To say that Laura Jane Grace has had an eventful year would be an understatement.

Until May 2012, she was known to the world as Tom Gabel, lead singer, songwriter and guitarist for Florida punk band Against Me! Then she openly announced her name change, that she was transgendered and that she would undergo electrolysis and hormonal therapy in order to physically transition into a woman.

Rather than disappear from the public eye, however, Grace has maintained visibility, carrying on with her Against Me! duties both onstage and in the studio. She recently completed the band's sixth studio album, Transgender Dysphoria Blues, a title that is almost certain to bring massive attention to her experience when it's released in the fall.

Grace, who is married with a daughter, has no regrets about her decision and says her professional life hasn't changed all that much.

"It's been heavy, no doubt, and it's still a transition I'm learning as I'm going, you know," says Grace. "This past year has been weird in that my time has been spent either totally in the studio or on tour, with a little bit of time at home. So being in those two totally different environments have been different experiences.

"But touring has been pretty easy. It's been no big deal. People have been really accepting and bands have been really encouraging, and for most people it's been a nonissue. Being on tour and being able to live like this has its advantages, too, where it allows me to think a lot and sort stuff out in my head."

Lucas Silveira, singer/songwriter in Toronto-based band the Cliks, can relate. Released in March, Black Tie Elevator is the band's first album in four years, and Silveira's first creative output as a fully transitioned man.

Silveira, a prominent member of Toronto's LGBT community, had released three prior albums with the Cliks when he decided it was time to "trust that inner instinct."

"It was basically about realizing that I needed to be happy," he says. "Whatever I needed to do, I was just going to do it."

Silveira took testosterone for three years, a measure he had initially avoided for fear of permanently losing his voice.

"It was a big, big worry," Silveira says. "When I first came out as a trans guy, I was told pretty much right away that if I was to consider being a singer for the rest of my life, it's just not something that I could do — apparently because it put your vocal cords in a place where you weren't able to control what you did."

After being advised to take extremely low dosages of the drug in order to not shock the vocal cords, Silveira recovered his vocal abilities — albeit in a lower register — within 18 months.

"I think when I hit about a year and a half, I felt really safe," he says. "Before that, it wasn't that I didn't think I could sing; it's the way that your voice transitions, it starts dropping and your high end drops. But your bottom end doesn't keep dropping, it kind of puts itself in this box. Then the more you sing and the more you train, it's almost as though the bottom drops lower, and then at about two years, the top end starts coming back a little bit. It fluctuates in these very bizarre places, but I think, at this point now, I've been on [testosterone] for over three years, and I feel like it's settled."

The physical changes Silveira experienced also translated into his music: the Cliks' first three albums were decidedly alt-rock, while Black Tie Elevator is soulfully steeped in R&B. Silveira said his musical adjustment occurred organically.

"I found myself writing differently, not because I was actually consciously writing differently: I was hearing a different voice coming out of my body," he says. "I felt really comfortable going to these places where I never had felt genuine before. And I think that I went into this place where I used to listen to tons of soul music, R&B and blues music when I was younger. My female voice didn't sound genuine in it.

"It became comfortable, but also emotionally I just felt really, really [good]. I'm really not sure why it happened, but I liked it, so I just kind of went with it."

As much as Silveira has publically spoken about his transformation as part of the university and college lecture circuit, he says, "I go about as much into gender in my music as any other man who writes music. I just write from a place where I'm human and this is my experience. I'm never ever thinking about my gender when I write. In fact, I think that's where I escape it, and I am just who I am. If it comes out as me writing like a man, well, I am a man."

Unlike Silveira, Grace has hinted at her struggles with gender dysphoria in some Against Me! songs.

"A lot of the songs we've been playing before I came out, I've already been playing since [I was] 17 or 18 years old," says Grace. "And I'm 32. Dealing with issues of gender dysphoria and stuff like that, I think I was doing that the whole time I was writing a lot of those songs anyway. It works more on that level for me."

While Silveira and Grace are two of the more recent transgendered musicians to embrace their identity, the music community boasted some earlier visionaries. Classical synthesizer pioneer Wendy Carlos was still known as Walter when she won three GRAMMY Awards for 1968's Switched-On-Bach. In 1979 Georgia punk icon Wayne County became Jayne County and years later, in 1995, she told her story in her autobiography, Man Enough To Be A Woman. Formerly the lead vocalist for the rock group King Kobra, Mark Free came out as Marcie Free in 1993.

