Pharrell Williams could be headed for the GRAMMY history book this year. Williams is nominated for Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical, an award he previously won in 2003 as a member of the Neptunes (with Chad Hugo). If Williams wins this year, he'll become only the third producer to win in this category both on his own and with a partner. The first two were Quincy Jones (he won twice on his own and once with Michael Jackson) and Babyface (he won three times on his own and once with L.A. Reid).

This year's other nominees are Rob Cavallo, Dr. Luke, Ariel Rechtshaid, and Jeff Tweedy. This is the fifth nomination in this category for Cavallo (who won in 1998), the third for Williams and the second for Dr. Luke. Rechtshaid and Tweedy are first-time nominees in the category.

The 56th GRAMMY Awards will mark the 40th year that the award for Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical will be presented. That milestone is a good excuse to look back at the winners and nominees in the category through the years.

The Recording Academy added the Producer Of The Year category in 1974, 16 years after the inaugural GRAMMY Awards. The nominees that first year were Thom Bell, Rick Hall (who will receive a Recording Academy Trustees Award this year), Billy Sherrill, Lenny Waronker, and Stevie Wonder. On March 1, 1975, Bell was announced as the first winner.

Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical is now one of the night’s most anticipated awards. (The Non-Classical portion of the title was added in 1980 to distinguish the category from Producer Of The Year, Classical, which was introduced in 1979.)

Babyface has won Producer Of The Year four times, more than anyone else. He and Reid won as a team in 1992, when their credits included the Boomerang soundtrack and hits by TLC and Bobby Brown. Babyface won on his own three years in a row, from 1995 through 1997. (He’s the only producer to win the award in back-to-back years — much less score a “three-peat.”)

Jones and David Foster are close behind, with three Producer Of The Year victories each. Peter Asher, Arif Mardin and Rick Rubin have each won the award twice.

Jones was the first two-time winner in the category and also the first three-time winner.

Foster, who was born in Victoria, British Columbia, has won the award more times than any other producer who was born outside of the U.S.

Mardin holds the record for the longest span of Producer Of The Year awards: 27 years. He first won in 1975 (when his credits included albums by Bee Gees and Average White Band) and again in 2002 (the year of Norah Jones’ Come Away With Me).

Mardin set another record in 2002 as the oldest Producer Of The Year winner. He was 70 at the time.

The youngest winners of Producer Of The Year to date are Steve Lukather and Steve Porcaro of Toto and Michael Jackson. All were just 25 when they won.

Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis have received the most nominations for Producer Of The Year: 11. Jones and Foster are runners-up, with eight each. Babyface is next in line, with six.

Nigel Godrich, best known for his work with Radiohead, holds the bittersweet distinction of the most nominations without a win: five.

Wonder, who won in 1976, was the first self-produced artist to win. Many others have followed his lead, including last year’s winner, Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys.

Four self-produced artists have won in tandem with creative partners: Bee Gees (with Albhy Galuten and Karl Richardson), Jackson (with Jones), Lionel Richie (with James Anthony Carmichael) and Phil Collins (with Hugh Padgham).

Other twosomes to have won are Jam & Lewis, who had played together in the Time; Babyface & Reid, who had played together in the Deele; Brian Eno & Daniel Lanois; and the Neptunes (Williams and Hugo), who are members of N.E.R.D.

Producer Of The Year winners have diverse backgrounds. Before becoming a top producer, Asher played a part in the British Invasion as one-half of Peter And Gordon. Foster and the members of Toto were in-demand studio musicians. Jones was a top arranger and Hollywood film scorer.

Prior to winning Producer Of The Year, many recipients had previously won GRAMMYs in other capacities. Phil Ramone and Neil Dorfsman had won as engineers; Steve Lillywhite and Brendan O’Brien as engineer/mixers; and Larry Butler, Toto’s David Paich and Narada Michael Walden as songwriters.

