Eclectic Company: Grammy Nominations and Music for the Days of Awe

About 25 years ago, I wrote liner notes for six records so I could join the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences and vote on who gets the Grammys. There are lots of awards in the music industry — local awards from radio stations and newspapers, regional recognitions like the Boston Music Awards or the New York Music Awards, and genre kudos like the W.C. Handy Blues Awards or the Americana Music Awards. But you probably aren't aware of most of those unless you're a working musician, music producer or music critic. The Grammys, on the other hand, are the ones which everybody knows about whether they're in the industry or not, so it's the gold standard, and everyone wants to win one. It's the proof that you've arrived, that the wider world has taken notice of your work, and it's a sign that the insiders in the industry — your fellow professionals — are proud of you.

Which is why Sean Ardoin wants to win one for his recently released awesome Christian Zydeco record, "How Great Is Your Love." And now that the Grammys have added a special Cajun and Zydeco category (so records in those genres aren't in competition with singer/songwriters and klezmer and afropop and a grab bag of folk and world musics), after many years of lobbying the Academy, an effort that was led by Lafayette's own creole ambassador Terrance Simien (who won the first award in 2007) and his wife Cynthia, Sean's got a shot at it. If, that is, he gets past the initial nomination stage, where your record company puts you in the running, and ends up among the final five in the final round. That takes some lobbying too. So Sean called me the other day to ask me to beat the bushes among our Grammy voting friends, and get them to cast votes for him.

I certainly will — I'm a big fan of Sean Ardoin's music, as I've said before in this same space (see Listening to ... Sean Ardoin). But it will be harder to get others to do it, no matter how much they like him. First of all, there are big music companies out there whose employees vote in a bloc for their own label's acts. In the 1980s, I heard from a source at one of the majors that Grammy voting in lockstep with your boss was a job requirement, and senior management took ballots away to fill them in for their employees. Second, there are nearly 30 genres of music to vote on and no one gets to vote in all the genres. Apart from four big rock and pop awards, everyone who votes has to choose eight categories, which is hard to do if you have catholic tastes like I have. Most people are happy to vote in rock and pop and have done with it. But as for me, well some years I vote for folk, blues, gospel, country, jazz, liner notes (I was once an early-round nominee for my notes on a Richard Thompson boxed set and I like to return the favor), traditional pop and alternative rock. Some years I change it up and vote instead for new releases in world music, polka, children's music, comedy, classical, soundtracks, or album production, depending on who I know who's in the running. That means you have a better chance of seeing your choice win in a small, alternative category like polka, if an extra hundred people cast their ballots for them too. And finally, even in a small category, you might find it hard to choose among the final five, who might all be worthy, and as popular with you as your best friends are.

I'll post my Grammy picks around the time of the awards show, after the votes are all locked in, as I've done before, on this website (see Votes). I do that so readers of my writing can see what my prejudices are, so you can tell when I'm speaking your language, or, as you may believe, speaking through my hat. And in the meantime, if you're a professional in the music industry, I urge you to join NARAS, and vote in the genres not only in which you make your living, but in the genres where your musical heart lives. More info about membership is on the web at www.grammy.com.

I've also told you that I'm a sucker for different kinds of religious music. Well last week began an annual religious music feast — the most important period in the Jewish year. It's the time of the Jewish High Holy Days, 10 days known as the Days of Awe, between Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. During these long days of reflection, repentance, and judgment, we have the opportunity to apologize to those we've wronged over the past year, to make our annual confession of sins as a community and to symbolically cast them as bread into the water, to beg God's forgiveness, and to wish each other that our names will be re-inscribed in the book of life for 365 days more.

It is a probably a trick of the ear, maybe caused by the solemnity of the season, but to me, the Jewish liturgy for the High Holy Days is sung to the most beautiful and emotionally-charged music of the entire religious calendar. Cantors — the official solo singers of synagogues around the world — audition for full-time jobs by taking temp work at High Holy Day services, and are graded in large part on their voices and artistic presence. Some Cantors make international reputations as recitalists by recording important songs taken from the year's worship cycle. My dad, a traditional jazz trumpet player, loved the Cantorial singing of Jan Peerce, and we listened to his records at home the way in later years I listened to the Beatles.

This year, for the first time in my life, I will be part of the public singing of that religious music, when I assist Rabbi Charles Isbell in the evening and morning services on Yom Kippur. Orthodox Judaism, in which I was raised, prohibits the singing of women in the company of men, and so until I came to Lake Charles, and joined Temple Sinai, a synagogue that follows the practices of Reform Judaism, I had never heard a woman's voice singing solo on the Sabbath or holidays, never participated in services from the pulpit in front of the holy Ark of the Covenant, never raised my voice in song unless I was seated in the women's section of the Orthodox synagogues I attended, never chanted aloud from the holy books except when my voice was camouflaged among the voices of the entire congregation.

I am excited, and humbled, by the opportunity, and I'm practicing like crazy so I can be sure to do my best. If I've offended anyone this year, or hurt you by omission or by anything I've done, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. And to all of you, have a sweet New Year, and may you be inscribed in the book of life.