In recent years, many artists have expressed their support for the LGBT community, including Lady Gaga, Carly Rae Jepsen, Belinda Carlisle, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, and Madonna, among others. Grace has noticed more artists embracing their own identities, and says it helped her make her own decision.

"I feel that there's been a lot of momentum to visibility in the last year or two," says Grace. "Definitely for me, leading up to coming out, I was encouraged by seeing a lot of the musicians embracing the people that they are."

Now that she's emerged as a woman, Grace says she feels her music will also deliver a clearer message.

"I'm feeling that the context has shifted so people are also able to understand what you're saying. That was always my frustration. It wasn't like it was the wrong voice coming out. I felt that people didn't understand the things that I was saying because it was being perceived as coming from this angry young white male.

"So being able to frame it that much more makes me feel more comfortable and being reassured who is saying it and what is being said."

(Nick Krewen is the Toronto-based co-author of Music from Far and Wide: Celebrating Forty Years of the JUNO Awards, a contributor to The Routledge Film Music Sourcebook and has written for The Toronto Star, TV Guide, Billboard, Country Music. He was a consultant for the National Film Board's music industry documentary Dream Machine.)

A synthesizer is a revolutionary musical instrument that creates (synthesizes) a wide variety of sounds using electricity and a combination of different frequencies. 

The synthesizer now exists in many different forms, but really soared to fame in the '70s and '80s, powered by visionary women. Born from the 1922 debut of the Theremin, an invention popularized by pioneer Clara Rockmore, the synthesizer has since become a staple across all musical genres.

In 1964, Bob Moog introduced the first modular voltage-controlled synthesizer and radically changed the sound and composition of music — the Moog Modular remains one of the most sought-after synths to this day. It was another female synth pioneer, Wendy Carlos, then a music composition graduate student at Columbia University, who worked closely with Moog to refine and develop his iconic namesake synth. Six years later, Carlos brought the Moog to a much wider audience with her GRAMMY-nominated debut hit album, Switched-On Bach.

Thanks to producers like Giorgio Moroder, who transformed disco with space-age sounds on Donna Summer's 1977 dance hit "I Feel Love," synths — then still bulky, complex and incredibly expensive — burrowed their way into popular music. Synths became essential instruments in the burgeoning sounds of the '80s with new wave, synth-pop, house, and techno bringing them to different audiences.

Read on to learn about five women synthesizer legends of past and present: pioneering synth composers Wendy Carlos and Suzanne Ciani, New Order's Gillian Gilbert, LCD Soundsystem's Nancy Whang, Nation of Language's Aidan Noell.

These are not the only women who've made the synthesizer their own and used it to bring us to new sonic worlds and inspire the next generation of pioneering artists, but they are essential names you should know. (Check out the 2021 documentary Sisters with Transistors for further learning.)

Suzanne Ciani

Dubbed the "diva of the diode," Suzanne Ciani is a pioneering electronic composer and modular synth wizard. She's been active since the late-60s creating countless unforgettable and otherworldly sounds with synths, from the iconic Coca-Cola fizz sound to experimental ambient music with younger generations of electronic composers such as Jonathan Fitoussi and Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Ciani performs mesmerizing live modular synth shows, and back in 1980, blew David Letterman's mind with her trippy demonstration of the legendary Prophet-5 synth and her vocoder setup.

In 1968, while getting her Master's degree in composition at UC Berkeley, Ciani met Don Buchla, the creator of the keyboard-less Buchla analog modular synthesizer. She went on to work with his company after graduation, soldering synth parts so she could afford her own Buchla synth. While working there, she asked the founder to teach her and her fellow curious coworkers synth lessons, but after the first class, Buchla told her they didn't want women in the class. The blatant sexism didn't stop Ciani, who put out her debut album in 1970 and moved to New York City in 1974 with her Buchla, soon after landing solo performance gigs at art galleries.