Producer Of The Year winners have come from all over the world. Asher, Collins & Padgham, Eno, Lillywhite, Mark Ronson, and Paul Epworth were born in England. Foster and Lanois were born in Canada; Bell in Jamaica; Mardin in Turkey; Bee Gees in Isle of Man; Ramone in South Africa; and Walter Afanasieff in Brazil.

Six women have been nominated for Producer Of The Year (though, as yet, no woman has taken home the award). Janet Jackson was the first woman to be nominated. Jackson, Jam and Lewis were cited as a team in 1989 — the year of her hit-laden album, Janet Jackson's Rhythm Nation 1814.

In a similar fashion, Mariah Carey and Afanasieff were nominated as a team in 1991 — the year of her sophomore album, Emotions.

Paula Cole was the first woman to make the Producer Of The Year finals on her own. She was nominated in 1997, the year of her breakthrough album, This Fire.

In 1998, for the first (and, so far, only) time, the Producer Of The Year finals included two women: Sheryl Crow and Lauryn Hill. Crow was nominated for her work on The Globe Sessions; Hill for her work on The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill and Aretha Franklin's "A Rose Is Still A Rose."

The sixth and most recent instance of a woman receiving a Producer Of The Year nomination came in 2003 when the writing/producing team the Matrix, which includes Lauren Christy, were nominated. The team's work that year included tracks by Liz Phair and Hilary Duff.

There have been two ties for Producer Of The Year. In 1984 Foster tied with Carmichael & Richie. In 1992 Babyface & Reid tied with Eno & Lanois. 

Sadly, seven past winners for Producer Of The Year are no longer with us: Larry Butler, Maurice Gibb, Robin Gibb, Jackson, Mardin, Jeff Porcaro, and Ramone.

As noted above, The Recording Academy added the Producer Of The Year, Classical category in 1979. James Mallinson was the first winner. Robert Woods and Steven Epstein are tied for the most wins in the category with seven each. There have been three female winners: Judith Sherman (three times), Joanna Nickrenz (twice) and Elaine L. Martone (once).

View a complete list of winners for the Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical and Classical categories.

(Paul Grein, a veteran music journalist, writes for Yahoo Music.)

Since Mike Piacentini’s switch from computer science to audio engineering in college, his family has been his biggest champions. So, when he received his nomination for Best Immersive Album for Madison Beer's pop album Silence Between Songs, at the 2024 GRAMMYs, it was a no-brainer to invite his parents and wife.

“He’s always been into music. He had his own band, so [the shift] wasn’t surprising at all,” Piacentini’s mother says in the newest episode of Family Matters. “He’s very talented. I knew one day he would be here. It’s great to see it actually happen.”

In homage to his parents’ support, Piacentini offered to let his father write a short but simple acceptance in case he won: “Thank you, Mom and Dad,” he jokes.

Alongside his blood relatives, Piacentini also had support from his colleague Sean Brennan. "It's a tremendous honor, especially to be here with [Piacentini]. We work day in and day out in the studio," Brennan explains. "He's someone who's always there."

Press play on the video above to learn more about Mike Piacentini's support system, and remember to check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of Family Matters.

How Madison Beer Broke Free From Pressures Of Internet Fame & Created Her New Album 'Silence Between Songs'

It's fair to say that the 1980s hadn't been particularly kind to country legend Johnny Cash. Once considered the Don of the Nashville scene, the singer/songwriter suddenly found himself dropped by Columbia Records, recording terrible parody songs (remember "The Chicken in Black"?), and addicted to painkillers after a bizarre accident in which he was kicked by an ostrich.

But as the new decade approached, Cash's reputation gradually started to recover. A 1988 tribute album, 'Til Things Are Brighter, alerted a much younger indie generation of his catalog of classics. He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1992. And then arguably the biggest band in the world at the time, U2, invited him to take lead vocals on Zooropa's post-apocalyptic closer "The Wanderer." The scene was set for a triumphant comeback, and on 1994's American Recordings, the Man in Black duly obliged.

