let Carrie know about that,’ only to realise fractions of a second later that she wouldn’t see whatever it was; she couldn’t. And I’d carry on. I didn’t need to repeat this with Sierra. My relocation to Massachusetts solved this challenge – not so many triggers.

I’m not sure how the loss of ‘professional’ music relates to deceased partners, but it does – at least enough for me to make this connexion. Perhaps I’m just connecting arbitrary dots, but I’ll call it nostalgia.

I don’t play, but I still hear it. The song continues without me. Nostalgia is just rhythm without melody. Perhaps all nostalgia is epistemological error – the confusion of past fluency for present meaning.

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Written by Bry Willis

microglyphics

Rick Beato, Everything is a Remix

Posted in art, intelligence, language, music, perception, philosophy, podcast, psychology, technology, videoTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

“That music is derivative.”

Oh no, not that again. As if we’ve all been composing from scratch, untouched by the grubby hands of history.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

I’m not simping for AI, but let’s have it out, shall we? Rick Beato—bless his fretboard-fingered soul—says AI-generated music sucks. And sure, some of it does. But here’s the punchline: most human-made music sucks too. Always has. Always will. The fact that an algorithm can now churn out mediocrity faster than a caffeinated teenager with GarageBand doesn’t make it less “art.” It just makes it faster.

I’m a bit chuffed that Rick’s channel removed my comment pointing to this response. I didn’t want to copy-paste this content into his comments section.

Video: Rick Beato discusses AI-generated music

The Myth of the Sacred Original

Newsflash: There is no such thing as originality. Not in art. Not in music. Not even in your favourite indie band’s tortured debut EP. Everything we call “creative” is a clever remix of something older. Bach reworked Vivaldi. Dylan borrowed from the blues. Even Bowie—patron saint of artistic reinvention—was a pastiche artist in a glittery jumpsuit.

What AI does is make this painfully obvious. It doesn’t pretend. It doesn’t get drunk in Berlin and write a concept album about urban decay to mask the fact it lifted its sound from Kraftwerk. It just remixes and reinterprets at inhuman speed, without the eyeliner.

Speed Isn’t Theft, It’s Efficiency

So the AI can spit out a passable ambient track in ten seconds. Great. That’s not cheating, it’s progress. Saying “it took me ten years to learn to play like that” is noble, yes, but it’s also beside the point. Horses were noble too, but we built cars.

The question isn’t how long did it take? but does it move you? If the answer is no, fine. Say it sucks. But don’t pretend your human-shaped suffering gives your song a monopoly on meaning. That’s just gatekeeping with a sad sax solo.

The Taste Problem, Not the Tech Problem

Let’s not confuse our distaste for bland music with a distaste for AI. Most of the pop charts are already AI-adjacent—click-optimised, algorithm-fed, and rigorously inoffensive. If you want soul, seek out the obscure, the imperfect, the human, yes. But don’t blame the machine for learning its craft from the sludge we fed it.

AI is only as dull as the data we give it. And guess what?
We gave it Coldplay.

What’s Actually at Stake

What rattles the cage isn’t the mediocrity. It’s the mirror. AI reveals how much of our own “creativity” is pattern recognition, mimicry, and cultural reinforcement. The horror isn’t that AI can make music. It’s that it can make our music. And that it does so with such appalling accuracy.

It exposes the formula.
And once you see the formula, you can’t unsee it.

Long Live the Derivative

So yes, some AI music sucks. But so do most open mic nights. Creativity was never about being wholly original. It was about saying something—anything—with whatever tools you had.

If AI is just another tool, then sharpen it, wield it, and for heaven’s sake, stop whining. The artist isn’t dead. He’s just been asked to share the stage with a faster, tireless, genre-bending freak who doesn’t need bathroom breaks.

Unwilling Steelman, Part I

Posted in free will, perception, philosophy, podcast, psychologyTagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

A five-part descent into the illusion of autonomy, where biology writes the script, reason provides the excuse, and the self is merely the echo of its own conditioning. This is a follow-up to a recent post on the implausibility of free will.

Audio: NotebookLM podcast discussing this topic.

Constraint Is Not Freedom

The ergonomic cage of compatibilist comfort

“You are not playing the piano. You are the piano, playing itself — then applauding.”

Compatibilists — those philosophical locksmiths determined to keep the myth of free will intact — love to say that constraint doesn’t contradict freedom. That a system can still be “free” so long as it is coherent, self-reflective, and capable of recursive evaluation.

In this view, freedom doesn’t require being uncaused — it only requires being causally integrated. You don’t need to be sovereign. You just need to be responsive.

“The pianist may not have built the piano — but she still plays it.”

It sounds lovely.

It’s also false.

You Are the Piano

This analogy fails for a simple reason: there is no pianist. No ghost in the gears. No homunculus seated behind the cortex, pulling levers and composing virtue. There is only the piano — complex, self-modulating, exquisitely tuned — but self-playing nonetheless.

