The Biggest Snubs of the Grammy Nominations, circa 2026

By Katie Blaney

Every year, the Grammy nominations arrive like an unexpected school report: half the class is paraded around the hall as shining examples of artistic virtue, while the rest are left wondering how on earth that C* happened. This year’s list was no exception. There were cheers, of course—Kendrick Lamar and Lady Gaga need no introduction, and the Academy has once again rolled out its red carpet of approval for them—but the gasps echoed far louder.

Because, my god, the snubs.

The 2026 nominations seem to have been curated by someone who took a long contemplative stroll, asked the universe for guidance, received nothing back, and simply thought, “Yes, that’ll do.” And so, several of the year’s most interesting, inventive or just plain unavoidable artists found themselves uninvited to the big dance; much to the bafflement of critics, and clearly fans.

Take Lorde, for example. The New Zealand enigma returned this year with Virgin, an album so atmospheric it practically arrived with its own weather system. Critics adored it. Fans adored it. Even people who pretend not to care about pop music somehow knew every lyric. Yet, somehow, the Grammys responded with the deafening silence of a committee who had accidentally popped out for a sandwich when the ballots were being counted. How she walked away with not a single nomination remains one of our era’s great cultural mysteries. Perhaps the Academy simply isn’t ready to award a woman who writes in lowercase. Although, it definitely went platinum in my flat this year.

Equally, perplexing is the continued absence of The Weeknd, whose relationship with the Grammys is now giving on-again, off-again celebrity couples a run for their money. After previously boycotting the awards, he returned this year with the sleek and emotionally razor-sharp Hurry Up Tomorrow. One might reasonably assume that the Academy would embrace his comeback with open arms—or at the very least a polite handshake. Instead, they offered… nothing. Not a whisper. Not even a lonely technical category to suggest they’d skim-listened. For an artist who has shaped the sound of a generation, the omission borders on comical—almost as if the Academy simply misplaced his album under a teetering stack of paperwork and then pretended not to notice.

Then there’s Gracie Abrams, who has spent the past year becoming the softly spoken powerhouse of emotional storytelling. Her track “That’s So True” may as well have been playing on a loop in every café, bedroom, and late-night taxi in existence. It was vulnerable, beautifully crafted, and, crucially, everywhere. Yet the Grammys responded with the enthusiasm of a pre-drink that has no mixer: mild alarm, followed by resolute avoidance. Gracie’s fans are, understandably, unimpressed.

Still, if you thought the Academy had finished ignoring obvious success, enter Alex Warren, TikTok’s sweetheart-turned-actual pop star. His single Ordinary was anything but; it dominated the charts to such an extent that even people who proudly proclaim “I don’t listen to chart music” found themselves humming it. Yet, no major category nominations. He did receive a nod for Best New Artist—which feels rather like handing someone a scented candle when they were expecting Champagne.

Elsewhere in the kingdom of puzzlement sits Jack Antonoff—that omnipresent producer whose fingerprints appear on every other chart-topping album. This year he helped shape some of the industry’s most ambitious records, and still, no Producer of the Year nomination. It’s almost impressive, really, the consistency with which the Academy overlooks him. One imagines he now attends nomination announcements with the resigned look of a man who knows the answer before the question is asked.

Country music, too, has been given a curious cold shoulder. Artists such as Megan Moroney and Ella Langley, both of whom had remarkably strong years, found themselves relegated to the periphery. Despite significant acclaim and ever-growing audiences, their names were conspicuously absent from the major categories. Clearly, the Grammys continue to treat country as that charming cousin they see only at weddings.

What of Benson Boone, the rising star who has been selling out arenas faster than some people can say “refresh ticket page”? Apparently, the Academy did not receive the memo or simply decided that arena tours are quaint but not quite award-worthy. His fans, naturally, have taken to the internet with what I can only describe as a strange level of outrage?

The broader question isn’t simply who was snubbed, but why. Perhaps the Academy is attempting to rewrite the musical rulebook. Perhaps they are allergic to obviousness. Or perhaps the nominations committee simply favours surprise over sense. Whatever the case, this year’s snubs have sparked a collective eyebrow-raise across the industry.

Although, one might argue, in a strangely comforting way, that the annual outrage is part of the ritual. The Grammys wouldn’t quite be the Grammys without at least five questionable omissions, three debatable inclusions, and one artist who looks utterly confused at having been nominated at all.

Until awards night, the debate will rage on.  If this year’s nominations prove anything, it’s that musical brilliance and Grammy recognition remain only loosely acquainted. Perhaps that’s why we talk about them so much. After all, nothing unites us quite like a shared sense of disbelief.