Sunday's duet between Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs at the Grammys brought us one of those rare moments in America today when appreciation was stronger than criticism. From the illuminating joy on his face to the admiration on his, we are once again reminded of music's undeniable ability to turn unknown generations into sisters and brothers…if only for one song.
opinion columnist
LZ Granderson
LZ Granderson writes about culture, politics, sports, and living life in America.
It's been 35 years since Chapman first performed “Fast Car” at the awards show. We lived in a very different world then. To put it in context, neither Taylor Swift nor Travis Kelce were alive when it happened. Neither does Combs.
Here's another way to measure how much time passed in 1989: Among the other artists that year were Whitney Houston, Luther Vandross, and Melissa Etheridge, all queer, none openly at the time. George Michael, who won album of the year for “Faith” that year, came out nearly 10 years later.
And amidst all that '80s glamor was an unassuming newcomer, a narrator with dark skin, little to no makeup, short locs and a guitar. Chapman never announced her sexuality (her former lover, author Alice Walker, did so for her in 2006), but she never pretended to be anything other than the queer black woman he was.
That's not meant to cast a shadow over the closeted members of the LGBTQ+ community who were part of that night's festivities (it's not like I was out then either). But in order to properly give Chapman her flowers for Sunday's performance, we must recognize the environment in which her story began.
Queer love in Walker's “The Color Purple” was controversial when the novel was published in 1982. It was controversial when the film of the same name was released in 1985, and sadly, the 2023 musical also received pushback due to love. between black women on screen. And Chapman, who turns 60 next month, has been herself, performing on stage all this time.
The only notable difference over those years has been the color of his hair, which shined under the lights of the Crypto.com Arena on Sunday. The raven hair of yesteryear now adorned with the gray hair he has earned.
What does it mean to age gracefully?
I've been trying to answer that question since my only son graduated high school almost a decade ago. On the Grammy stage, Chapman gave us all an answer. It's not about accepting getting older; It's about accepting age with gratitude. That's what we witnessed in his smile during the first moments of his performance with Combs: gratitude.
Gray hair is often characterized as an intruder that must be removed, while wrinkles are considered deformities that need repair. Especially in the entertainment industry. Especially in Los Angeles. The temptation to dye our hair in an attempt to protect ourselves from Father Time is one that can be difficult to resist. For years I gave in, not wanting to look my age even though I have also been trying to live a long and healthy life; this is a contradiction.
And there was Chapman, as authentic today as she was 35 years ago, when we first heard her name and heard that song. Whitney, Luther and George are no longer with us. Melissa survived cancer. All reminders that life is fragile. Life is short. Too short to spend chasing what we once were or what others believe we should be. Too short to sacrifice who we really are or become who we are meant to be.
Because Chapman was herself (folk, black, queer), she connected with a straight white country artist from a small town in North Carolina. And together they created the most talked about moment of her industry's biggest night. They didn't do it by avoiding what made them different, but by accepting it. All of this.