The Rick Rubin-produced album was far from a one-off. Cash delivered three American follow-ups in his lifetime (1996's Unchained, 2000's Solitary Man, and 2002's The Man Comes Around). And two posthumous volumes (2006's A Hundred Highways, 2010's Ain't No Grave)  further bridged the gap between his statuses as country outlaw and elder statesman — and helped further his legacy as one of country's all-time greats.

As the first American Recordings installment celebrates its 30th anniversary, here's a look at how the series deservedly rejuvenated the career of an American recording legend.

It United Him With A New Muse 

Best known for his pioneering work with Run-D.M.C., Beastie Boys, and Public Enemy, Rick Rubin seemed an unusual fit for a sixty-something country singer whose glory days were considered decades behind him. But left spellbound by Cash's performance at a Bob Dylan anniversary gig in 1992, the superproducer offered to make the Nashville legend a superstar once more.

Cash took some persuading, but eventually agreed to join forces on the assurance he'd be in the creative driving seat, and a new unlikely dream team was born. Rubin lent his talents to all six volumes of American Recordings — co-producing the middle two with Cash's son John Carter Cash – and won the first GRAMMY of his career for his efforts. The Def Jam co-founder would also later work his magic with several other '60s heroes including Neil Diamond, Yusuf and Neil Young.

It Saw Cash Lean Into Contemporary Music More Than Ever

Cash had never been averse to tackling contemporary material. He covered Bruce Springsteen's "Highway Patrolman" in 1983, just a year after it appeared on The Boss' Nebraska. But the American Recordings series saw the Man in Black embrace the sounds du jour like never before, whether the grunge of Soundgarden's "Rusty Cage," electro-blues of Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus," or most famously, industrial rock of Nine Inch Nails' "Hurt."

On paper, this could have been nothing short of a disaster, the sign of an aging artist desperately latching onto a much younger musical generation in a transparent bid for relevancy. But instead, Cash elevates the Gen X classics into modern hymns, his sonorous voice injecting a sense of gravitas and Rubin's production stripping things back to their bare but compelling essentials. Far from an embarrassing grandad act, this was the sound of a man respectfully making the source material his own.

It Returned Cash To The Charts 

Cash had reached the lower end of the Billboard 200 in the '80s as part of supergroups The Highwaymen and Class of '55. But you had to go all the way back to 1976's One Piece at a Time to find his last entry as a solo artist. The American Recordings series, however, slowly but surely restored the Man in Black to his former chart glories.

Indeed, while its first two volumes charted at numbers 110 and 170 respectively, the third peaked at a slightly more impressive 88 and the fourth at 22, his highest position since 1970's Hello, I'm Johnny Cash. The posthumous fifth entry, meanwhile, went all the way to No. 1, remarkably the first time ever the country legend had achieved such a feat with a studio effort (live album At San Quentin had previously topped the charts in 1971).

"Hurt" also became Cash's first solo US country hit in 14 years in 2003. And while it only landed at No. 56 on Billboard's Hot Country Songs chart, it remains Cash's most-streamed song to date with over 600 million streams on Spotify alone.

It Included Masterful Collaborators 

As well as handing over the producer reins to Rubin, Cash also surrounded himself with some of the rock world's finest musicians. Tom Petty, Red Hot Chili Peppers' Flea, and Fleetwood Mac's Lindsey Buckingham and Mick Fleetwood all lent their considerable talents to Unchained. Sheryl Crow and Will Oldham did the same on Solitary Man, while Nick Cave, Fiona Apple and Don Henley joined him in the studio on The Man Comes Around.

But Cash also kept things more traditional by recruiting fellow country legend Merle Haggard, 'fifth Beatle'Billy Preston, and "Ballad of a Teenage Queen" songwriter Jack Clement, while the presence of wifeJune Carter Cash and son John made the third American Recordings something of a family affair.

It Went Back To Basics 

While American Recordings was, in many respects, Cash's most forward-thinking album, it wasn't afraid to keep one foot in the past, either. For one, the star recorded most of its first volume in his Tennessee cabin armed with only a guitar, a throwback to his 1950s beginnings with first producer Sam Phillips.

