Songs from the Castle has been pre-nominated for the 50th Annual Grammy Awards. This first round of voting by NARAS members will determine the five finalists. If we manage to make that list, we'll have quite a party on this side of the Atlantic. ff you happen to be a voting member of the academy, Songs from the Castle is in Category 44, Best New Age Recording, entry number 44.

A word here about this New Age category. I wish there was a category called Nice Instrumental Music, because that's where my recording would go. It doesn't belong in the jazz category and it certainly doesn't belong in the classical or pop categories—although there are elements of those types of music throughout the recording. New Age has become a catch-all for music that doesn't "fit" elsewhere. So there I am, next to the Tibetan Goat Chanters and the Waves Crashing on Moonbeams stuff. There are also some lovely instrumental recordings listed. But what a diverse group! we are like musical nomads, wandering around trying to find a field that will welcome us.

As I recently wrote to my journalist friend Barbara Cloud, I don't much approve of contests for musicians. Seems to me that anyone who willingly takes the time and trouble to make music is already a winner, and if it were up to me, I'd be like one of those Special Olympics judges and give every one of us a trophy, a blue ribbon, or a certificate of achievement just for hanging in there, practicing, and finding a way to make a living doing something we love. On the other hand, winning a Grammy would expose my music to a much wider audience, and that would be splendid. I have a select but very loyal group of fans. Wouldn't it be great to build on that!

If you're curious about Songs from the Castle, here are the liner notes from the CD:

As a little girl, I often fantasized about visiting a real European castle. In my dreams, dressed as a fairy princess, I would step through an enormous wooden door, and amble down a majestic staircase into the waiting arms of the future. A chamber orchestra played a delicate melody as I began my long descent. The polished mahogany railing caressed my fingers, the candlelit chandeliers cast mysterious shadows on the silken walls, and the mingled scents of smoldering pine and winter air floated across the marble-floored ballroom. Joining the crowd of elegant guests, I heard violins, a harp, or the sad but hopeful line of a cello as it penetrated the chatter of the people surrounding me. Always, there were songs, made-up songs that have remained with me all these years, drifting in and out of my mind’s repertoire of favorite melodies.
 
Songs from the Castle pays tribute to the places I once dreamed about, and to Schloss Lerbach, the castle where I currently perform. In between those long-ago fantasies and the sometimes harsh reality of my everyday life as a musician and writer, I’ve built a few castles of my own. These invisible palaces exist in my cherished memories of family and friends, the home I’ve made with my husband and children, and the music I’ve continued to write as I approach my 50th birthday. My definition of beauty has changed—I’ve come a long way from fairy wings, glue-gunned sequined dresses, plastic tiaras, and the desire to wear an angel costume while strumming a zither. But in the four decades that I’ve been playing dress-up and making music, my desire to be surrounded by beauty has never altered course.
 
As a grown woman, I’m still attempting to capture and compose the ever-elusive sound track to my life. I listen to laughter, and I expect to hear the silvery trill of flutes. I experience sadness and wonder when the string section will kick in. I watch a child walking on a beach at sunset and wait for the swell of French horns to overtake me. Where’s the orchestra? I think. While I’ve come to the conclusion that silence is often the only appropriate accompaniment for many of life’s major and minor events, I’ve also noticed that the right music at the right time can make anyplace feel like a castle—the kind of place I once dreamed of when a handful of fairy dust and an open door were the only things that mattered.