Especially during the last decade, when the half-hearted but undeniable attempt of the ’90s to actually adhere to the stated “honor artistic excellence” mission of the most prestigious awards in popular music has yielded to a more-desperate-than-ever rush to laud sales, such as they are, during the dying days of the old-school record industry that gave birth to the prizes and which the folks who hand out the golden gramophones are futilely determined to preserve, but here is a link to the schizophrenic list of the 2011 nominees (among them Adele, Katy Perry, and Lady Gaga, surprise, surprise; Foo Fighters, because voters don’t want to ignore horrible mainstream rock; Kanye West, but not in many of the top categories, and this year’s way-outta-left-field “Arcade Fire pick,” Bon Iver, ack).

And here is a link to me talking about the silliness of all of this with a big-time mainstream local radio personality this morning. (And if he can’t credit me as being from WBEZ, thanks to his corporate owners’ policies, well then I won’t mention his station’s call letters here; take that, WGN! Oops…)

(P.S., hometown nods, for anybody who cares just a little bit—and these ain’t in any of the major categories, so big deal so what: Wilco, best rock album; R. Kelly, a few R&B genre nods, and Lupe Fiasco, best rap performance.)