Ranking the Grammy's choices for Best New Artist from 1997-2017

Grammy voters have a pretty good track record with retro acts in the recent past – Adele, Bruno Mars, and Amy Winehouse, in particular, demonstrate the undying appeal of ’60s revivalism. Meghan Trainor, however, is a clear miss. Even among a weak field (Courtney Barnett, James Bay, Tori Kelly, and Sam Hunt), her throwback bubblegum reeks of stale conformity.

Before they beat Kendrick Lamar for Best Rap Album, Best Rap Performance, and Best Rap Song, this Seattle indie hip-hop duo seemed harmlessly adorable. After their Grammy grand slam, they emerged as cultural tourists – and found their rising career stalled. 

If not for “I Don’t Want to Wait,” which was permanently embedded in the brains of a generation as the opening theme for "Dawson’s Creek," Lilith Fair folk singer-songwriter Paula Cole might be utterly forgotten today.

It was an evil genius idea – the itinerant Atlanta singer and songwriter Zac Brown combined college-bar jam-band vibes with back-slapping bro country and turned the Zac Brown Band into a veritable jukebox of radio-friendly cornpone.

Indie folk guy Justin Vernon broke through to the big leagues with his 2011 self-titled collection of fuzzy soft rock, but seemed determined to sabotage his mainstream career with "22, A Million," his divisive 2016 album of squirmy, brittle electronic pop.

The best thing about British faux-soul singer Sam Smith’s Best New Artist win in 2015 is that it meant Iggy Azalea didn’t win. The whole world was the real winner that year. 

Shelby Lynne is a powerfully talented singer and songwriter, but she had no business winning the Best New Artist Grammy in 2001. For one thing, Lynne had been performing professionally for more than a decade and had released six albums before 1999’s "I Am Shelby Lynne." And, as the butt-kicking, sexy country-rock of that album demonstrated, she was never going to have the kind of pop-friendly career that Grammy voters appreciate. 

The Arkansas band’s epic, angst-ridden, goth- and industrial-drenched debut, "Fallen," transcended nu-metal to become a surprisingly gigantic hit – 7 million copies sold in the U.S. and three hit singles. It’s not been easy for Evanescence since then, but they’ve survived – losing and replacing band members, long delays between albums, abrupt shifts in style to keep up with the times. 

John Legend’s brand of neo-soul, compared to all-time classics of the genre by D’Angelo, Maxwell, Erykah Badu, and Lauryn Hill, is the rough equivalent of Adele’s retro pop: safe, comforting, polished, and predictable. 

Going simply by Grammy wins, Adele is the best Best New Artist ever. From a different perspective, though, she’s evidence of the Grammys’ confirmation bias feedback loop – every time she beats Beyoncé (or Rihanna, or Jazmine Sullivan), it gives credibility to the awards’ preference for conservative throwback music over vital, innovative chart pop.

Norah Jones had already nailed down her trademark folk-jazz-pop by the time she released her debut, "Come Away With Me," in 2002. Despite some searing lyrical passages and gorgeously restrained vocals, though, that album gave us everything we were going to get from Jones – unlike Alicia Keys, who has been a tireless experimenter and cross-genre collaborator, Jones has stuck to her formula. 

One of the few TV talent show success stories, Underwood used her 2005 "American Idol" win as a springboard to pop and country superstardom. Still, you can’t help but feel she’s chosen a relatively safe path since then – compare her career to that of Miranda Lambert, a genuinely daring country star whose path to the top of the Nashville heap parallels Underwood’s, but with greater risks and bigger creative returns.

Part Queen, part Four Tops, even a little Statler Brothers, though they might not admit it – fun.’s formula for harmony vocal pop-rock should have been the sonic equivalent of sour milk, but the group’s craft and enthusiasm instilled their material with a sense of originality.

Rimes emerged in 1996, at the age of 13, to comparisons with Patsy Cline and Tanya Tucker. By the turn of the millennium, she was in full teen-pop crossover mode, a move that paved the way for Taylor Swift. Rimes’ output over the years has been inconsistent, but she’s pointedly followed her own path.

Adam Levine and company will never be favorites of the critical establishment, but they’ve consistently delivered smart, savvy, and just-funky-enough electronic pop rock for 15 years. They’ve helped transform the pop charts and exerted an outsized influence on modern rock.

Christina Aguilera emerged as a fully formed contender for the turn-of-the-century teen-pop crown, complete with powerhouse pipes, sleek Top 40 production, and coy schoolgirl sex appeal. It’s too bad that she’s never quite developed a convincing post-Disney artistic vision – Aguilera has loads of unfulfilled talent.

Jazz bassist Esperanza Spalding’s post-Best New Artist career might seem like a disappointment – no hit singles, no platinum albums, no spot on "The Voice." But anybody who expected Spalding to follow in Alicia Keys’ footsteps had the wrong idea – she’s a real-deal world-class jazz player and band leader, and probably the only Best New Artist winner subsequently appointed to the faculty at Harvard University.

Even in the year of #GrammysSoWhite, a black hip-hop act won Best New Artist – the first time since Lauryn Hill in 1997, and one of the few times a hip-hop performer has won a major category against pop and rock competition. 

Alicia Keys delivered a quadruple-threat performance on "Songs in A Minor," her debut album: singer, songwriter, pianist, and producer. She’s fulfilled the promise of that album and established herself as an assured crossover jazz/R&B/hip-hop/pop artist, confirming that that Grammy voters got it right when she won Best New Artist in 2002.

Amy Winehouse’s disastrous personal life – and the way it intersected with her material as a musician – too often overshadowed her singular talent. Unlike other recent Grammy favorites, her skill wasn’t just in resurrecting old pop formats for middle-aged audiences; she transformed ’60s soul and pop for the modern age. 

The former Fugees frontwoman’s win, inspired by the remarkable "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill," marked a new era for the Grammys, when the formerly unassailable borders between pop R&B, and hip-hop began to dissolve.