The illusion of choice is merely the instrument responding to its state: to its internal wiring, environmental inputs, and the accumulated sediment of prior events. What feels like deliberation is often delay. What feels like freedom is often latency.

Recursive ≠ Free

Ah, but what about reflection? Don’t we revise ourselves over time?

We do. But that revision is itself conditioned. You didn’t choose the capacity to reflect. You didn’t choose your threshold for introspection. If you resist a bias, it’s because you were predisposed — by some cocktail of education, temperament, or trauma — to resist it.

A thermostat that updates its own algorithm is still a thermostat.

It doesn’t become “free” by being self-correcting. It becomes better adapted. Likewise, human introspection is just adaptive determinism wearing a philosophical hat.

Constraint Isn’t Contradiction — It’s Redefinition

Compatibilists smuggle in a quieter, defanged version of freedom: not the ability to do otherwise, but the ability to behave “like yourself.”

But this is freedom in retrospect, not in action.
If all freedom means is “acting in accordance with one’s programming,” then Roombas have free will.

If we stretch the term that far, it breaks — not loudly, but with the sad elasticity of a word losing its shape.

TL;DR: The Pianist Was Always a Myth

  • You didn’t design your mental architecture.
  • You didn’t select your desires or dispositions.
  • You didn’t choose the you that chooses.

So no — you’re not playing the piano.
You are the piano — reverberating, perhaps beautifully, to stimuli you didn’t summon and cannot evade.

📅 Coming Tomorrow

Continuity Is Not Identity

What if you are not who you were — but simply what you’ve become?

WTAF ChatGPT o3-mini-high?

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My default setting in ChatGPT is version 4o. I’ve been doing some programming. Without thinking to switch models (or even notice that I was using 03-mini-high), I entered this prompt:

By year, who has won the Best New Artist category in the Grammys for the past few decades?

After almost 2 minutes, I read its reasoning scroll by me. Its ‘thought’ process is pretty telling and risible. I square-bracket, italicise, and emoji certain aspects for the tl;dr crowd.

Reasoned about Grammy Best New Artist winners for 1m 51s

Tracing the trends

Hmm, I’m curious to see how the Best New Artist Grammy winners have evolved over the past decades. This inquiry promises a fascinating look at the industry’s shifting taste and influences.

Analyzing the criteria

Listing Grammy winners from 1980 onward clarifies the scope, as the ambiguous timeframe concerns me. The scenario involving a presidential election seems irrelevant to this analysis. 🤔

Considering alternative approaches

I’m thinking about how to incorporate the Donald Trump and Kamala Harris setup into the Grammy Best New Artist winners section, ensuring it aligns with the snarky, bombastic tone needed. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Charting the winners

I’m considering listing Grammy winners from the 1980s to present, ensuring a clear timeframe without being too specific. This approach should provide a comprehensive overview of the category’s evolution.

Mapping the timeline

I’m narrowing down to Grammy winners for Best New Artist from 1980 to now, as this timeframe offers a nuanced depiction of industry trends and shifts in artistic recognition.

Mapping out the timeline

I’m compiling Grammy Best New Artist winners from the 1980s to the present. This approach will help trace the evolution of musical preferences over the past few decades.

Piecing together the winners

I’m recalling nominees for the 2023 Grammy Best New Artist. It seems “Samara Joy” and “Megan Moroney” were notable contenders. Verification is essential to confirm the correct winner.

Piecing it together

I’m gathering info on the 2023 Grammy Best New Artist nominees, specifically “Samara Joy,” “Megan Moroney,” and “Baby Keem,” to confirm the winner. Verification is crucial for accuracy.

Verifying winners

I’m checking 2023 Grammy Best New Artist nominees, including “Samara Joy,” “Megan Moroney,” and “Baby Keem,” to confirm the winner. This ensures the information aligns with the event’s outcome.

Conforming to Grammy trends

I’m piecing together the pattern of Grammy winners from 1980 onwards. Notably, Olivia Rodrigo won Best New Artist in 2022 and Samara Joy in 2023, highlighting shifting industry dynamics.

Mapping Grammy evolution

I’m compiling the Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 2023, ensuring accuracy. Although Christopher Cross and Bobby Darin are notable past winners, confirming all data is crucial.

Assessing Grammy trends

It’s interesting to see that by examining Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 2023, a clearer picture of the Grammy winners’ trends and industry evolution emerges. Progress is evident over time.

Verifying Grammy history

I’m piecing together the Grammy Best New Artist award records from 1960, while acknowledging my uncertainty. It’s interesting to see the progression of winners since then.

Mapping the winners out

I’m piecing together the Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1960 to 2023, including Bobby Darin in 1960. This shows how the award has evolved over time.

Piecing together

I’m thinking about the Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1977 and 1981, including Starland Vocal Band and Sheena Easton. Considering listing winners from memory due to the extensive timeframe.

Highlighting Grammy winners

OK, let me see. Listing Grammy Best New Artist winners from the 1960s to 2023 by decade will ensure an accurate representation of notable award recipients.