Cash also trawled through his own back catalog for inspiration, re-recording several tracks he believed had unfairly gone under the radar including 1955 single "Mean Eyed Cat," murder ballad "Delia's Gone" from 1962's The Sound of Johnny Cash, and "I'm Leaving Now" from 1985's Rainbow.

It Proved He Was Still A Masterful Songwriter…

Although Cash's unlikely covers grabbed most of the attention, the American Recordings series showed that his stellar songwriting skills remained intact throughout his later years, too. "Meet Me in Heaven," for example, is a beautifully poignant tribute to the older brother who died at just 15, while the folksy "Let the Train Blow the Whistle" added to Cash's arsenal of railroad anthems.

"Drive On," meanwhile, is worthy of gracing any Best Of compilation, a powerful lament to those who came back from the Vietnam War with both emotional and physical scars ("And even now, every time I dream/ I hear the men and the monkeys in the jungle scream").

…And Still A Master Interpreter 

As well as putting new spins on his own songs and various contemporary rock favorites, Cash further displayed both his interpretive and curatorial skills by covering a variety of spirituals, standards and pop hits first released during his commercial heyday.

The likes of early 19th century gospel "Wayfaring Stranger," wartime favorite "We'll Meet Again," and Simon and Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" may have been firmly in Cash's wheelhouse. But more leftfield choices such as Loudon Wainwright III's offbeat morality tale "The Man Who Couldn't Cry" proved that even when outside his comfort zone, he could stamp his own identity with aplomb.

It Made Him An Unlikely MTV Star 

Cash was 62 years old when American Recordings hit the shelves — not exactly a prime age for MTV play. Yet thanks to some inspired creative decisions, the career-reviving series spawned two videos that received regular rotation on the network. Firstly, "Delia's Gone" caught attention for two major reasons: it was directed by Anton Corbijn, the man renowned for his long-running creative partnership with Depeche Mode, and it starred Kate Moss, the world's biggest supermodel at the time, as the titular victim.  

Then nine years later, Cash picked up six nominations — winning Best Cinematography — at the MTV Video Music Awards thanks to Mark Romanek's emotionally devastating treatment for "Hurt." Interspersing clips of the clearly fragile country singer at the rundown Museum of Cash with footage from his earlier days and artistic shots of decaying fruits and flowers, the promo perfectly embodied the transient nature of life. And it had the capacity to reduce even the hardest of hearts to tears.

It Added To His GRAMMY Haul 

Cash won almost as many GRAMMYs with his American Recordings series as he had during the previous 40 years of his career. The Man in Black first added to his trophy collection in 1995 when the first volume won Best Contemporary Folk Album. This was the first time he'd been recognized at the ceremony for his musical talents since the June Carter Cash duet "If I Were A Carpenter" won Best Country Performance for a Duo or Group with Vocal back in 1971  

Three years later, Unchained was crowned Best Country Album. And after picking up a Lifetime Achievement Award in 1999, Cash won 2001's Best Male Country Vocal Performance for "Solitary Man," then again in the same Category for "Give My Love to Rose"in 2003. He posthumously won two more GRAMMYs for Best Short Form Video, in 2004 for "Hurt" and in 2008 for "God's Gonna Cut You Down." In total, the American Recordings series won Cash six more GRAMMYs, bringing his overall count to 13. 

It Was A Powerful Epitaph

In 1997, Cash was told he'd just 18 months to live after being misdiagnosed with neurodegenerative condition Shy-Drager syndrome (later changed to autonomic neuropathy). He ended up outliving this prognosis by a good four years, but during this period, he lost the love of his life and was forced to record his swansong in-between lengthy stints in the hospital.  

Little wonder, therefore, that the American Recordings series is defined by the theme of mortality: see "The Man Comes Around," a biblical ode to the Grim Reaper ("And I looked, and behold a pale horse/ And his name that sat on him was death, and hell followed with him"), Death Row anthem "The Mercy Seat," and funeral favorite "Danny Boy." As with David Bowie's Blackstar, Cash was able to reflect on his impermanence in his own terms in a sobering, yet compelling manner that continues to resonate decades on. 

