The 35 times when the Grammys got it right

Established at the very first Grammy Awards in 1959, Best R&B Performance was home to a wide net of artists, with Elvis Presley even netting a nomination in 1960 for "A Big Hunk o' Love" (that ultimately lost out to Dinah Washington's "What a Diff'rence a Day Makes"). Yet the 1961 ceremony signaled a dominating four-year streak of wins by Ray Charles, and his 1962 win for his signature hit "Hit the Road Jack" felt like a coronation. The competition for this year was particularly odd, ranging from Ernie K-Doe's novelty chart-topper "Mother-in-Law" to Laverne Baker's gospel rave-up "Saved", but this was Charles' for the taking. The category was discontinued after the 1968 ceremony but was revived in 2012 for contemporary tastes.

The Album of the Year category in the Grammy's nascent years is almost unrecognizable to what we see in it now. Live albums (like "Judy at Carnegie Hall") and comedy records dominated next to releases by the likes of Barbra Streisand and Frank Sinatra. After the music landscape changed dramatically in 1964, it was thrilling to see the Recording Academy actually go with the flow. While jazz saxophonist Stan Getz was no stranger to the AOTY category, having been nominated in the 1963 ceremony for his Charlie Byrd collaboration "Jazz Samba", it was his sessions with Brazilian guitarist João Gilberto that helped kickstart a bossa nova revolution, anchored by "The Girl from Ipanema" (which in turn won Record of the Year). This year's category featured previous winners of the top gong (chiefly Streisand and Henry Mancini), and while those were safe choices, acknowledging "Getz/Gilberto" felt like the Academy was moving towards a new, more progressive stance.

While João Gilberto was picking up Album and Record of the Year trophies, it was his recently separated from-partner Astrud — the vocalist on "The Girl from Ipanema" — who was nominated for Best New Artist. She didn't win, but held her own in esteemed company like Petula Clark and Antonio Carlos Jobim. Yet, as was a sign of the times, the mop-topped lads from Liverpool known as The Beatles were in the middle of reshaping the whole of pop music, and their Best New Artist win not only made sense but was as clearly on-the-nose an honor as the category had ever bestowed. The following year, the Grammys went all in on rock music for this category, nominating The Byrds, Sonny & Cher, and Herman's Hermits for the prize, all of them ultimately losing out to Tom Jones.

Even after awarding the Best New Artist gong to the Fab Four in 1965, the Grammys were still reluctant to make room for rock music, despite nominating the group for the Album of the Year statue for the ceremonies in 1966 (for "Help!") and 1967 (for "Revolver"). Yes, they gave McCartney a statue for performance via "Elanor Rigby" in '67, but after two consecutive years of giving the top album prize to Frank Sinatra, "Sgt. Pepper's" topping the ballot served as a massive sea change, especially in a year where Sinatra was nominated in the category yet again. Admittedly, this wasn't a particularly strong crop of AOTY nods (save for Bobbie Gentry's classic "Ode to Billie Joe"), but the Grammys got with the time and honored innovation as it was happening.

The competition for Best New Artist in 1969 was fierce, with country legend Jeannie C. Riley battling it out with Gary Puckett & The Union Gap and Cream for this honor. Yet looking back at it over a half-century later, the Recording Academy was bang on with giving the honor to José Feliciano, whose cover of The Doors "Light My Fire" had just become an international breakthrough. Feliciano's distinct blending of genre tropes, to say nothing of his self-penned classic "Feliz Navidad", would cement him as Latin pop royalty, and thus his coronation as Best New Artist felt richly deserved.

