Now that the Grammys are over and the winners are crowned, perhaps now is the time to address this topic: Every year there are plethoras of features on the web that highlight “classic rock” artists — particularly those from the 1960s — that never won Grammy Awards. This is the result of a bad habit of some journalists of judging the past by the standards of the present. The National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences give out the Grammy Awards every year for this purpose, “to honor excellence in the recording arts and sciences. It is truly a peer honor, awarded by and to artists and technical professionals for artistic or technical achievement, not sales or chart positions.”

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The calendar is relentless, spinning its fixed cycle of days and dates without prejudice or foresight as the numbers whirl by on their annual trek to yet another new year, and each of those numbers, each of those dates, has its own set of events and associations that travel with them, accumulating like stars in the heavens or grains of sand on the grand beach of time. Today is February 8, a day deep enough—if you happen to live in the Midwest—into the heartless grip of winter as to be just another drab, meaningless day to slush through without freezing or ramming your car into a tree on the drive home. This year February 8 falls on a Friday, which makes it a little better (Mondays being the worst), but it pales beside the twin poles of Super Bowl Sunday (February 3 this year, meaning Groundhog Day, February 2, and a Saturday, was clearly overshadowed) and the love-it-or-hate-it faux holiday of Valentine’s Day (February 14 rolls up on a Thursday in 2008, a red-letter day for doghouse roses), but it is hardly a day of particular distinction. But oh, it is, for like every other day and date on the great spinning wheel, things happened (and continue to happen) on February 8 that give it its own special history.

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Cotton-Eyed Joe,
Where do you come from,
Where do you go?

Truthfully nobody knows where Cotton-Eyed Joe came from. The song itself, a feisty, irresistible dance tune, dates from before the Civil War, and was firmly established as a fiddle piece by the mid-1800s. It has been recorded countless times in endless variations by everyone from Doc Watson, the Skillet Lickers and the Red Clay Ramblers to Garth Brooks, Michelle Shocked and, in perhaps its strangest incarnation, as an urban dance number with sampled beats merging with fiddles and banjos in a fascinating (and for some, irritating) cultural collision by the Euro-dance combo Rednex. The lyrics vary considerably, aside from the “where do you come from” chorus, in the different versions of the song, no doubt due to years and years of square dance callers pulling in whatever floating verses fit their needs at the time. It is, after all, a dance tune, and has prompted dancers to fill the dance floor for well over two hundred years now, an amazing bit of musical survival.

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The Eagles were one of the most calculated bands in the history of American rock, and were undoubtedly one of the smartest as well. They didn’t invent country-rock, but they certainly put it on the map with their early singles, easily outstripping musically purer bands like Poco and the Flying Burrito Brothers in the commercial arena. Glen Frey, Don Henley, and company knew exactly what they were doing, and while Gram Parsons may have championed a seamless blend of country, rock, and soul that he termed “Cosmic American Music,” the Eagles actually pulled it off and landed it on the charts to boot. This was a band that not only represented the drug-fueled hedonistic lifestyle of mid-’70s Southern California, they also had the balls to comment on and be socially critical of that same lifestyle in their songs, the musical equivalent of having one’s cake and eating it, too. Their legacy is immense, and it’s virtually impossible to listen to a contemporary country station without hearing traces of the Eagles everywhere. Think “Lyin’ Eyes” and you’ll get the picture. No, this band knew what it was doing from the very first, so it should come as no surprise that the group’s first new album of studio material since 1979’s The Long Run, the double-disc Long Road Out of Eden, is such a savvy example of precise content, exact timing, and shrewd marketing that it ended up being the top selling album in 2007 from a U.S. group.

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The use of popular music in advertising is far from a new trend, and the practice has gained a considerable amount of steam in the 21st century, perhaps thanks in part to Apple’s successful iPod campaigns. But how much is too much, and which artists are above having their music used to sell everything from automobiles (the Jam, the Pogues, the Clash, Black Sabbath) to department store chains (John Lennon, Iggy Pop)? Reverence for a musician or group may be a matter of opinion, but what happens when an act crosses the line from pop star to cultural icon? Does it cheapen the memory of those like Lennon and Joe Strummer when their hits push products, or does it introduce a new generation to their music as well as that shiny new car? Is Paul McCartney a sell-out or shrewd businessman for making an iPod commercial featuring music from Memory Almost Full? What about Slash’s endorsement of Guitar Hero III and the subsequent placement of Velvet Revolver’s “Slither” in the game’s TV spots?

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You’ve got to feel at least a little sorry for poor will.i.am. First, he produces two generally respected Black Eyed Peas albums that increase the group’s public profile exactly zilch, then he sells out just a little bit with some “Where Is the Love?” and some “My Humps,” and suddenly he’s Public Enemy No. 1 in hip-hop (okay, maybe No. 2).

So what does he do on his first post-stardom solo album, Songs About Girls, but record 13 great songs with excellent productions and serviceable rapping that aren’t sell-outs at all (okay, we’ll pardon “I Got It from My Mama”).

Now, where does that get him? Number 38 on Billboard’s album chart so far. Anyway, give this record some attention, even though you might not want to, because it is one of the best R&B albums of the year (or at least a contender in the Most Surprisingly Good category).

• “Heartbreaker” (sample)
• “Over” (sample)
• “Impatient” (sample)

Hip-hop, for all its hard edges, dirty beats, and tough-guy posturing, seems to have an odd soft spot in it for rock. And no, we’re not talking about the Run D.M.C.-meets-Aerosmith/Public Enemy-meets-Anthrax kind of thing. We’re talking MOR, radio-ready, smooth adult rock. A certain former drummer of Genesis has been the longstanding godfather of this certain brand of cross-genre collaboration, but most of Phil’s, um, genius has been limited to sample use, particularly of the song “In the Air Tonight” (here, here, and here, for example) — though this touching tribute does feature a live duet with Lil’ Kim.

But the times are a-changin’, and as sample clearance gets more and more difficult and hip-hop gets more and more popular, rappers have been called upon to find the predecessor successor to Mr. Collins, one whose voice rings as clear in the studio as it does on record! And as the first decade of the new millennium stretches well past its salad days, the new king appears to be in the form of one Chris Martin, heartthrob to millions and father to Apple, who lends his falsetto to recent albums from Jay-Z, the Streets, Swizz Beats, and even Kanye West.

• Jay-Z - Beach Chair (sample)
• The Streets - Dry Your Eyes (sample)
• Swizz Beats - Part of the Flow (sample)
• Kanye West - Homecoming (sample)

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