8 Artists Bringing Traditional Country Music Back: Zach Top, Randall King, Emily Nenni & More On Why "What's Old Becomes Beloved Again"

When Wyatt Flores released his second EP, Half Life, on April 19, he ended his celebratory Instagram post with one simple wish: "I hope these songs make you feel something."

That's been Flores' mantra since the rising country singer first began releasing music just three years ago. Hailed as one of the genre's most honest new stars, Flores speaks his truth in his red dirt music, on stage, and on social media. As Half Life showcases, he's unafraid to broach life's toughest topics, from suicidal thoughts on "Devil" to a complicated relationship with religion on "I Believe In God."

"I like to keep it very based on what I felt, and just try and go for that emotion," Flores says of his music. "If you can somehow captivate [listeners] in the story and make them feel the emotion through the song, then you've done your job. I guess that's all I'm after."

His unabashed vulnerability has made his music resonate widely — and fast. In 2023, Flores went from playing for hundreds to thousands in a matter of months, garnering more than 325 million global streams and more than 13 million TikTok likes along the way. He consistently uses his rapidly growing platform to champion self-care and mental health, even taking a brief tour hiatus in February to get himself back on track.

Two months later, Flores assures that he's feeling rejuvenated and healthier than ever, sparking some happier tunes that even caught him by surprise (more on that later). He'll spend the summer playing a mix of headlining shows, festival stages and a few supporting slots for Mitski, first kicking things off with his debut at Stagecoach on April 26.

As Flores gears up for tour, he sat down with GRAMMY.com during some time off in his native Oklahoma to chat about his remarkable rise, the complexities of being so vulnerable, and how he feels like he's getting the "best of both worlds."

Do you remember the first show that you were like, "What is happening?"

Yeah, it was Asheville, North Carolina. It was either the last week of April last year or the first week of May, I can't quite remember. But that was my first ever sold-out headline show. I think the venue cap was like 550, and they were screaming so loud that I got off stage and I was like, "Did anyone feel like there was a trash can going off in their ear?" And then my bass player, Bill, was like, "No, that's the last time you'll hear that frequency." 

That was where everything changed. It kind of started making me realize how real this was getting. Then, everywhere we went, [it was a] sold-out crowd, and they're excited as all get out. I literally thought that I was living a dream. 

I played at, you know, the s—iest hole in the walls you could ever imagine. I just thought I was gonna be there forever. Honestly, I was still having fun doing that. But I just couldn't believe the dramatic change that happened.

At what point did it actually feel real?

It was probably when we played Dallas [in December of] last year. That was the biggest room that we'd ever played. I was like, 3,000 people bought tickets to show up to my show. And then I just kind of had to kind of process like what was actually going on. I kept questioning it for the longest time, but that night it was just different.

We had just played in Fort Worth, like, three months [before that], and that was 600 people. So when we played Dallas, that was when I just looked at the crowd and I was like, Okay, this is it.

That's interesting, because you had to cancel a stretch of shows not long after that. Was that kind of all correlating — taking it in, but being overwhelmed from all of it?

Yeah, because there's a lot of things that went on in my life that I never took the time to process, and that was one of the first things — being like, This is my life from now on. And I think that's what I liked about the Life Lessons project so much, was giving listeners an inside view on what it looks like to be on this side of the fence. Because everyone thinks that it's gotta be the most wild thing to be an artist, but I don't think they realize what comes with it. 

I'm still sitting here going, I shouldn't be on this interview with you. I don't deserve it. Like, I don't have the cool style, I show up in sweatshirts and s—ty Adidas shoes. I don't put myself on a pedestal.

I've never wanted to become something I'm not, and that's kind of been the hard point. Because, you know, you got folks from the hometown [saying], "Don't forget who you are!" And then all of a sudden you get lost in all of it. And then you're sitting there going, Do I even know who I am? 