Just for the sake of clarity, let's get into it: Song of the Year is awarded to the best-written song, while Record of the Year is the resulting track that excels with songwriting, production, and performance all accounted for. It's splitting hairs a bit, but at the 1974 ceremony, splitting hairs is exactly what voters had to do, as the competition was unusually strong. Stevie Wonder's "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" were self-penned masterworks, while Dawn and Tony Orlando's "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree" rubbed shoulders next to Charlie Rich's "Behind Closed Doors". Yet those songs couldn't quite match the emotional scope and scale of Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox's masterpiece "Killing Me Softly With His Song" as performed by Roberta Flack. The song's history is controversial (co-writer Lori Lieberman was denied an official credit, and her self-released rendition tanked), but once Flack's version took over the charts, it also took over the Grammys, also winning Record of the Year and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance.

The run of Album of the Year winners in the 1970s was ruled by Stevie Wonder, who won the prize three times, but it was good he kept his hat out of the ring in 1978, which had one of the most competitive years on record. While Steely Dan's seminal "Aja" and the Eagles "Hotel California" duked it out with James Taylor's "JT" and John Williams score for "Star Wars", the eventual winner was the pop-rock behemoth that was Fleetwood Mac's messy-and-perfect masterpiece "Rumors". The story behind the tortured creation of the record is etched in the public consciousness, but nearly every song was a single, and even the ones that weren't felt like they had been around forever (like "I Don't Want to Know"). Any of these nominees were truly worthy of the gong, but for Fleetwood Mac, "Dreams" really did come true.

While 1978's Album of the Year category was a bloodbath, Record of the Year's batch of nominees was less thrilling. While Barbra Streisand's "Evergreen (Love Theme from A Star Is Born)" became a staple and "Blue Bayou" ended up being one of Linda Ronstadt's best-selling tracks, they, along with fellow nominees "You Light Up My Life" by Debby Boone and "Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue" by Crystal Gayle, simply didn't have the same level of cultural impact that Eagles' "Hotel California" possessed. Grammy voters too checked it out but never ended up leaving it off their ballots.

By the time the Grammys introduced the Best Disco Recording category for their 1980 ceremony, the rose was off the bloom as disco was already in a giant commercial and critical decline. While the category shuttered after handing out only one statue, at least it went to a most deserving winner: "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor, arguably one of disco's most defining tracks. Yet for its only showing, the nominees for Best Disco Recording all felt deserving in some capacity: "Bad Girls" by Donna Summer, "Boogie Wonderland" by Earth, Wind & Fire, "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" by Michael Jackson, and "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" by Rod Stewart. It makes perfect sense why the Grammys discontinued this category, but the larger question was why did they wait so long to introduce it in the first place?

The Producer of the Year (Non-Classical) category has evolved over time, with modern nominees needing a specific list of the exact songs and albums they worked on to be considered for the trophy, but for many years, it was obvious why these professional board-manners got their nods. While Quincy Jones had solo works and numerous R&B records to his credit as a producer, it was his work with Michael Jackson that pushed him into mainstream acceptance, and after having been nominated in the two years prior, his win in 1982 for his work with Patti Austin and a popular Lena Horne soundtrack compilation was enough to push him over the edge. It was a tough category year too, going up against a former winner (the icon Arif Mardin) and a future winner (Lionel Richie) for the same prize, but Jones' three wins put him in a close second-place tie for the most behind four-time winner Babyface. Curious fact: there has never been a female winner in this category.

While many Grammy categories may get shifted, condensed, or outright removed after decades of prominence, the Best New Artist trophy has been one of the Recording Academy's most reliable heavy hitters. Sure, they got it wrong with the Starland Vocal Band, and several nominated acts in the '80s ended up being little more than one-hit wonders, but when it came to Cyndi Lauper's coronation, the stars were properly aligned. Her winning year was an unusual one, as she was stacked up against rising talents like Sheila E. and The Judds along with fresh new game-changers like Frankie Goes to Hollywood, but after launching one of the most spectacular hit-making debut albums in recent memory, Cyndi's time as a bright new talent felt correct. Admittedly, her debut year was her biggest from a commercial front, but she ended up putting out more hits and a few cult classic records in the 2000s.