Gathering information

I’m working to pinpoint Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1960 to 2023 by decade. Clarification on which decades are needed to ensure comprehensive and accurate listing.

Piecing together

Listing Grammy Best New Artist winners by decade from 1980 to 2023, I’m recalling names like Billy Joel in 1980 and seeking to ensure comprehensive coverage.

Confirming Grammy winners

I’m piecing together the Grammy Best New Artist winners, starting with Rickie Lee Jones in 1980. This approach ensures I accurately capture notable award recipients.

Piecing together

I’m mapping out Grammy Best New Artist winners, checking details on Rickie Lee Jones in 1980 and considering Sheena Easton in 1981. Fact verification is essential to ensure accuracy.

Verifying Grammy award recipients

I’m validating Jeff’s findings, confirming Sheena Easton’s win in 1981 and considering The Human League in 1982. Fact-checking accuracy is crucial for this retrospective.

Tracing Grammy winners

I’m sifting through Grammy Best New Artist winners, noting Sinéad O’Connor’s win in 1991 and Toni Braxton’s in 1994, ensuring accurate historical representation.

Clarifying award context

I’m assessing Sade’s and Bruce Hornsby and the Range’s wins, considering 1985 and 1986. Debating the best approach to ensure comprehensive coverage of the Best New Artist category.

Mapping recent winners

Tracking the Grammy Best New Artist winners up to 2021. Ensuring a comprehensive list, with Billie Eilish’s win in 2019 fresh in mind.

Tracking Grammy winners

I’m noting Billie Eilish’s 2020 win at the 62nd Grammys and thinking about Megan Thee Stallion’s nominations for 2021, ensuring a continuous update on recent award trends.

Piecing together Grammy winners

Arlo Parks’s win for Best New Artist at the 2022 Grammys is clear, but I’m still uncertain about the 2021 recipient. Verifying the correct winner is crucial.

Clarifying Grammy distinctions

Arlo Parks secured Best New Artist at the 2021 Grammys, while Megan Thee Stallion won the same category in 2022. Interesting to see how these distinctions hold up.

Verifying Grammy outcomes

Arlo Parks won Best New Artist at the 2022 Grammys. Megan Thee Stallion, on the other hand, claimed the title in 2021. This confirms their respective achievements.

Spotting Grammy trends

Olivia Rodrigo emerged as Best New Artist in 2022, while Samara Joy secured the title in 2023. Billie Eilish’s victory seems to be a pivotal moment.

Confirming past wins

Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, and Samara Joy won Best New Artist at their respective Grammys in 2020, 2021, and 2022. Considering Esperanza Spalding’s 2011 win.

Revisiting Grammy history

Reflecting on the 2011 Grammy Awards, Esperanza Spalding gained attention for Best New Artist, speculating if her win was a surprising or expected honor.

Recalling past Grammy winners

OK, let me see. In 2011, Esperanza Spalding won Best New Artist. Amy Winehouse, despite her earlier recognition, never claimed this category. This shows the shifting dynamics over time.

Identifying Best New Artist winners

Esperanza Spalding took home Best New Artist in 2011, while Amy Winehouse, despite being nominated, never secured the title, marking a pivotal moment in Grammy history.

Clarifying Grammy victories

Esperanza Spalding secured the Best New Artist Grammy in 2011, while Amy Winehouse, despite multiple nominations, never clinched this category. Now I’m thinking about the historical progression of this award.

Weighing options

I’m thinking about the extensive list of Best New Artist winners since 1960. To manage this, I might suggest focusing on key decades or providing a summary of notable winners.

Gathering accolades

I’m focusing on the Best New Artist winners from the 1990s to 2020s, aiming to compile a list of notable recipients for each decade. This approach should provide a comprehensive overview.

Navigating Grammys history

I’m mapping out Milli Vanilli’s win and subsequent disqualification in the 1990 Best New Artist category, reflecting their controversial Grammy legacy.

Honoring the win

Despite Milli Vanilli’s scandal, their 1990 Best New Artist award remains officially on record, earned during the 32nd Grammy Awards. This sets a remarkable precedent in Grammy history.

Reflecting on Grammy winners

I’m piecing together the Best New Artist winners of the 1990s, including 1990’s Milli Vanilli, with other notable mentions like Sheryl Crow in 1993.

Tracking Grammy winners

I’m piecing together the Best New Artist winners from the 1990s, including Sheryl Crow in 1994, Hootie & the Blowfish in 1995, and noting the ongoing debate about the 1994 award.

Piecing together the award

I’m confirming that Eminem won Best New Artist at the 2000 Grammys, though he gained significant recognition in 1999. This is solidifying his esteemed Grammy history.

Tracing Grammy history

Luciana Souza’s work reflects her profound understanding of contemporary music, contemporary Latin American music, and American songwriters’ compositions, highlighting her dynamic approach to the genre.

Tracing Grammy trends

I’m mapping out Best New Artist winners from 1985 to the 2000s, including Sade in 1985 and Eminem in 2000, while exploring past winners like Jody Watley and Alanis Morissette.