Her groundbreaking career revolutionized sounds in music, advertising, and entertainment. In addition to her iconic Coke sound, she composed jingles for AT&T, General Electric, Energizer and other major companies, as well as sound effects for a Star Wars disco album, and used her vocoded voice to give sound to the Xenon pinball game. Over the years she's put out tons of studio and live albums and has earned five GRAMMY nominations in the Best New Age Album category, demonstrating the genre represents so much more than flutes and chimes.

Wendy Carlos

You can't talk about synthesizers without talking about the GRAMMY-winning pioneering electronic composer Wendy Carlos. 

Long before Kim Petras became the first openly trans woman to take home a GRAMMY for "Unholy" with Sam Smith in 2023, Carlos took home three golden gramophones for her debut album Switched-On Bach in 1970 (nine years before she came out as trans). The groundbreaking album consists of short pieces of Bach's music played on the then-new Moog synthesizer, an electronic instrument she helped develop with Bob Moog, that would radically change the sound of popular music forever. All three of her Switched-On Bach wins were in the classical category, including Classical Album of the Year and Best Engineered Recording, Classical.

Switched-On Bach was a true labor of love and a smash hit. Working with classical musician Rachel Elkind, Carlos spent over 1,100 hours in the studio — synths then could only play one note at a time. After it was released in October 1968, it hit No. 10 on the Billboard 200 and held the No. 1 spot on the Classical Albums chart for a whopping three years. It introduced people to the future of synthesized music, and also brought new listeners into classical music. Eighteen years later, it was certified platinum by the RIAA, the first synthesized album and only the second classical album to do so.

When Carlos was working on The Well-Tempered Synthesizer, a classical synth album featuring Bach, Beethoven and others, she read A Clockwork Orange and found that her music fit the book's dystopian eeriness of the book. She shaped "Timesteps" to fit the story and sent it to director Stanley Kubrick, who hired Carlos and her long-time producer Elkind to create the soundtrack for his film adaptation of the book. 

The trio reunited in 1980 for The Shining soundtrack. Carlos also composed the 1982 Tron soundtrack on the Moog and a Crumar General Development System (GDS), an early keyboard synthesizer workstation, of which only 10 were made.

Gillian Gilbert

In 1980, Gillian Gilbert joined iconic British new wave band New Order in its creation after the tragic loss of Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis. She was brought on as the second guitarist to support lead guitarist Bernard Sumner, who was taking on singing duties.

She was one of the handful of talented women working behind-the-scenes at Manchester's Factory Records. She was just 19, in college studying graphic design, working at Factory Records and playing guitar in a punk band. 

She didn't yet know how to play keys or song write, so she took piano lessons and learned to read music. Inspired by their experience in the New York club scene, the band wanted to experiment with synthesizers and programmed music and she played a pivotal role in their groundbreaking sonic exploration.

"There was always a lot of the typical: 'Oh, are you the singer?' No, I’m not the singer, I play instruments. But I never got that [sexism] at Factory Records," Gilbert said in "I Thought I Heard You Speak: Women at Factory Records." 

"There was never anything about macho blokes. We were all one, and I wasn’t any different to anybody else, and the whole Factory thing was like that. There were a lot of women in Factory that gave as good as they got. It was never us and them – it was all just one big family."

In 1983, New Order and Factory Records hit gold with "Blue Monday," a pivotal club track that brought the punk and disco kids together — and the best-selling 12-inch of all time. Clocking in at seven-and-a-half minutes, it was the band's (very successful) attempt to make a completely electronic track.

"It was my job to program the entire song from beginning to end, which had to be done manually, by inputting every note. I had the sequence all written down on loads of A4 paper Sellotaped together the length of the recording studio, like a huge knitting pattern. But I accidentally left a note out, which skewed the melody," Gilbert told The Guardian about "Blue Monday" in 2013.

In 1991, Gilbert and New Order drummer Stephen Morris started side project The Other Two, releasing dance pop bop "Tasty Fish," two albums and a lot of music for TV. The two have been married since 1994 and, when the band was working on 2001's Get Ready, their second child, then just an infant, was diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder. Gilbert left the band to care for her, and was replaced with Phil Cunningham.

Gilbert rejoined the band to record 2016's Music Complete, a welcome return to the dancefloor-ready synth pop they pioneered in the '80s. 