All eyes were fixated on the Best New Artist category at the 1991 Grammys ceremony, as just the year prior, it was ground zero for one of the largest disasters in Recording Academy history. Less than two months after awarding the Best New Artist statue to Milli Vanilli, the duo's lip-syching controversy came to light as did revelations at the group's performers were not actually the vocalists on their record, leading to the Grammys revoking the group's award. While this year's set of nominees featured a few pop-music also-rans (namely The Kentucky Headhunters and Lisa Stansfield), the classic roots rock of The Black Crowes battled fiercely against the bubbly pop stylings of vocal group Wilson Phillips. Yet the winner ended up being someone whom you could never accuse of lip-syncing: a hot new multi-octave vocalist named Mariah Carey, who went on to score an additional 30+ nominations with the Recording Academy in the decades that followed.

Don't worry about Metallica: they aren't going to run out of money or acclaim any time soon. Yet if all you had to judge them on were the number of Best Metal Performance Grammys that they've won, well ... they'd also be OK, having topped the category seven times, more than double their closest rival (Tool). In fact, they won it the first three years in a row after the category was introduced in 1990, taking home their first two gongs for the song "One" and their cover of Queen's "Stone Cold Crazy". Yet in those years, it was songs competing against albums, and the group faced some stiff competition from the likes of Soundgarden, Megadeth, and Faith No More. Yet at the 1992 ceremony, all eyes were on James Hetfield and company for the unprecedented success of their self-titled record, colloquially known as "The Black Album". While they were up against Motörhead and arguably Soundgarden's masterpiece "Badmotorfinger", Metallica's game-changing fifth full-length was the undisputed champion and frequently rivals Led Zeppelin's "IV" as one of the best-selling and most well-regarded metal records of all time.

Can we be vulnerable for a moment? As much as "The Bodyguard" marked the power and impact of a once-in-a-generation vocalist like Whitney Houston, the album itself is a bit of a mess. It's front-loaded with some of Whitney's greatest singles ("I Have Nothing", "Queen of the Night"), but its backend tracks — featuring the likes of Kenny G, Lisa Stansfield, and whatever's going on with that oddball cover of "It's Gonna Be a Lovely Day" — doesn't make it feel like Album of the Year material. Yet even with that criticism, no one could deny the potency of Whitney's cover of Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You", which didn't merely showcase her vocal histrionics but the emotion that she imbues into her performance. There was some good competition this year (like Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" and Sting's "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You" ), but this was Whitney's to win from the day the song dropped.

The Best Alternative Album category was created in 1991 and still feels like a rock-music potpourri. Albums that straddle the line between pop and rock and experimental music often find their place here, which is in part why Björk has been nominated for it nine times and hasn't yet won. In fact, three acts remain tied on most wins for this golden gramophone, with Beck, The White Stripes, and Radiohead all pulling off a triple hat-trick. Radiohead's win for "OK Computer", one of their many alienating masterpieces, felt like a crowning moment for their growing rock-crit ascendancy, but when you look at what they were up against (The Chemical Brothers' and The Prodigy's most well-known records, as well as one of David Bowie's worst), the answer was clear. Yes, Björk's landmark "Homogenic" was a fierce alternate, but this felt like Radiohead's moment, and as documentaries from around this time later showed, it proved to be a bit too overwhelming for the band.

The Best R&B Album category feels like something that could've been around for over half a century, but in fact, its first appearance was in 1995. Designed to reflect contemporary definitions of the genre, it spun off additional categories of Best Contemporary R&B Album (2003-2011) and Best Progressive R&B Album (2020-present), all while the original kept on trucking. For the 1998 ceremony, the competition wasn't as strong as you'd think, featuring a bunch of relatively-OK records from truly legendary artists (i.e. Whitney Houston's "The Preacher's Wife" soundtrack, Mary J. Blige's "Share My World", Boyz II Men's "Evolution", etc.). This left room for Erykah Badu's debut album "Baduizm", a torchlight for the then-emergent neo-soul movement that only occasionally bent its will to commercial considerations. It's an absolute slam dunk of a winner.

