Olivia Dean has landed a Mercury Prize nomination, which apparently means she has now achieved something more prestigious than starring in a $300 million tentpole franchise. Lily Allen did not make the cut. The internet has begun processing this information as though the cultural hierarchy has fundamentally shifted.
Here’s what actually happened: the Mercury Prize shortlist arrived, Dean’s name was on it, Allen’s wasn’t. The nominations include returning players and fresh blood. Critics are already writing think pieces about what this means. What it means is that one artist got nominated and one didn’t. The rest is just us deciding which achievement matters more.
But somewhere in the last fifteen years, something genuinely strange occurred. A Mercury Prize nomination—an award that exists primarily to be discussed by people who read music journalism—has become more culturally significant than superhero IP. Getting into the MCU used to be the ultimate validation. Now it’s a footnote. A Mercury nod is the thing that gets you taken seriously. It’s the thing that means you’re an artist, not a content generator with a three-picture deal.
Allen’s absence from this year’s list is being treated as a snub, which is hilarious because she’s been in more Marvel movies than most people have had record deals. But Marvel money and Marvel visibility apparently don’t count anymore. What counts is whether Pitchfork’s editorial board thinks you’re worth discussing in August.
The Mercury Prize remains exactly what it’s always been: an award that matters intensely to the people who care about awards, and to nobody else. The difference now is that everyone else has started caring too.