Nancy Whang

In 2002, James Murphy released his debut single as LCD Soundsystem, "Losing My Edge" and needed to quickly form a band to play the gigs he'd been getting booked for off of its success. When he called on his NYC scene friend Nancy Whang to join LCD Soundsystem, her musical experience consisted of taking piano lessons in her youth. 

Whang worked with Murphy and the rest of the band to create timeless, brooding synth pop, evolving their sound a long way from their DIY post-punk days. Her interest in synths began with her love of new wave—the second 45 record she ever bought was from Depeche Mode.

LCD has earned a reputation for well-oiled live performance, in no small part to Whang's deft playing and captivating stage presence, offering a stellar, hypnotizing live show time after time.

Last year, she told Synth History that her favorite synths are the Moog Mavis and the Yamaha CS-80, which she usually keeps in her bedroom and that New Order's second album, 1983's Power, Corruption & Lies is one of the top three albums that transformed her.

Whang also DJs and makes music outside of the band, including groovy dance tunes with John MacLean as The Juan MacLean, one of DFA's earliest signed acts and LCD's influences. Just as her voice is a key instrument in LCD's magic equation, it's been featured in influential early-00s alternative dance tunes like Soulwax's "E Talking" and Munk's "Kick Out The Chairs." In 2022, she joined Aidan Noell, the keyboardist in rising Brooklyn synth-pop trio Nation of Language, to drop a fresh electro cover of one of the earliest Detroit proto-techno tracks, "Sharevari."

Aidan Noell

Like Gilbert and Whang, Aidan Noell is a self-taught synth master. She and her husband, Ian Devaney, along with bandmate Alex MacKay, are keeping the spirit of new wave alive with Nation of Language, their Brooklyn synth-pop outfit inspired by the likes of Talking Heads and Kraftwerk. When Noell and Devaney got married in 2018, they requested donations towards recording their debut album instead of gifts. They self-released Introduction, Presence in May 2020 and quickly started building a following that included loyal support from taste-making Los Angeles-based KCRW DJ Travis Holcombe.

Nation of Language have been touring pretty much non-stop since COVID lockdown ended, but still had time to release a sophomore album, A Way Forward, on London indie Play It Again Sam in November 2021. They kicked off 2022 by making their television debut on "The Late Show with Steven Colbert" and dropped their third album, Strange Disciple, last September.

While Devaney is the lead songwriter for Nation of Language, Noell's deft keyboard and synth skills are an essential part of their recordings and live performance. In 2021, she wrote and released her first solo music — inspired by her love of '80s deep cuts she calls "strange new wave" — on a Behringer MS1 synth, demonstrating her natural songwriting ability. She also taught herself to DJ and is actively creating a supportive community among other indie musicians, particularly with other women synth players, like Whang.

"My friend Michelle [Primiani] [was] the band Glove, she’s one of my synth icons, and she just got the Korg Prologue which is an extremely cool machine. There’s a lot about aesthetics that draws me to synthesizers which seems superficial, but there is a look and feel to certain synths that just draw me in. Ian and I would love to have a MiniMoog. We always talk about what synth we would buy if we won the lottery. We don’t play the lottery though," Noell said in 2021.

Aidan Noell bears the torch for the next generation of the ever resourceful and pioneering synth sisterhood.

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Laura Jane Grace is on the precipice of a brand new life.

The Against Me! frontwoman just got married in a whirlwind, to comedian Paris Campbell. Her Jeep got sideswiped by a drunk driver; when we spoke, the pair were on an Amtrak from Chicago to St. Louis to pick it up from the mechanic. At press time, Grace and Campbell will soon drive it back to their new, shared home in Chicago: they've been handed the keys, and they're in the center of that maelstrom.

"We've moved Paris' apartment from New York to Chicago, and now we're moving my apartment to the house we got," Grace tells GRAMMY.com over the phone, sitting on the tracks with Campbell in Joliet, Illinois. "It's scientifically proven that moving is one of the most stressful things you can do in life.

"Just take my word for it," she quips, when asked if that's true. "Don't Google it."

Grace has done a lot of Googling as of late — to mixed results. Her latest solo album, Hole in My Head — helmed by Drive-By Trucker and Dexateen Matt Patton — dropped Feb. 16, and the press cycle rolls on.