Formed shortly around the time that MTV started up, the Best Music Video category has been one of the Grammys most level-headed, as big-budget videos compete with indie auteurs on a regular basis, giving a truly level playing field. At the 1998 ceremony, the nominees were heavily centered around visual effects, as the "living portraits" motif of Milestone's "I Care 'Bout You" and the merged-body aesthetic of Morphine's "Early to Bed" were designed to push the medium forward. Yet the true contenders were Tool's evocative clip for "Stinkfist" and Janet Jackson's gorgeous celebration of Black beauty that was "Got 'Til It's Gone" as helmed by Mark Romanek. We've discussed this video extensively in our 50 Greatest Music Videos of All-Time list, so, unsurprisingly, this feels like the right outcome for the year. (As for Tool, don't worry: their videos not only got more disturbing but also more visually compelling over time.)

Best Pop Vocal Album has a deeply strange Grammys history, having appeared once in 1968 (under the original generic name of Best Contemporary Album) before disappearing until its 1995 reintroduction. In five of the last ten competitive years, the winner of this category would go on to win Album of the Year, but back in 1999, it was a blowout. While Celine Dion's "Let's Talk About Love" was riding heavily off her post-"Titanic" success, other competitors included The Brian Setzer Orchestra, the debut record from Natalie Imbruglia, and an Eric Clapton record that critics largely derided upon release. Thus, it's no surprise that "Ray of Light" took the trophy, as Madonna was pushing dance-pop in new directions while also in peak vocal form, fresh off of all the training she did for her role in the film "Evita". While the female-driven Album of the Year category was cutthroat (Lauryn Hill! Sheryl Crow! Garbage! Shania Twain!), Madonna's Best Pop Vocal Album prize was no small consolation.

Signed to a major label at age 15 but kept in training for years, label head Clive Davis wanted to make sure that when he debuted Alicia Keys for his J Records imprint, it was going to make an impact. Lucky for him, his nurturing of Keys' talent paid off, as her debut album, "Songs in A Minor", was a qualified smash. Lead single "Fallin'" was written with difficult familial tension in mind versus any sort of romantic sentiment, but once it hit radio, that's what many people got out of it, and Keys' parsing of hard-to-define emotions immediately made her stand out from her contemporaries. While we may never fully understand the Grammy's obsession with Train (or Jacob Collier, for that matter), there was still some great talent on display this year: India.Arie with "Video", Nelly Furtado for "I'm Like a Bird", and U2 for "Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of". Some heavy hitters, but it was Alicia's year, and while she would go on to win a multitude of other miniature golden gramophones, this was her only win in this category.

There have been many worthy winners of the songwriter's award for great rock songs of yore: Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know", The Wallflowers' "One Headlight", Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Scar Tissue", etc. While this award has gone to Bruce Springsteen several times (he also has the most nominations for it), there truly felt like no moment that celebrated rock excellence quite like The White Stripes' ascendancy to rock royalty. "Seven Nation Army", which won the honor in 2004, still resonates two decades later: an instant anthem of rock fury that is as pulse-pounding as it is recognizable. The year it won, it did so by easily standing atop of heap of nominees that included Train's "Calling All Angels" and Nickelback's "Someday". Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life" was having a moment at the time, but The White Stripes were building a legacy. With that Grammy win, that legacy was secured.

Before the advent of YouTube, DVDs were still one of the most reliable ways to watch music videos, and in 2003, Palm Pictures compiled some of the greatest works of music video directors to be released via the Directors Label imprint. They collected works from visionaries that included three future Oscar winners: Spike Jonze, Michel Gondry, and Jonathan Glazer. Yet the guy with the most Grammy Awards for Best Music Video is undisputed: Mark Romanek. Having directed legendary clips for everyone from Michael Jackson to Audioslave to Taylor Swift, it was surprising that he still had to pitch himself to Johnny Cash, insisting he could give a respectful treatment to Cash's cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt" better than anyone else. He got permission and was allowed to film at Cash's museum, and after dropping in archive clips of Cash next to footage of him in the twilight of his years, it created a stunning, emotionally potent effect. It's no wonder Romanek won yet again for this clip, and it's no wonder that it too ended up on our list of The 50 Greatest Music Videos of All Time.

