As someone who personally really enjoys music, I make an effort to try and watch the Grammys every year. Yeah, I’ll admit it, I generally have a lot of fun watching it. Seeing some of the best and brightest in music all celebrated in one night is generally entertaining. But, like clockwork, year after year, my experience is ruined by one impish ghoul of a man making his annual appearance to unfortunately claim more nominations. This fiend’s name? Jacob Collier.
Jacob Collier, an English multi-instrumentalist and producer, is famous for his vast musical intelligence and ability to turn live audiences into choirs. You’ve likely seen clips of him reharmonizing popular songs and conducting his audiences like church choirs on platforms like TikTok and Instagram, probably wearing his eye-watering rainbow-colored wardrobe. His viral split-screen videos on YouTube have made him a household name in certain circles In all his years he’s been nominated for 15 Grammys and has won 7. This year he’s been nominated for 3 Grammys, one for best arrangement, one for global music performance, and one for album of the year, winning none.
Yes, Collier is undoubtedly brilliant, but here’s the thing: despite all his brilliance, Jacob Collier is the most insufferable, soulless, bitterly pretentious musician I can think of in our modern scene. He can play nearly every instrument imaginable and reharmonize anything from The Beatles to Björk with uncanny ease. And yet that’s where my problem lies: his music doesn’t feel like an expression of anything real, It’s not a piece of himself conveyed musically — it’s just a meticulously constructed showcase of how much he knows about music, carefully avoiding saying anything meaningful.
Fans of this self-important scoundrel adore his technical skills; they love how he twists harmonies into AP Music Theory projects and transforms simple chord progressions into SAT math questions. There’s a fine line between innovation and indulgence, and Collier rarely tows it carefully. He instead careens from side to side leaving his listeners to marvel at his skill, without developing any lasting connection to his music.
Collier is the modern-day figurehead for a vague genre of music I like to call “skill without soul.” There’s a duo of fairly popular songs that I believe fall perfectly into the genre of “skill without soul”: “Whatcha Want” by Lawrence and “Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone. These songs have been called such things as “Old Navy music,” “unlimited talk and text music,” and “Target commercial music” because these songs sound like they were commissioned by marketing teams not thought up by the band or artist — Boone’s songs, in fact, have been featured in multiple car ads. Despite the lack of emotional depth, people champion it for the sheer technical prowess of these songs’ vocalists, because, at their core, that’s all they really have to offer—much the same with Collier. When some artists prioritize showmanship over substance, the humanity in their work inevitably fades.
Let’s not forget about Boone’s gaudy performance at the Grammy’s following his nomination for Best New Artist; that he luckily lost to Chappell Roan, someone with actual potential. Boone stood on the Grammys stage in a sequin tunic, doing backflips, while singing his car commercial music, I can’t think of a better example of style over substance in music than that.
Yes, Jacob Collier is a relatively new artist, and Lawrence and Benson Boone both released their respective songs I mentioned in 2024; “Skill without soul” is not a new phenomenon. From classical to jazz to prog. virtuosity has long been a hallmark of certain genres, often leading to the same fate: talent turns into an excuse for indulgence, creating a feedback loop of one-upmanship, alienating the broader audiences. For instance, classical pianist Yuja Wang’s technical brilliance dazzles, but her performances can feel more spectacle than emotional journey. Similarly, jazz trumpeter Chris Botti, while celebrated for his smooth playing, sacrifices the raw improvisation of jazz for commercial appeal, leaving his music emotionally distant. These artists prioritize showcasing skill over crafting genuine, resonant music, reducing artistry to a mere flex of technical ability.
The difference with Collier is that unlike in the past when the general public turned away from overly complex music in favor of parasocial comfort, today’s listeners have flipped the script. Modern listeners now embrace technical prowess over meaningful instrumentation, as if it inherently makes for great music. People have said for years that music will one day be nothing more than beeps and boops, and I’m starting to think it’s true.
Why this change? You may be asking. Well, I believe it has something to do with how we consume music in the modern age. Short-form content like TikTok and Instagram Reels encourages short clips of jaw-dropping virtuosity. In an age of endless scrolling and instant gratification, the instantaneous appeal of “wow” moments overrides the slow burn of emotional resonance. But it’s more than that—there’s a culture now, especially among listeners that have grown up with short clips like this, that equates complexity with greatness. Algorithms and influencers elevate musicians who can bend the rules of music theory or dazzle with multi-layered compositions in a constant pursuit of something new. But in the process, they’ve created an environment where the soul of the music is often sacrificed in favor of the spectacle of the musician. The result is a growing disconnect between what is technically impressive and what actually moves people on a deeper level.
In the end, Collier’s success at the Grammys is indicative of a larger issue in the music world: talent is measured more by what you can do with an instrument than by what you can convey through it. Sure, Collier is a genius of his craft, but genius doesn’t equate to greatness. Music isn’t just about showing off skill; it’s about telling a story, stirring emotions, and sharing a piece of yourself. It’s about creating something that resonates with the listener, not just impresses them. Music is a proclamation of beliefs, ideals and emotions through lyricism and instrumentation. Strip away that proclamation, and you’re left with a hollow, self-indulgent display of skill. And that’s not music, not really.