Warm, lived-in and melodic songs like "Dysphoria Hoodie," "Birds Talk Too" and "Tacos and Toast" comprise a satisfying continuation of what Grace does best: yowly, heartfelt punk rock. But presenting them to the world has been challenging. Tidbits from the bio get blown out of proportion. Flat-out mischaracterizations make it to print, and stay there.

She's not bitter about any of it; she's mirthful. "I do think that, ultimately, [you shouldn't] read the reviews, and that you shouldn't live and die by what people say about the art you're making," she says. "But I would rather people are saying good things than bad things. I notice that people are saying good things."

They certainly are. Read on for an interview with Grace about the process behind Hole in My Head, parenting, espresso, Slash versus Izzy Stradlin, and much more.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

I'm sure you've talked about these songs to death. I want to talk about the — let's say indignities — of releasing a record. Like, "Hey guys, it's three weeks old! Do… you still like it?" as it recedes into the rearview.

Yeah. I was thinking that to myself last night, because I'm a little burnt out on social media at the moment. But I feel that pressure of like, Alright, you put out a record, you've got to promote on social media — you'd better make a post or else people are going to forget that literally last week you put out a record that you've been waiting a year to put out!

And it can be a little disheartening at times, for sure.

Psychologically, what's it like to read the reviews? It seems like the doomsday clock for digital media is at 11:59. Reviews used to make or break careers; these days, they seem to comprise an irrelevant sideshow.

It's strange, because I still think of reviews ultimately in the context of how I thought about them with zines. Oftentimes, you would look through zines and you would see the reviews, and that would be your clue and context of what was happening — other bands to tour with if they had a record coming out, or whatever. People that you'd reach out to.

I do think that, ultimately, [you shouldn't] read the reviews, and that you shouldn't live and die by what people say about the art you're making. But I would rather people are saying good things than bad things. I notice that people are saying good things.

And then also, as you said, I'm aware of the layoffs [in music journalism and digital media as a whole], and I'm aware that you've almost got to be thankful for [any press], as a whole community.

Part of my job is promoting those media outlets in a way, too. And that's just through literally just moving your thumb a couple of inches or whatever and pressing repost or retweet or whatever.

You had a funny tweet recently about how the reviews focus on the relative brevity of the songs, even though that's conventional on pop radio. Is that kind of thing somewhat bemusing — or frustrating?

I get frustrated with it, because the record took two years to write, and then it takes however long to record. But then, it all comes down to the bio. The bio is what all the journalists use as their touch points or talking points.

So, if you say the wrong thing in the bio, then everyone is asking those wrong questions for every interview. It's like that the whole time. It's almost like the bio makes or breaks your record.

And then, you're also tasked with trying to understand something that you just made; with a bio, that's oftentimes really hard to do. You're like, "I don't know, I just wrote it. I don't know what it means. I don't want to have to explain it," but then you got to explain it for the bio.

Without naming any names — and you can obscure the language if you like — what's an example of a wrong question you get asked?

The song length thing is one thing, but then the whole thing where people being like, "Oh, the record has a real '50s influence." It's like, "Shut the f— up. It just says that in the bio. Did you even listen to the record? Have you heard it?"

It just sounds like an Against Me! record. It's literally the same process that I've been doing for the past 25 years. I'm not writing songs any differently or approaching them any differently. I read one review that said that it had "handclaps and whoas, which are decidedly not punk." I'm like, What?

Outside of the press, where are we catching you in life, with Hole in My Head out in the world? You're on the precipice of a completely new epoch of existence.

That's what it is. Huge, massive changes happening in life. And that's the thing you don't want to happen in a way, with a record — where a year in between completing it and putting it out because you've got to pull yourself back to that place to even talk about it for interviews then, which can be hard sometimes.

I'm excited about songs that we recorded back in December and then excited about writing new music and just now having a record released holds you in place in that way. So, having it out is a good thing, and [being] free to move forward.

This is a cliché, but whatever: Hole in My Head sounds like a snapshot of where you are in the moment. Some records feel like promotional noise and don't tell me anything about the artist. Have you written in that slice-of-life, "Tacos and Toast" way before?

