SPILL FEATURE: ON JUNOS (AND OTHER SUCH ACCOLADES) – AN EDITORIAL BY ELIZABETH SHEPHERD

ON JUNOS (AND OTHER SUCH ACCOLADES)

AN EDITORIAL FEATURE BY ELIZABETH SHEPHERD

I like to pride myself on knowing what’s going on in our scene by always checking out new music – though now and again I’m reminded that while I may know a thing or two (being privy to a couple of mostly niche scenes), there are so many more musicians working away in private, honing their craft that I’m clueless to. I love discovering these magic weavers I’ve never heard of, and the JUNOS are always a great way to hip myself to them – same with the Polaris Prize. The day after nominees are announced makes for heaps of new listening, and I retreat into headphones to scratch the surface of the musical multiverse. We like to complain that these big institutions are flawed, in that they fail to acknowledge so much of what’s going on. But it’s a solid start, and really, isn’t it more of a testament to the expansive creativity happening here, that two mega organizations made up of so many industry players and musicians can’t even begin to capture it all?

This past week, my daughter has been agonizing over her upcoming interview to win a coveted spot in a fantastic programme at our local high school. Emotions have been running high, and I’ve had to talk her down from the ledge: “it’s a lottery, there’s no guarantee you’ll get in; regardless of where you end up, you’ll find the challenges you crave; regardless of this, you’ll grow and blossom; regardless of anything, you’ll always be loved.” It’s the kind of wise advice my mom would give me, the best I can muster as I see her hopes rise and feel my maternal heart expand in pride and protection. And I believe it: regardless of where she ends up, she’ll grow and blossom. She started down this mysterious path of becoming 12 years ago when she first graced this earth, and it’s only the beginning.

I thought about this the other day, as I was celebrating friends and colleagues who garnered JUNO nominations, then went about my usual binge-listening to a new music, thanks to the nods. I thought about everyone who didn’t get nominated (myself included) and felt a pang of loss, then reminded myself that in life, nothing is guaranteed – ever. It’s all a gift.

As musicians, we create because of a love. It drives us to cobble together a living, then weave it into a steady gig which fuels us to keep going. That alone is a small miracle. We may think we’re as good as our last album, last gig, last interview, last review – but remember when those things were taken away from us, how we didn’t disappear? We kept creating even though it seemed there was no reason for it – no ears to hear it, no witnesses. We saw our industry decimated, and wondered if it would ever come back, but we kept on. And so it follows that maybe what’s at the heart of this isn’t the accolades; it’s the very thing that lead us here in the first place – it’s the love.

To all the nominees: I’m so happy for you. It’s such an incredible boost, and we all need a win in this mad lottery of a career. To those who didn’t make the list, who continue to weave magic in private, remember that you’re not a nomination. You’re not even what you create. What you make is a gift to those who find it. Your audience may be small, but it’s mighty. To create is divine, is inspired, and is never really ours to hold. But you’re not your output. You are what goes into it, and that could never be awarded by an industry. It’s what those closest to you are lucky enough to see, that which comes through in the sounds you put out there to grace strangers’ ears. You’re part of something so much bigger than could ever be recognized by all the awards ceremonies on earth.

To all of us: there’s space enough for everyone. Even if your time isn’t now (or it may even seem that your time never comes), you’re still breathing, still creating; inspiration is still moving, and you’re still nourished enough by it to care. So go surround yourself with those who really know you, who may not even get what you create. They’re your people, and that is real love. At the end of the day, it’s all that matters. Then go write a song.

One of my favourite Cohen lines says: “here’s to the few who forgive what you do, and the fewer who don’t even care”. Or, to flip it: “here’s to the few who applaud what you do, and the fewer who don’t even care”.

(Elizabeth Shepherd is a Montreal-based multi JUNO/Polaris Prize nominated souljazz pianist / vocalist, music educator and award-winning author.)

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