Awards season is a strange time. Not a strange time like puberty is a strange time, but more like a why-is-Bjork-wearing-a-swan strange time. ‘Tis the only time of year when people remember the Hollywood Foreign Press exists, when Billy Crystal gets a paycheck and when people (for whatever reason) listen to fashion advice from a mother/daughter team that holds the current world record for cumulative facelifts. But as much as we love seeing our favorites triumph, it’s time to look at one glaring problem in the system.

Last Sunday, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences held its 47th ceremony awarding achievement in music excellence. Of the 107 categories up for awards, only 11 were presented in prime time. Some might say this is because nobody cares who won for Best Country Instrumental Performance, but others think differently.

Award shows, particularly the Grammys and Oscars, are institutions that are buried so deep in nostalgia that they can’t bear true witness to the art that is happening around them. Each of these ceremonies annually lengthens their three-hour-plus broadcasts by bloating them with tributes, lifetime achievement awards and honorariums. These usually step aside for the major awards and performances of the night, but last Sunday this was not the case.

No one will ever doubt the genius or courage of Ray Charles, the man who overcame adversity to show the world how music should truly have been seen. The fact remains, though, that his untimely death and the subsequent release of his biopic should not give him precedence as an artist. On Sunday, Charles won the awards for Record and Album of the Year with a mediocre song off of a mediocre album. Had Charles not passed, his work would easily have been eclipsed by the music of Green Day or Kanye West, both of whom had a much greater effect on popular music in 2004 than Charles did.

Plus, it’s not like the man never got any recognition. Going into last Sunday’s ceremony, Charles had received twelve Grammys over a career that lasted 50 years. To put that in perspective, neither Tupac nor Biggie received a Grammy in the year following their deaths.

For one, this could be a by-product of the fall to the right that American media has taken. In a time where a Bud Light commercial that makes fun of Janet Jackson can’t be shown at the Super Bowl because of shame, it makes sense that film and music are all turning towards Charles. Here is a man who overcame adversity, they say. Never mind the fact that he was a heroin addict for a good chunk of his life: the man was blind! And anyone who made record companies and radio stations dizzy with anger towards a blind fellow has to be better than some punks singing about politics or a producer rapping about religion. Right?

This is the problem with heralding anyone following their death. No man with any sense of morals is going to insult the character of one who has already passed. As a result, the deceased’s work becomes the stuff of legend, his faults are glossed over and he’s placed in a nice video montage.

Ray Charles was a man who deserves to be remembered as a genius, but rather than continue heaping praise on him, try something else. Recognize those in the present who have the potential to be like Charles was in the past. Recognize the innovators, the risk-takers and those who throw art out whether we like it or not. These are the people from our generation who will be remembered. Until then, though, go to Mallinckrodt and look at the faces of those who watched Ray Charles play. If he could see them, I’m sure they’d be all the awards he’d ever need.

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