Making some healthier changes kind of opened up some other wounds that I bottled up. I never processed my grandpa's death, and at the same time that that was all going down, I was also firing management — which, they say in Nashville, the manager should be the one person that you do trust. 

I took one week off so I could come back for [my grandpa's] funeral, and had to delay some shows there. And then I was homeless for two weeks from another situation. But I was like, Nope, I'm just gonna work my ass off. I'm just gonna show up, do what I need to do. And I never took the time to actually look at anything that had happened. And that's kind of where the falloff went, because I was just trying to survive the chaos.

I'm sure it's hard being in the spotlight period while  going through so much  at the same time.

For a while, there were certain things that I did not like about myself. [I felt like I was] changing personalities. I know most people can't see it, but that was something that I was struggling with. Everyone was seeing how happy I was through social media — because I'm not afraid to post the silly s— that goes down on the road; me being a jackass in the van or something like that — but then people expected that from me. 

I had to fully come to terms with, wherever I am in my heart, that's who I am right there in that moment. I don't have to portray this image that people see just because we post it on social media.

I also think it's amazing to have the platform you do and be so honest about how you're feeling. Because it's probably healing for you, but also going to be healing for the people who see it — even if it's challenging and really personal to admit.

I put down my phone for a really long time, which was one of the best things ever. [Laughs.] I came back and I went through my DMs. People were like, "Thank you for saying something because I finally had the encouragement to say something to my wife" or something else. I'm glad that it gave people the encouragement to speak up, because if I don't, then how will they? 

I look at my fans, and I'm blessed. There's no better fan base, they're the sweetest people ever. They are diehard fans, but they talk to me like I'm their friend, like they've known me forever. For them to trust someone enough to say something [about] how they feel or what's going on in their lives, that means the absolute world to me.

Clearly that means that what you bring to the table is what your fans are also going to bring to the table for you.

One of the things that I've been trying to work through, is realizing that I can listen to their problems, but I can't take their problems with me. And that was something that I had to learn. I was like, I can't do that to myself, or I'm gonna plummet.

There was a time when we were in Colorado, and someone had sent me these messages [about this girl], and I ended up looking [her] up. She was an eighth grade girl, and the last video she had posted on TikTok was of "Please Don't Go." She'd committed suicide a month after she had posted that. Her mom was trying to raise attention towards bullying and things like that. 

It was hard for us. But we had to look at it through a new perspective. And it's like, we can't change someone's decision, as badly as you want to. And we try and look at it from this perspective of, How long did that song keep them here? Time is valuable, and even if it was for another month, at least it kept them here just a little bit longer, kept them through the fight. Even though you don't always win.

We're not just out here playing music. I still love the party songs. "West of Tulsa" is always fun to look out in the crowd, and they're having a great time. But we're not just playing music because we're here to distract people from their problems. We're lucky enough that we do get to save lives, and we get to do it through music. But it's also one of those things where I'm sitting there going, I'm a 22-year-old kid from Oklahoma, and I have this power. Am I going to use it correctly?

Now that you know that your music is so powerful to so many people, has it changed the way that you approach your songwriting?

A little bit. You know, the songs that I write are songs that I feel. I'm ADHD as all get out, so when I show up to write, it's whatever I'm feeling that day. But yeah, there's a little bit in the back of my head that says, Watch out for something like this, you don't want to say the wrong message here. 

I want to write these songs that are sad, that are very dark, and lost is kind of the feeling. Because I want people to see that I've gone through it, so that way, they can get a better understanding that they're not the only one. 

My inspiration was to be the artist that had those songs that kind of pulled me through my stuff. There's all sorts of jokes and like memes about when the song doesn't hit you hard enough the first time so you play it again, or, like, when you're sitting in a vehicle after you've already gotten home but you sit there until the song ends. That was always kind of a goal for me. I was like, I want to be that song that kind of helps them get through the next day. 

That's the way I kind of look at it when I play these shows. And I sit back and I look at the crowd, and I'm like, I get to be a part of y'all's lives every single day, and that is the coolest thing that I've ever done.

It's funny, there's always that interview question like, "What are your goals?" but it sounds like you've already accomplished the main one. 