Another victim of the Grammy's weird category compression in the '70s and '80s, the Best Country Album prize was presented in 1965 and 1966 (won both times by Roger Miller) before being revived in 1995. A decade after its resurgence, Tim McGraw was riding off of a new commercial peak with "Live Like You Were Dying", Keith Urban scored his first nomination in the category with "Be Here", and Gretchen Wilson's game-changing "Live Like You Were Dying" were all vying for top marks. Yet the legend herself, Loretta Lynn, just put out a full-length collaboration with Jack White of The White Stripes, who encouraged her to get back in touch with her original songwriting chops while giving her some lively-yet-rustic production to bring those musings to life. The result was not only a late-career highlight for her but her second Grammy win after scoring one in 1971.

In a year where Velvet Revolver's debut album was running up next to a pretty serviceable Elvis Costello record and Hoobastank's flirtation with crossover success, it's no surprise that there were only two real contenders for the Best Rock Album trophy. On one end, we had the classic debut album by The Killers, "Hot Fuss", which slow-burned for over a year and was filled with hit after hit. On the other end sat Green Day, who after years in the commercial wilderness came roaring back with an incendiary, political rock opera that reintroduced them to a gigantic new audience. While both albums are still heralded to this day, Green Day built a whole second act of their career with "American Idiot", eventually turning it into a Broadway hit. This Grammy just marked the start of their radical new journey.

While most people may only know U.K. dance music duo Basement Jaxx for their 2001 hit "Where's Your Head At?", they helped define the Big Beat scene in the '90s, mixing rock attitude with dance music in a way that made them genre figureheads alongside Fatboy Slim and The Chemical Brothers. Yet the Jaxx's records were notorious for being beautifully overstuffed with details, perhaps no more prevalent than on their underrated masterpiece "Kish Kash", wherein every track is stacked with three or four hooks that most artists would use for standalone songs. It was a bold record, so much so that they beat out Paul Oakenfold, The Prodigy, The Crystal Method, and Paul van Dyk for the inaugural win in this new category. Their reward for such an achievement? Being immediately dropped by their record label, which still didn't see too many commercial prospects left in them.

Amy Winehouse's retro-soul sound was like nothing else on the radio in 2007, and when mixed up with her too-truthful lyrics, it quickly established her as a talent to watch. While her legendary record "Back to Black" lost out on the Album of the Year prize to Herbie Hancock, Winehouse, who performed via live broadcast from the U.K. after her work visa for performance was denied, still had a great night. She won Best New Artist over Feist, Paramore, and Taylor Swift. She won Song of the Year over Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" and Corinne Bailey Rae's "Like a Star". But most importantly, despite stiff competition from Justin Timberlake, Rihanna, Foo Fighters, and Beyoncé, her stunned state of shock upon winning Record of the Year became a defining visual. She lost only one of her six nominations that year, putting her legacy in rarified air.

You don't have to worry about Vince Gill. One of country music's most consistent hitmakers, Gill's blend of the genre's poppier elements with a touch of bluegrass ensured he would always have an audience, which is also evidenced by his nearly two dozen Grammy wins. Most fascinatingly, nearly all of his wins were for songs and rarely for albums, which is a trend he deliberately bucked with his insanely ambitious "These Days" release in 2008. While the year wasn't particularly stacked for competition, being up against records from artists with umpteen nominations like George Strait, Brad Paisley, and Tim McGraw (to say nothing of perpetual Grammys bridesmaid Dierks Bentley), the sheer force of will it took to release an album as a four-disc box set where each record found him pivoting to a new genre was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It may look like a vanity project, but it ended up being a landmark set, also netting Gill a nod in the all-genre Album of the Year category. When Gill accepted his award, he was so confident he even cracked jokes at Kanye West's expense, proving to be a true crossover success.