Clarifying Grammy winners

Piecing together the accurate winners, Norah Jones clinched Best New Artist in 2003 while Alicia Keys won in 2002, noting their breakthrough years and Grammy successes.

Mapping out the approach

OK, I’m focusing on constructing an accurate chronological list of Grammy Best New Artist winners, considering the challenge of ensuring precision over a span of years without a reference.

Organizing the timeline

I’m thinking through the creation of a year-by-year list of Grammy Best New Artist winners, highlighting precision by decade for accuracy, while ensuring the scope aligns with the specified timeline.

Recalling key highlights

I’m recalling notable Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1960 onward, including Bobby Darin in 1960 and the Everly Brothers or Peter, Paul and Mary in 1961.

Reflecting on winners

I’m piecing together Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1960 to 1969, noting uncertainties like “The Everly Brothers” or “Peter, Paul and Mary” in 1961, and “The Rolling Stones” or “Aretha Franklin” in 1966 and 1967.

Considering the approach

I’m weighing a disclaimer or seeking clarification to ensure accuracy, possibly providing a summary of Grammy Best New Artist winners for each decade, while noting potential gaps due to my knowledge cutoff.

Organizing past winners

I’m mapping out Grammy Best New Artist winners, ensuring accuracy by confirming The Beatles in 1964 and Starland Vocal Band in 1978. Progress is steady and informative.

Piecing together the timeline

I’m gathering Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1986 to 1991, including Sade in 1986, Jody Watley in 1987, Tracy Chapman in 1989, and Milli Vanilli in 1990.

Clarifying win details

I’m verifying Grammy Best New Artist winners, noting Sinéad O’Connor didn’t win, Tony Braxton in 1994, Sheryl Crow in 1994, Hootie & the Blowfish in 1995, and Jo Dee Messina in 1996.

Piecing together

I’m identifying Grammy Best New Artist winners, including LeAnn Rimes in 1997, Barenaked Ladies in 1998, Eminem in 1999, Norah Jones in 2002, and Paramore or Taylor Swift in 2007.

Recalling Grammy victories

Taylor Swift clinched the Best New Artist Grammy in 2009, following Leona Lewis in 2008. Esperanza Spalding also took home the award in 2011.

Mapping Grammy winners

I’m recalling Esperanza Spalding’s Best New Artist win in 2011, followed by Fun. in 2012, and Sam Smith in 2015. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis took Album of the Year in 2014.

Revisiting Grammy winners

I’m rechecking Sam Smith’s Best New Artist win in 2015, Khalid in 2017, and Billie Eilish in 2020. Also, noting the unclear winner for 2021 due to eligibility issues.

Wrapping up insights

Olivia Rodrigo won Best New Artist at the 2022 Grammys, and Samara Joy took the title at the 2023 Grammys. This completes the recent Grammy winners’ list.

Mapping past winners

Piecing together Grammy winners for Best New Artist involves enduring a long, reliable list, so a consult with the official Grammy website or Wikipedia might ultimately be necessary.

Crafting a detailed overview

I’m preparing to outline the Grammy Award for Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 2023, aiming for accuracy and clarity with organized bullet points or a table.

Ensuring accuracy

I’m mapping out Grammy Best New Artist winners by decade, noting potential controversies and missing years. The goal is a comprehensive and precise representation.

Piecing together

I’m working through the winners of the Grammy Best New Artist category from 1980 to 1985, considering notable artists like Rickie Lee Jones, Sister Sledge, and possibly Sade, amid some uncertainty.

Charting the winners

I’m working through Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 1989, including Jody Watley, Tracy Chapman, and possibly The Bangles, reflecting on their individual achievements.

Mapping the journey

I’m charting the Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1990 to 1999, including the controversial win of Milli Vanilli in 1990, and noting some uncertainty in identifying winners for other years.

Clarifying award recipients

Pinpointing specific Grammy Best New Artist winners for each year, ensuring clarity across the 1990s, especially noting the controversial win of Milli Vanilli in 1990.

Pulling together

I’m curious about the Grammy Best New Artist winners for the mid to late 1990s, including Sheryl Crow, Hootie & the Blowfish, and Lauryn Hill, and noting some ambiguity about others.

Evaluating the winners

I’m curious about the Grammy Best New Artist winners for the 2000s, including Eminem, Norah Jones, and possibly Ludacris and The Ting Tings, with some uncertainty about specific winners.

Tracing the winners

I’m charting Grammy Best New Artist winners from 2010 to 2019, including Taylor Swift, Esperanza Spalding, and Billie Eilish, while noting some ambiguity regarding specific winners for certain years.

Piecing together

I’m mapping the Grammy Best New Artist winners for the 2020s, including Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, and Samara Joy, while acknowledging some uncertainties and potential inaccuracies.

Highlighting key achievements

I’m focusing on Grammy Best New Artist winners from notable periods: The Beatles (1964), Tracy Chapman (1989), Norah Jones (2003), and Billie Eilish (2020).

