The deteriorating impact of the Mercury Prize
When English Teacher stepped on the Mercury Prize stage in 2024, every music fan outside of London breathed a sigh of relief. It was a decade since the prestigious award was last given to any act outside of the nation’s capital, and it is a shocking reminder of the continued oversight of the UK’s remaining subcultures.
With the Brits and Grammys becoming increasingly commercial and disillusioned and the best of categories reading more like Elton John’s Oscar viewing party guestlist, awards shows have generally become a spectacle of celebrity rather than a celebration of music. So, in retaliation, the Mercury Prize has always felt like a bastion of authenticity and a safe space for genuinely important music to be heralded.
Generally speaking, it has remained as such, with English Teacher being another worthy winner – following on from Ezra Collective, Little Simz, and Michael Kiwanuka. But while I have no complaints over the winning picks, I can’t help but feel the wider nominations are symptomatic of music’s continued London centricity and a growing sense of commerciality.
With any award nomination, omissions have to be made, and this article doesn’t aim to act as a pointless and begrudged crusade for all of the acts I hold personally dear. But in 2023, Harry Styles’ Harry’s House earned a nomination ahead of the likes of H Hawkline’s Milk For Flowers or Willie J Healey’s Bunny – two albums that exude a similar but far more refined palette to the work of the heartthrob. It was that specific nomination that got me questioning the intentions of the ceremony. It’s not that I want to target Styles for simply being a mega-star because there were some stellar pop tracks on the record, but it also had some of the worst songs I’ve ever heard.
The Mercury Prize has always felt like a place immune to the slick marketing campaigns rolled out by otherwise mediocre albums. Instead, it cuts to the heart of music’s sentiment. Within that point, there should inherently come an exposure to music outside of the capital and artists whose success is derived solely from their musical output.
But as all art has been over recent years, the threat of commercial viability has loomed large over the award ceremony. As it becomes increasingly apparent, nothing is truly sacred, and the pressure for the Prize to generate some income has grown to the point where Harry Styles’ name, etched next to Ezra Collective on the trophy, might just garner some sponsorship.
In a pared-back 2024 ceremony that took place in Abbey Road Studios, English Teacher were an appropriate winner, for it was mere months before that Lily Fontaine told The Guardian: “The reality is that it’s normal for all of these achievements to coexist alongside being on Universal Credit, living at home or sofa surfing.”
This is a worrying indictment of the Mercury Prize’s cycle, where the acts touted for the award, whose livelihood is already troubled by the industry they artistically contribute to, are ultimately not commercially viable in the modern landscape.
“Despite efforts to match up with a suitable new partner, in what is clearly a tough arts funding environment, we weren’t able to secure one within the timeframe and the level of funding required,” BPI chief executive Jo Twist told Music Week as The Mercury Prize saw their partnership with Freenow come to an end. “With no sponsor, we unfortunately aren’t in a position to put on a live show this year to the high production values and standards we hold ourselves to.”
It leaves The Mercury Prize in a tricky position whereby the fading of their existence compromises their identity as the anti-dote to commercialism and the recognisers of authenticity. So media darlings like Styles get injected into the nominees’ list, maybe not to win, but to undoubtedly spike the exposure interest with immediate sharpness. But like the Starbucks booting your local cafe out of its spot, these shifty moves made to help commercialise the alternative further dampen the chances of its proper expression.