In retrospect, Adele winning Best New Artist makes sense, as she's become one of the most popular, beloved pop divas of the last few decades. Yet let's not forget that it was her sophomore album, 2011's "21", that made her a superstar. At the 2009 ceremony, she was still just an upstart songwriter with a minor U.S. hit ("Chasing Pavements") under her belt. The competition that year was also quite diverse. While it's clear why Adele pulled more votes than her similarly-minded U.K. counterpart Duffy, the now-renamed country outfit Lady A and soul music superstar Jazmine Sullivan were also in the running (along with the Jonas Brothers for some reason). It's easy to see Adele's victory as a no-brainer, but at the time, it was a risky hedging of bets that paid off spectacularly.

While it certainly didn't hurt that Lady Gaga's first single, "Just Dance", shot straight to the top of the charts, it was the records she released after her flashes-of-brilliance debut that established her legacy. At only eight songs, "The Fame Monster" is one of the shorter contemporary albums to net the Best Pop Vocal Album prize, but with its bold declarations and wild musicality, it truly felt like the Grammys were riding into the future with a game-changing artist. While there wasn't much in the way of competition this year (a Justin Bieber record, Susan Boyle's debut, and a pretty-good John Mayer album rounded out the pack), Gaga's only true adversary was Katy Perry, whose "Teenage Dream" was a radio-swallowing behemoth that duked it out with the "The Fame Monster" for Album of the Year honors as well (both lost out to The Arcade Fire).

As big as Gaga's music was, it was her visuals that also pushed her pop star ridiculousness into the mainstream. As she started racking up hits, her video budgets ballooned, and she got increasingly serious with her art. So serious, in fact, that she convinced former music video auteur-turned-filmmaker Francis Lawrence to return to MTV-world just once to lens the clip for "Bad Romance", one of her boldest dance-pop confections. With its wild costumes, sci-fi capitalist narrative, and memorable dance moves, it became an instant cultural touchstone. It also didn't hurt that Gaga's competition this year wasn't especially strong, ranging from colorful clips for big hits (Cee Lo Green's "Fˆ#k You", Eminem & Rihanna's "Love the Way You Lie") to cameo-laden curiosities (Gorillaz's "Stylo") and an undeniable attempt to re-create the magic of Johnny Cash's "Hurt" with Chris Milk's "Ain't No Grave". Pundits called it for Gaga by a large margin, and they have arguably never been more correct.

In terms of pure songwriting, it's hard to top opening lines like "I've never seen a diamond in the flesh," doubly so when delivered with Ella Yelich-O'Connor's distinctive drawl. The New Zealand native's way with words made her stand out on the radio, aided by Joel Little's cool, minimalist production (and while Song of the Year does not include production, he did help co-write the track). The competition was other gigantic pop hits: Pink's "Just Give Me a Reason", Bruno Mars's "Locked Out of Heaven", Katy Perry's "Roar", and Macklemore & Ryan Lewis's "Same Love". While it could've gone to any of them with little consternation, anointing Lorde as the new voice of a generation felt like the right move, which the Grammys would continue to do years later by handing over trophies to another soft-spoken songwriter with a fresh perspective that would inspire a legion of imitators: Billie Eilish.