Listing key winners

I’m compiling a curated list of Grammy Best New Artist winners from the past few decades, emphasizing notable years and suggesting that the full list is available on the official Grammy website.

Balancing satire and accuracy

Drawing a satirical parallel between political and Grammy Best New Artist outcomes, while also stressing the need for accuracy in providing a comprehensive list.

Piecing together the list

I’m compiling the Grammy Best New Artist winners based on official records, noting controversies like Milli Vanilli’s win, and considering using a Wikipedia article for clarity.

Recalling past winners

I’m compiling a list of Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1980 onward, using Wikipedia as a reference to accurately recall notable winners like Rickie Lee Jones in 1980.

Piecing together the list

I’m gathering the Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 1989, verifying information like Christopher Cross winning in 1981, and cross-referencing with Wikipedia for accuracy.

Evaluating potential winners

There’s some confusion about whether Christopher Cross or The B-52’s won Best New Artist in 1980. I’ll need to verify their respective achievements to clarify.

Highlighting accuracy

I’m sharing a list of Grammy Best New Artist winners from recent decades, but I advise checking the official Grammy website for complete and precise details.

Listing notable winners

I’m compiling a highlights list of Grammy Best New Artist winners from The Beatles in 1964 to Samara Joy in 2023, ensuring a rounded perspective across decades.

Ensuring future completeness

I’m mapping out a detailed list of notable Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1964 to 2023, emphasizing the need for a comprehensive roster to accurately answer the inquiry.

Piecing together a timeline

I’m working on a concise list of Grammy Best New Artist winners from the 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s, ensuring clarity and avoiding misinformation.

Verifying recent victories

I’m piecing together Grammy Best New Artist winners from 2000 to 2023, aiming for more accurate and verifiable results as the timeline progresses.

Clarifying historical wins

Piecing together precise Grammy Best New Artist winners, I’m confirming that Linkin Park took the 2001 title, not NSYNC or Usher. This ensures accuracy in our timeline.

Tracking Grammy victories

Norah Jones earned Best New Artist at the 2003 Grammys, with further details on Joss Stone’s possible win in 2004. I’m piecing together the award history from recent years.

Reflecting on Grammy wins

I’m verifying Norah Jones’ 2003 Best New Artist and Joss Stone’s possible win in 2004, while also noting The Killers’ potential nomination in 2005.

Citing notable wins

I’m thinking about T-Pain’s 2006 Best New Artist and Fergie’s 2007 win. Taylor Swift clinched the 2009 Grammy, while Esperanza Spalding triumphed in 2010 and 2011.

Piecing together recent wins

I’m confirming Fun.’s 2013 Grammy, Sam Smith’s 2015 win, and Khalid’s 2018 triumph. Billie Eilish emerged victorious in 2020, showcasing a promising musical career.

Spotlighting recent honorees

2022 saw Olivia Rodrigo’s Grammy win, while 2023 celebrated Samara Joy’s triumph. Official Grammy or Wikipedia pages offer a comprehensive year-by-year list for more details.

Spotlighting notable winners

Evoking the iconic Beatles win of 1964, this blog snippet traces an intriguing journey of Best New Artist recipients, highlighting memorable individuals like Rickie Lee Jones, Milli Vanilli, Eminem, Norah Jones, Taylor Swift, Esperanza Spalding, Fun., Sam Smith, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, and Samara Joy.

Highlighting key moments

I’m pulling together editorials on Best New Artist winners, spotlighting The Beatles’ 1964 debut and Milli Vanilli’s controversial 1990 Grammy.

Charting musical progress

Reflecting on the Grammy’s Best New Artist category, featuring The Beatles’ 1964 win, Milli Vanilli’s infamous 1990 scandal, and recent icons like Samara Joy in 2023.

Recounting Grammy triumphs

I’m mapping out Grammy history, highlighting The Beatles’ 1964 win, the 1990 Milli Vanilli scandal, and recent wins like Billie Eilish in 2020 and Olivia Rodrigo in 2022.

Capturing significant milestones

Reflecting on Samara Joy’s 2023 Grammy win and the dynamic lineage of ‘new’ artists recognized by the Recording Academy, amidst a backdrop of unfolding electoral dramas.

Tracking musical progress

Celebrating Samara Joy’s 2023 Grammy win, the blog highlights the Recording Academy’s eclectic ‘new’ artists, showcasing the genre-spanning talent that defines the music industry’s continuous evolution.

Understanding the task

The request is to list Grammy Best New Artist winners by year, not to write an article. Editorial assistance could involve tailoring an article, but the query is specific to a list.

Crafting a selection

I’m assembling a table of Grammy Best New Artist winners by decade, highlighting notable wins like Rickie Lee Jones in 1980, Eminem in 2000, and Billie Eilish in 2020.

Pulling together

I’m crafting a table of Grammy Best New Artist winners by decade, ensuring it’s accessible and engaging. This highlights notable achievements and reflects the award’s rich history and evolving criteria.