I think I was building towards that. I am happy with the way that song came out, but it took a lot of work to get to that kind of flow. But I think a song like "Shelter In Place," off of Stay Alive, was a precursor to that style, maybe.

Are you talking about honing your focus on syllables and stresses and stuff? Or themes?

More just relaxing into it.

Tell me more about that.

Like I said, the song "Shelter In Place" was a precursor to that song, because they both mention espresso. So, you're singing about your morning coffee, which to an 18-year-old punk kid probably seems really uninteresting. But when you're in your forties, you're like, Hell yeah. My morning cup of espresso — looking forward to that. I want to sing about that. I'm excited about that.

But I think it takes a nuance to be able to work that into a song. And I admire songwriters like John Prine or Dan Reeder, who were able to sing about their morning breakfast steaks and s— like that and make it good.

**I'm a huge John Prine fan. I don't sense he sat down and overworked anything. It all seemed as natural as breathing. So, it's almost like unlearning.**

Totally. That is what it is: natural as breathing, if you're writing about eggs, you're not trying, and it's coming off way better. And there we are with a Jonathan Richman reference: "They're not tryin' on the dance floor."

I'm not going to make you explain this song, because it's a song. But "I'm Not a Cop" touched a nerve in me, as per how we police each other day-to-day.

There's that, and then I think also it even relates to being a parent and realizing you don't have the authoritarian bone in your body and that that's not you, but I don't know. There might not be many things I'm confident about in life, but I'm definitely confident about that statement.

And, also the observation of seeing a cop at Superdawg eating a hot dog. It makes me smile every time I sing it.

Tell me more.

Literally, I drove by the Superdawg, which is a famous hot dog place in Chicago, and there was a cop in there eating a hot dog. It's f—ing hilarious.

Has parenting been a mind-bending, acid-like experience for you? Or did it all come naturally?

Yeah, mind-bending for sure. Last night, I got in a pseudo-argument with my kid, because they were criticizing me for only playing rhythm guitar that I never played solos. [Note: Grace's child uses they/them pronouns.]

They were specifically saying this because they're just a better guitar player than me already. And they really have focused on solos and doing really intricate guitar playing parts. I'm like, Goddamn, this is just surreal to have your kid digging into you about your guitar playing style. 

Basically, they're saying they're Slash, and you're Izzy Stradlin — suck it.

Are they hitting ultimate-guitar.com? What's going on?

They're rad. They're really, really, really good. I feel like they're seconds away from starting their own band.

What are their influences?

I gave them a Fleas and Lice record yesterday to listen to. They're really into punk, and really into odd stuff. At this point, I'm looking to them to see what's going on and what I should be listening to.

You mentioned that this is the process you've always abided by. But, can you talk about any special production flourishes here, or anything like that?

I was working with what I had. If I had had a drummer with me at the time, it would've been a  different record. But I didn't, so the drums came out the way they did.

I think the biggest addition and blessing with the record is Matt Patton. Him raising his hand and going to drive up to St. Louis — having never met me before — and spending a week in the studio. The parts he came up with are so rad; they make those songs. If it weren't for him, it would've been an entirely different record.

One thing I don't like to do when finishing a record, is listen to it comparatively to the record before it. Even sonically, I want to be surprised by it down the road.

Is making a record almost an uncomfortable experience, where you don't want to look at it too long? Is it like staring into the sun?

Yeah. That's ill-advised. I was actually thinking about that earlier. We were driving down and the sun was coming up and I was staring at it and I was like, Don't look into the sun you fucking idiot."

I think the uncomfortable part of the experience is the necessary part of the experience, and you have to push through the uncomfortable to get to the comfortable part — to know that you've got a good record.

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Updated Friday Oct. 13, 2023 to include info about Kendrick Lamar's most recent GRAMMY wins, as of the 2023 GRAMMYs.

A GRAMMY veteran these days, Kendrick Lamar has won 17 GRAMMYs and has received 47 GRAMMY nominations overall. A sizable chunk of his trophies came from the 58th annual GRAMMY Awards in 2016, when he walked away with five — including his first-ever win in the Best Rap Album category.