As this list has proven, some years have stronger nominees than others, but to that end, some categories are just built differently. Best Rap Album, for example, almost always delivers. Sure, there can be the occasional off year (like Ludacris winning for his odd foray into serious territory with 2006's "Release Therapy"), but for the most part, the category has honored game-changing records by the likes of OutKast, Eminem, Nas, Cardi B, and many more. While Kendrick Lamar is constantly in the conversation about who is the greatest living rapper, "To Pimp a Butterfly" was a challenging album, dense with shifting jazz beats and potent political statements, and even featured Kendrick bum-rushing his own pre-release single "i" on the album version as if protesting his own performance. It was daring stuff that still sold well, and even in competition with two future rap beef rivals (J. Cole and Drake) as well as Nicki Minaj's sophomore album and a long-overdue Dr. Dre comeback, not only was Kendrick's win expected, but it served as a bit of course-correction after the backlash that went to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis winning the category in 2014 over nominees like, you guessed it, Kendrick Lamar.

David Bowie's run of albums in the '90s and early 2000s weren't his most beloved, which partially explains why he took a decade-long break between records following the muted reception to 2003's "Reality". His 2013 record "The Next Day" was a welcome return to form despite being overlong, but "Blackstar" was something else. Brooding, experimental, and jazzy, the record's bold new sounds signaled a new era, but it unfortunately was an album disguised as a farewell, as Bowie passed of liver cancer two days after its release despite this information having not been available prior. The record was then viewed through a remarkable new lens and was enough to earn Bowie his first-ever chart-topper in America. While he was nominated for Best Alternative Album against the likes of Radiohead, Bon Iver, Iggy Pop, and PJ Harvey, it was clear that this was going to be his honor as well as a fitting tribute to his legacy.

Music videos are a marketing tool designed to help sell a song. Some songs come into prominence and are remembered because of their music video, but for Childish Gambino's "This is America", the impact of the song wouldn't have existed without its stunning visual counterpart. The song itself is spacious, unnerving, and surprisingly light on lyrics, but when accompanied with the long takes on the clip as helmed by Donald Glover's frequent "Atlanta" collaborator Hiro Murai, it takes on a whole new life. A shirtless Glover dances through an abandoned warehouse as any number of horrific crimes happen behind him, leaving bodies in its wake as every frame drips with symbolism. It was such a viral sensation that it made the song a surprise Billboard chart-topper and, perhaps even more stunningly, grabbed the gramophones for Song and Record of the Year. While there are many worthy competitors in those categories that could've reasonably snatched those prizes, the song's success is entirely reliant on its music video, which is why its win in this category remains undisputed.

Released shortly after the world went into lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic, many were curious as to what all of the cryptic teasers of a new Fiona Apple album were leading up to. As time went on, Apple's songwriting was growing wilder, more experimental, and undeniably bolder. While it had been eight years since her last full-length, "Fetch the Bolt Cutters" was as raw nerve an album as they come, speaking frankly about sexual assault and depression against a clanging, chaotic backdrop of sounds that still managed to coalesce into memorable songs. It was a cathartic listen at a time when the global psyche was going through the worst, and its win signified the Grammys actually honoring some boundary-pushing music. Facing off against underwhelming entries from Beck and Tame Impala as well as some stellar records from Phoebe Bridgers and Alabama Shakes' Brittany Howard, the Grammys made it clear that we are hoping we don't wait another eight years for Apple to fetch another trophy.

We don't want to hedge our bets too much here, but even a few years removed from the ceremony, Olivia Rodrigo's ascension into pop royalty has felt like an organic phenomenon. Using alt-rock as the basis for her sound instead of dance-pop, Rodrigo has become surprisingly influential, up to the point where one K-Pop idol even wrote a single expressing jealousy over her success (Yuqi's intensely divisive "Hate Rodrigo"). Wisely, from the 2019 ceremony onward, the Grammys have opened up the Best New Artist slot to more than just five nominees, leaving room for many more artists from multiple genres to compete. While the batch of nominees Rodrigo was up against ranged from the passé (The Kid Laroi, Glass Animals) to some genuine trailblazers (Arooj Aftab, Japanese Breakfast, Arlo Parks), the enormity of Rodrigo's pop-culture moment couldn't be denied, and with the hits she's racked up since then, it feels like she's going to be staying around for years to come.