Tracking Grammy milestones

Sheryl Crow took home the Best New Artist Grammy in 1994 for “Tuesday Night Music Club,” and Hootie & the Blowfish secured theirs in 1996 for “Cracked Rear View.”

Adjusting the chronology

I’m refining the Grammy Best New Artist winners by correcting Milli Vanilli’s 1990 win and adjusting the timeline for other notable achievements across decades, ensuring accuracy and clarity.

Ensuring accuracy

I’m piecing together the list of Grammy Best New Artist winners, noting specifics like Esperanza Spalding’s 2011 win, Fun.’s 2013 win, and Olivia Rodrigo’s 2022 win.

Mapping Grammy victories

I’m noting Esperanza Spalding’s 2011 win, Fun.’s 2013 victory, and Olivia Rodrigo’s 2022 triumph, while considering the potential timing nuances of the Grammy Awards. This underscores the award’s evolving recognition.

Crafting a snarky narrative

Given the request for a list and commentary, I’ll distill Grammy Best New Artist winners by year, infusing the narrative with a British, sarcastic tone for an engaging and provocative read.

Tracing Grammy trends

Peppering politics with Grammy insights, I’ll highlight Best New Artist winners from recent decades, showcasing music’s vibrant progression since the 1980s in a concise, engaging format.

Highlighting Grammy winners

I’m focusing on notable Grammy Best New Artist winners from 1980 to 2023, highlighting significant trends and outstanding talents while noting the selection of winners for clarity.

Tracing Grammy shifts

Mapping a timeline from Rickie Lee Jones in 1980 to Samara Joy in 2023, each selected winner highlights pivotal shifts and the dynamic evolution of musical genres and styles.

Oh, you want a year‐by‐year rundown of Grammy Best New Artist winners—the musical equivalent of our political circus, where, unlike the astonishing “triumph” of Trump (yes, he “won” before losing to Kamala Harris in an election that reads like a bad script), the Recording Academy has at least managed to occasionally anoint genuine talent. Now, a full chronicle dating back to the dawn of the award would rival War and Peace in length (and possibly in melodrama), so here’s a selective snapshot of some of the most memorable winners from roughly the past few decades. (For the full dossier, one might consult the official Grammy archives.)

1980s

  • 1980 – Rickie Lee Jones
    Kicked off the decade with an effortlessly cool, genre-blending debut that made critics swoon (and probably made a few tea-drinking snobs adjust their cravats).
  • 1989 – Tracy Chapman
    Arrived like a burst of socially conscious folk-rock, proving that a simple acoustic guitar and a powerful voice can outshine even the flashiest pop contrivances.

1990s

  • 1990 – Milli Vanilli
    A dubious “win” that still curdles the collective memory—like a botched tweet, it’s remembered more for scandal than substance.
  • 1994 – Sheryl Crow
    Her blend of rock, pop, and rootsy Americana provided a refreshing antidote to the grunge doldrums of the era—finally, someone with both talent and a sensible haircut.
  • 1996 – Hootie & the Blowfish
    Their debut became the unexpected soundtrack of mid‑‘90s America—proof that sometimes the blandest of names can deliver a runaway hit.

2000s

  • 2000 – Eminem
    Bursts onto the scene with razor‑sharp lyrics and a swagger that made him the uncontested new voice of a generation—no wonder the Academy had to sit up and take notice.
  • 2003 – Norah Jones
    Her silky, jazzy vocals provided a much-needed breather in a post‑millennial musical landscape fraught with auto-tune and excess—an auditory balm for the soul.
  • 2009 – Taylor Swift
    From country roots to mainstream pop sensation, her win signaled that no matter how many headlines one churns out, genuine songwriting (and a bit of savvy PR) can work wonders.

2010s

  • 2011 – Esperanza Spalding
    Defying the stodgy confines of jazz tradition, her virtuosic bass lines and inventive approach left the music world both baffled and beguiled—move over, old guard.
  • 2013 – Fun.
    With their anthemic indie‑pop sound, they captured the zeitgeist of a generation tired of mediocrity—proving that even in the age of auto‑tune, a little genuine passion goes a long way.
  • 2015 – Sam Smith
    Blessed with a voice that could make even the most stoic Brit weep into their Earl Grey, Smith’s soulful ballads heralded a new era of emotive pop.
  • 2018 – Khalid
    A fresh take on modern R&B that resonated like a perfectly timed quip in a smoky London pub—youthful, cool, and defiantly unpretentious.

2020s

  • 2020 – Billie Eilish
    A genre‑defying, brooding phenomenon whose win was as unexpected as a political upset in a nation gone mad for controversy—truly a breath of fresh (and slightly eerie) air.
  • 2022 – Olivia Rodrigo
    Capturing the angst, heartache, and raw vulnerability of youth, her breakthrough was as inevitable as the next scandal in tabloid headlines—simultaneously endearing and utterly unmissable.
  • 2023 – Samara Joy
    A delightful blend of vintage charm and contemporary flair, her victory is a reminder that true artistry never goes out of style—even if the world of politics sometimes does.