This installment of GRAMMY Rewind turns back the clock to 2016, revisiting Lamar's acceptance speech upon winning Best Rap Album for To Pimp A Butterfly. Though Lamar was alone on stage, he made it clear that he wouldn't be at the top of his game without the help of a broad support system. 

"First off, all glory to God, that's for sure," he said, kicking off a speech that went on to thank his parents, who he described as his "those who gave me the responsibility of knowing, of accepting the good with the bad."

Looking for more GRAMMYs news? The 2024 GRAMMY nominations are here!

He also extended his love and gratitude to his fiancée, Whitney Alford, and shouted out his Top Dawg Entertainment labelmates. Lamar specifically praised Top Dawg's CEO, Anthony Tiffith, for finding and developing raw talent that might not otherwise get the chance to pursue their musical dreams.

"We'd never forget that: Taking these kids out of the projects, out of Compton, and putting them right here on this stage, to be the best that they can be," Lamar — a Compton native himself — continued, leading into an impassioned conclusion spotlighting some of the cornerstone rap albums that came before To Pimp a Butterfly.

"Hip-hop. Ice Cube. This is for hip-hop," he said. "This is for Snoop Dogg, Doggystyle. This is for Illmatic, this is for Nas. We will live forever. Believe that."

To Pimp a Butterfly singles "Alright" and "These Walls" earned Lamar three more GRAMMYs that night, the former winning Best Rap Performance and Best Rap Song and the latter taking Best Rap/Sung Collaboration (the song features Bilal, Anna Wise and Thundercat). He also won Best Music Video for the remix of Taylor Swift's "Bad Blood." 

Lamar has since won Best Rap Album two more times, taking home the golden gramophone in 2018 for his blockbuster LP DAMN., and in 2023 for his bold fifth album, Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers.

Watch Lamar's full acceptance speech above, and check back at GRAMMY.com every Friday for more GRAMMY Rewind episodes. 

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It's rare that a genre can be traced back to a single artist or group, but for funk, that was James Brown. The Godfather of Soul coined the phrase and style of playing known as "on the one," where the first downbeat is emphasized, instead of the typical second and fourth beats in pop, soul and other styles. As David Cheal eloquently explains, playing on the one "left space for phrases and riffs, often syncopated around the beat, creating an intricate, interlocking grid which could go on and on." You know a funky bassline when you hear it; its fat chords beg your body to get up and groove.

Brown's 1965 classic, "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag," became one of the first funk hits, and has been endlessly sampled and covered over the years, along with his other groovy tracks. Of course, many other funk acts followed in the '60s, and the genre thrived in the '70s and '80s as the disco craze came and went, and the originators of hip-hop and house music created new music from funk and disco's strong, flexible bones built for dancing.

Legendary funk bassist Bootsy Collins learned the power of the one from playing in Brown's band, and brought it to George Clinton, who created P-funk, an expansive, Afrofuturistic, psychedelic exploration of funk with his various bands and projects, including Parliament-Funkadelic. Both Collins and Clinton remain active and funkin', and have offered their timeless grooves to collabs with younger artists, including Kali Uchis, Silk Sonic, and Omar Apollo; and Kendrick Lamar, Flying Lotus, and Thundercat, respectively.

In the 1980s, electro-funk was born when artists like Afrika Bambaataa, Man Parrish, and Egyptian Lover began making futuristic beats with the Roland TR-808 drum machine — often with robotic vocals distorted through a talk box. A key distinguishing factor of electro-funk is a de-emphasis on vocals, with more phrases than choruses and verses. The sound influenced contemporaneous hip-hop, funk and electronica, along with acts around the globe, while current acts like Chromeo, DJ Stingray, and even Egyptian Lover himself keep electro-funk alive and well.

Today, funk lives in many places, with its heavy bass and syncopated grooves finding way into many nooks and crannies of music. There's nu-disco and boogie funk, nodding back to disco bands with soaring vocals and dance floor-designed instrumentation. G-funk continues to influence Los Angeles hip-hop, with innovative artists like Dam-Funk and Channel Tres bringing the funk and G-funk, into electro territory. Funk and disco-centered '70s revival is definitely having a moment, with acts like Ghost Funk Orchestra and Parcels, while its sparkly sprinklings can be heard in pop from Dua Lipa, Doja Cat, and, in full "Soul Train" character, Silk Sonic. There are also acts making dreamy, atmospheric music with a solid dose of funk, such as Khruangbin’s global sonic collage.

