So Herbie Hancock wins a Grammy and you’d think he stole a match girl’s rag doll.

What, poor little Amy Winehouse or Kanye West didn’t get another trophy for their shelves? I’m sure they’ll survive.

According to the uproarers, Sunday’s Grammy show was hip and cool and cutting edge and whatever other terms convey “didn’t suck,” right up until those kids — who worked so hard all year — were denied in the Album of the Year category.

Oh my. Such misfortune. Thank heavens our fainting couch was nearby.

Somehow, the thinking goes, Hancock’s win made it the same old out-of-touch Grammys.

It didn’t. The whole show was the same old out-of-touch Grammys, which is just as it should be.

Sure, there were some good performances — Hancock and Lang Lang playing “Rhapsody in Blue” was stunning and it’s always good to see The Time.

But this is the Grammys, for Pete’s sake, an awards ceremony which spent the first half of its life either ignoring rock and R&B completely or getting it so wrong as to provide some truly laughable moments. (Personal fave: A Taste of Honey beating out Elvis Costello for Best New Artist in 1979.)

Somehow the presence of West, Winehouse and Foo Fighters was supposed to signal a new, knowing Grammy Awards.

Please. The Grammy Awards — the trophy-slinging arm of the wheezy old record industry — understands sales figures and little else. Veterans such as Hancock get nominated because they have recognizable names. Remember Steely Dan winning in 2001 for the so-so “Two Against Nature” album?

Hancock may have been the hippest choice — “River” most certainly sold fewer copies than any other Best Album nominee. It’s a very good album and if the win sells a few more copies of it — and maybe exposes some novices to Hancock’s rich and varied catalog — so much the better.

But a hip Grammy Awards? Not gonna happen.