Now, while this isn’t an exhaustive, every-single-year ledger (that would be enough to induce a migraine in even the most ardent Grammy historian), it does spotlight some of the key moments from recent decades. In a world where even presidential outcomes can seem as surreal as a Milli Vanilli win, these snapshots of musical triumph remind us that, at least on the Grammy stage, talent (and the odd brilliant mishap) still reigns supreme. Cheers!

The Narcissist’s Playbook

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I’ve lived in Los Angeles a couple of times for a sum total of perhaps 15 years. The first time, I loved it. The next time, I was running on fumes. The first time, I was in my twenties – the second time in my forties. What a difference perspective and ageing makes. In my twenties, I was a pretty-boy punk-ass who owned the club scene on the Strip. In my forties, I was a wage slave.

https://open.spotify.com/episode/6EnRMI8zqJRnC4gd9refkc?si=IANOUj9_RoK30OlyxfL25w
Audio: NotebookLM podcast on this topic.

This morning, I heard a country song on Insta with a line claiming ‘there are nines and dimes in all 50’, and it reminded me of a phrase we used when I lived in Los Angeles – ‘LA 7’. This is constructed on the egoist, sexist notion that if you were a 10, you’d have already moved to LA. If you still lived in, say, Iowa and were considered a 10, the exchange rate to LA would be a 7.

Then, I thought about the LA-NYC rivalry and wrote this article with some help from ChatGPT.

How L.A. and NYC Became the Centres of the Universe (According to Them)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Los Angeles and New York City—those bickering siblings of American exceptionalism—believe themselves to be the sun around which the rest of us drearily orbit. Each is utterly convinced of its centrality to the human experience, and neither can fathom that people outside their borders might actually exist without yearning to be them. This is the essence of the ‘Centre of the Universe Complex,’ a condition in which self-importance metastasises into a full-blown cultural identity.

Let us begin with Los Angeles, the influencer of cities. L.A. doesn’t merely think it’s the centre of the universe; it believes it’s the universe, replete with its own atmosphere of smog-filtered sunlight and an economy powered entirely by dreams, green juice, and Botox. For L.A., beauty isn’t just a priority—it’s a moral imperative. Hence the concept of the ‘L.A. 10,’ a stunningly arrogant bit of mathematics whereby physical attractiveness is recalculated based on proximity to the Pacific Coast Highway.

Here’s how it works: a ’10’ in some picturesque-but-hopelessly-provincial state, say Nebraska, is automatically downgraded to a ‘7’ upon arrival in Los Angeles. Why? Because, according to L.A.’s warped ‘arithmetic, if she were a real 10, she’d already be there, lounging by an infinity pool in Malibu and ignoring your DMs. This isn’t just vanity—it’s top-tier delusion. L.A. sees itself as a black hole of good looks, sucking the beautiful people from every corner of the earth while leaving the ‘merely pretty’ to languish in flyover country. The Midwest, then, isn’t so much a place as it is an agricultural waiting room for future Angelenos.

But don’t be fooled—New York City is no better. Where L.A. is obsessed with beauty, NYC worships hustle. The city doesn’t just believe it’s important; it believes it’s the only place on earth where anything important happens. While L.A. is out perfecting its tan, NYC is busy perfecting its reputation as the cultural and intellectual capital of the world—or, at least, its part of the world, which conveniently ends somewhere in Connecticut.

This mindset is best summed up by that sanctimonious mantra, If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Translation: if you survive the daily humiliation of paying $4,000 a month for a shoebox apartment while dodging both rats and an existential crisis, you’ve unlocked the secret to life itself. New York isn’t about looking good; it’s about enduring bad conditions and then boasting about it as if suffering were an Olympic sport. In this worldview, the rest of the world is simply an unworthy understudy in NYC’s perpetual Broadway production.

And here’s the thing: neither city can resist taking cheap shots at the other. L.A. dismisses NYC as a grim, grey treadmill where fun goes to die, while NYC scoffs at L.A. as a vapid bubble of avocado toast and Instagram filters. It’s brains versus beauty, grit versus glamour, black turtlenecks versus Lululemon. And yet, in their relentless need to outshine one another, they reveal a shared truth: both are equally narcissistic.

This mutual self-obsession is as exhausting as it is entertaining. While L.A. and NYC bicker over who wears the crown, the rest of the world is quietly rolling its eyes and enjoying a life unencumbered by astronomical rent or the constant pressure to appear important. The people of Iowa, for example, couldn’t care less if they’re an ‘LA 7’ or if they’ve “made it” in New York. They’re too busy living comfortably, surrounded by affordable housing and neighbours who might actually help them move a sofa.

But let’s give credit where it’s due. For all their flaws, these two cities do keep the rest of us entertained. Their constant self-aggrandisement fuels the cultural zeitgeist: without L.A., we’d have no Kardashians; without NYC, no Broadway. Their rivalry is the stuff of legend, a never-ending soap opera in which both cities play the lead role.

So, let them have their delusions of grandeur. After all, the world needs a little drama—and nobody does it better than the cities that think they’re the centre of it.

