Even though I'm not the kind of person to capitalize on the fervor of celebrity gossip, its hard not to discuss the late Whitney Houston. We'll all hear the reports of her once pop-prowess, the eulogized career of a fallen star. Her downward spiral, sure enough to be retold endlessly at anti-drug conventions, is sad. And All of this coming on the eve of the American Music Industry's biggest award ceremony. Against my better judgement, I can't help but feel its all too poignant. 

This year’s Grammy nominees for Album of the Year speak to this. Of the five artists only one seriously belongs. Adele’s ‘21’ will win undoubtedly, but if not only because of the other nominees. Even the nomination of Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ doesn’t feel honest – it feels prompted. The same rings true for the Foo Fighters & Rihanna. Bruno Mars feels “like a child who wanders into the middle of a movie and wants to know…”, but of course we never get to finish that sentence - do we? The worst offender though is Bon Iver’s Best New Artist nod. While his debut, 2008’s ‘For Emma, Forever Ago’ was very good, this four-years-too-late nomination highlights the archaic structure that’s been looming over the musical landscape.

Drunk on its own self-appointed importance, the Recording Industry has isolated itself from music altogether. Staring down its own irreverence, its only defense seems to be stubbornness. If anything, Ms. Houston’s trajectory embodies the potency of perceived invincibility.