Oh, absolutely. I've been having to find new goals because I've lived my dream. Like, if I died tomorrow, I'd hang my hat proudly. I've helped people, I've played all the venues — well, I guess I haven't played Red Rocks yet. That's coming up, though.

I'm still thinking, because it's just now finally hit me that, like, You've kind of done the damn thing. So it's like, What do you want to do now? I have all these wild ideas. I usually throw out some out of pocket s— and then I let someone else come up with if it's gonna work or not. My business manager hates me. [Laughs.]

Were you raised to be so connected with your feelings, or was it just kind of an innate thing for you?

I think I always felt out of place wherever I was. I was always kind of the weird kid. My friends hated me because I started talking about sappy s—. I'd want to have deep, meaningful conversations and sometimes they'd be like, "Would you just shut up?" [Laughs.]

But what I realized is that I'm very big on connection. At some point, not fitting in and being different kind of all changed for me. I was like, I can't change it, so I might as well be it.

Have you ever questioned how honest you're being in your music? 

For the most part, I don't try and hold back. In some ways, it is scary, but in other ways, it's kind of just telling your truth so people don't get shocked by something that you do.

For the first time, I'm writing happier songs. And I'm skeptical to see how people take that. I mean, I've had Life Lessons and stuff like that, but yeah, this is definitely a weird time in my life where I'm like, I'm writing happy songs, and I don't even know how to feel about it. Now, I'm like, How do I share happiness? How do I contain that idea, and that emotion, and put it into a song so it comes out to the listener and they feel it?

You're allowed to be happy! And with everything that's been happening for you lately, I'm not surprised you're happy.

[Fans] always say "We made the right person famous." It's been two short years of really doing this thing. And we're blessed.

I freakin' love playing live, I just had other things going on in the background that I never took time [to process]. For a while, I wanted to blame a lot of things that wasn't it. And then, I went to Onsite [Workshops, a therapy, counseling and wellness retreat center in Tennessee] for like a week and got my head back to normal. 

Playing live is what makes it all worth it. I knew that I was going to have to work for this, and I'm getting to see the fruits of my labor. I'm finally getting some time off. I'm getting to actually spend some quality time, but I at least now know how to have quality time in the healthiest way. Because for a while, I couldn't shut the other brain off. I'd come home and I was still somewhere else. 

I can't believe that I get the best of both worlds. That usually doesn't happen where you get your cake and eat it too. S—, I might go fishing later! I get to be on the road, play to thousands of people, and then I get to go fishing? I think the only thing that's missing is I don't have a boat. Man, I just might have to weld me one.  

Meet Charles Wesley Godwin, The Rising Country Singer Who's Turning "A Very Human Story" Into Stardom

Mastodon's drummer and singer Brann Dailor assures you he did not purchase his shiny golden gramophone at his local shopping mall.

“I won that! I’m telling you. It’s a major award,” he says in the latest episode of Where Do You Keep Your GRAMMY?

The metal musician won his first GRAMMY award for Best Metal Performance for Mastodon's “Sultan’s Curse” at the 2018 GRAMMYs.

“‘Sultan’s Curse’ was the jumping-off point for the whole theme of the album,” he explains. “The protagonist is walking alone in the desert, and the elements have been cursed by a Sultan.”

It’s a metaphor for illness — during the creation of the album, the band’s guitarist Bill Kelliher’s mother had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and bassist Troy Sanders’s wife was battling breast cancer.

For the band, the GRAMMY award represented their version of the American Dream and culmination of their career work. Even if Mastodon didn’t win the award, Dailor was happy to be in the room: “We felt like we weren't supposed to be there in the first place! But it's an incredible moment when they actually read your name."

Press play on the video above to learn the complete story behind Brann Dailor's award for Best Metal Performance, and check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of Where Do You Keep Your GRAMMY?

Brann Dailor Talks 20 Years Of Mastodon, New 'Medium Rarities' Collection And How He Spent The Coronavirus Lockdown Drawing Clowns