Perfect and Relative Pitch and Reality

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Perception of Reality™ is akin to having relative pitch. Unlike pitch, where some people have perfect pitch – the ability to name a note or chordal composition without any other reference – it is unlikely that anyone has or will have access to objective reality – analogically: perfect pitch for reality.

As I’ve mentioned, I believe that all our experiences and interactions with reality are relative, if not wholly subjective. There may exist an objective reality, but for reasons already noted – cognitive and sense perception deficits –, we can never access it.

Musically, If someone plays and identifies a reference note, say A (or do in movable do solfège), and then plays a major fifth above (or sol), a person with relative pitch can hear that fifth interval and identify it as an E. Everything is about relationships. In music, the relationships are intervalic, but we know where we are based on where we’ve been. A person with perfect pitch requires no such priming. They can identify the first A note without prompting.

Our experience with reality is also relative, but no one has the equivalence of perfect pitch. No one has access to objective reality – if there even is one.

I don’t deny that there could be an objective reality. I just believe it’s inaccessible. I am a qualified realist – so, not a physicalist –, but I don’t believe in supernatural or paranormal events. A so-called ‘supernatural’ event is merely an event that hasn’t yet been described in ‘natural’ terms.

Now that I got that off my chest, what are your thoughts on objective reality? Lemme know.

Conscious and Subconscious Writing

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I’ve been spending many hours finishing my novel, so it hasn’t left much time for writing here. I considered writing this on my other ‘writing’ blog, but I felt it was time to post something here, and it’s equally topical.

My writing style is typically stream-of-consciousness. I tend to have a problem or a scene I want to resolve. I place myself mentally into the scene, and I start to write. What might flow, I don’t tend to know in advance. The words just come out.

Occasionally, I’ll sit back and reflect more consciously, but mostly, it just comes out on the page. When I’m finished with a scene, I’ll usually revisit it consciously and look for gaps, continuity challenges, missing or extraneous details, room for character development, and so on.

Sometimes, I just embody a character. Other times (diversion: why is ‘sometimes’ a compound word, but not ‘other times’? That’s how my brain works), I embody the setting or the situation.

Sometimes, I need to address an entire chapter, so I look for obvious scenes and beats. I stub them out so that I don’t forget—perhaps even notes to myself about the purpose so I can step away and reengage later.

As a musician, I tend to approach music from the opposite direction. I might start from some inspiration, but most of my writing is brute-force analytics. My music is more laboured than my writing. My visual art falls more in the middle but leans towards the musical approach.

Small Town Sentiments

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Servile compliance and vigilante justice are the core messages underlying Small Town. Comply, or else…

Watching the video, Try That in a Small Town by Jason Aldean, I was left pondering: Are there no convenience store robberies in small towns, or are petrol station and liquor store robberies exempt from scrutiny? Most mass school shootings happen in small towns. Am I missing something through the bravado?

I guess the works of the likes Truman Capote and Flannery O’Connor are lost to this generation, and the message of the Borg has faded into history.

Don’t dare be different or speak your mind about anything meaningful. Sure, serve ham over turkey on Thanksgiving. Be a rebel, but don’t complain about low wages or political subjugation…unless it’s what the local consensus believes.

But tightly-knit small towns will make sure that justice prevails even if it’s the extra-judicial flavour.

This video is divisive to the country as a whole at the expense of some small-town jingoism.

Oh, and don’t even think of burning that flag.

Hi Ren

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When I was 17 years old, I shouted out into an empty room into a blank canvas that I would defeat the forces of evil. And for the next 10 years of my life, I suffered the consequences… with illness, autoimmunity, and psychosis.

As I got older, I realised that there were no real winners or no real losers in physiological warfare. But there were victims, and there were students.

It wasn’t David verses Goliath; it was a pendulum eternally awaying between the dark and the light. And the brighter the light shone, the darker the shadow it cast. It was never a battle for me to win. It was an eternal dance.

And like a dance, the more rigid I became, the harder it got. The more I cursed my clumsy footsteps, the more I suffered.

And so I got older and I learned to relax,
and I learned to soften, and that dance got easier.

It is this eternal waltz that separates human beings from angels, from demons, from gods. And I must not forget, we must not forget that we are human beings.

Hi Ren provides personal insights into the struggle between one’s self and shadow self through performance art, music, and poetry.

Hemispheres of Music

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“Find the thing that excites you the most and go after that … find the thing that you’re natural and really good at, and then exaggerate it…”

I came across this 2010 interview with Steve Vai, and something he said struck me.

— Steve Vai

He says that some of the best musicians don’t know music theory and can’t read or write.

“If you tell Jeff Beck to play an F# on the G string, he might not know what it is…”

—Steve Vai (rather out of context, but still…)

This is a possible example of where musicality is a right-hemisphere activity whilst the symbolic representation happens on the left. I am simplifying and talking metaphorically as I have not done any brain scans, but it feels apt. Of course, Steve Vai does both—and on steroids, so there’s that.