There are many bands that play heavily with funk, creating lush grooves designed to get you moving. Read on for a taste of five current modern funk and nu-disco artists making band-led uptempo funk built for the dance floor. Be sure to press play on the Spotify playlist above, and check out GRAMMY.com's playlist on Apple Music, Amazon Music and Pandora.

Say She She

Aptly self-described as "discodelic soul," Brooklyn-based seven-piece Say She She make dreamy, operatic funk, led by singer-songwriters Nya Gazelle Brown, Piya Malik and Sabrina Mileo Cunningham. Their '70s girl group-inspired vocal harmonies echo, sooth and enchant as they cover poignant topics with feminist flair.

While they’ve been active in the New York scene for a few years, they’ve gained wider acclaim for the irresistible music they began releasing this year, including their debut album, Prism. Their 2022 debut single "Forget Me Not" is an ode to ground-breaking New York art collective Guerilla Girls, and "Norma" is their protest anthem in response to the news that Roe vs. Wade could be (and was) overturned. The band name is a nod to funk legend Nile Rodgers, from the "Le freak, c'est chi" exclamation in Chic's legendary tune "Le Freak."

Moniquea

Moniquea's unique voice oozes confidence, yet invites you in to dance with her to the super funky boogie rhythms. The Pasadena, California artist was raised on funk music; her mom was in a cover band that would play classics like Aretha Franklin’s "Get It Right" and Gladys Knight’s "Love Overboard." Moniquea released her first boogie funk track at 20 and, in 2011, met local producer XL Middelton — a bonafide purveyor of funk. She's been a star artist on his MoFunk Records ever since, and they've collabed on countless tracks, channeling West Coast energy with a heavy dose of G-funk, sunny lyrics and upbeat, roller disco-ready rhythms.

Her latest release is an upbeat nod to classic West Coast funk, produced by Middleton, and follows her February 2022 groovy, collab-filled album, On Repeat.

Shiro Schwarz

Shiro Schwarz is a Mexico City-based duo, consisting of Pammela Rojas and Rafael Marfil, who helped establish a modern funk scene in the richly creative Mexican metropolis. On "Electrify" — originally released in 2016 on Fat Beats Records and reissued in 2021 by MoFunk — Shiro Schwarz's vocals playfully contrast each other, floating over an insistent, upbeat bassline and an '80s throwback electro-funk rhythm with synth flourishes.

Their music manages to be both nostalgic and futuristic — and impossible to sit still to. 2021 single "Be Kind" is sweet, mellow and groovy, perfect chic lounge funk. Shiro Schwarz’s latest track, the joyfully nostalgic "Hey DJ," is a collab with funkstress Saucy Lady and U-Key.

L'Impératrice

L'Impératrice (the empress in French) are a six-piece Parisian group serving an infectiously joyful blend of French pop, nu-disco, funk and psychedelia. Flore Benguigui's vocals are light and dreamy, yet commanding of your attention, while lyrics have a feminist touch.

During their energetic live sets, L'Impératrice members Charles de Boisseguin and Hagni Gwon (keys), David Gaugué (bass), Achille Trocellier (guitar), and Tom Daveau (drums) deliver extended instrumental jam sessions to expand and connect their music. Gaugué emphasizes the thick funky bass, and Benguigui jumps around the stage while sounding like an angel. L’Impératrice’s latest album, 2021’s Tako Tsubo, is a sunny, playful French disco journey.

Franc Moody

Franc Moody's bio fittingly describes their music as "a soul funk and cosmic disco sound." The London outfit was birthed by friends Ned Franc and Jon Moody in the early 2010s, when they were living together and throwing parties in North London's warehouse scene. In 2017, the group grew to six members, including singer and multi-instrumentalist Amber-Simone.

Their music feels at home with other electro-pop bands like fellow Londoners Jungle and Aussie act Parcels. While much of it is upbeat and euphoric, Franc Moody also dips into the more chilled, dreamy realm, such as the vibey, sultry title track from their recently released Into the Ether.

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