I know you’re supposed to say, “It’s an honor just to be nominated.” And I did say that. At first.
But then I started being honest with myself: It would be pretty dang cool to win a Grammy.
I started wondering: How heavy are those little gilded gramophones? Would one fit in my shoulder bag so I could carry it on the plane? What would the TSA guy say when he spotted it on the scanner screen? And the toughest question: Where would I put it once I got back home to Nashville? Mantel? Too ostentatious. Office shelf? Too out of sight. Hmmm. I’d work that out when I got home.
So many questions, ones I shouldn’t even be letting myself ask. But that’s where the mind goes. Once you’ve been nominated, you can’t help it.
And I was nominated. Yep.
On Nov. 30, the National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences — a.k.a. NARAS, a.k.a the Grammy people — announced the nominees in 78 categories. Right there on the ballot: “Eric Brace and Peter Cooper.” Peter and I are the producers of “I Love: Tom T. Hall’s Songs of Fox Hollow,” one of five records nominated for best children’s album.
And so I find myself out in Los Angeles surrounded by other Grammy nominees eating breakfast at the hotel, everyone stunned by Whitney Houston’s death and wondering about the show. Still I’m telling myself not to get my hopes up . . . and yet. I’m getting my hopes up. I can’t help it. And I think about what an incredible place I’m in. How did I get here?
Nine years ago I left my job as the nightlife columnist at The Washington Post and moved with my band, Last Train Home, to Nashville, to make a go of it as a full-time musician. In 2005, I started a record label — Red Beet Records — with Mary Ann Werner, who would soon leave her job as a lawyer for The Post, move south and marry me.
Then a couple of years ago, my friend Peter Cooper and I were kicking around ideas of records we wanted to make. We had released two CDs as a duo (we cleverly call ourselves Eric Brace and Peter Cooper). We had also put out a couple of solo CDs of Peter’s, and several by Last Train Home. But we were wanting to do something different. Peter (whose wife was pregnant) said, “What about a kids record?”
That hadn’t been at the top of my idea list, but he made a strong case for a remake of a 1974 record by the great storytelling songwriter Tom T. Hall, “Songs of Fox Hollow.” I’m a big Tom T. Hall fan, and I’d been singing his songs onstage for years but was only vaguely aware of his “Fox Hollow” record. But Peter knew it well, having listened a lot when he was a tyke to Hall’s kids songs about life on the farm.
So we dived in. We invited such great artists (and fellow Tom T. Hall fans) as Patty Griffin, Bobby Bare, Buddy Miller and Duane Eddy to join us in the studio for a few days in June 2010. When we were done, we had “I Love: Tom T. Hall’s Songs of Fox Hollow.”
Red Beet released it in May 2011, and the CD started getting nice reviews and radio play. I started thinking maybe we could get a Grammy nomination. I became a member of NARAS and learned how to submit a CD for Grammy consideration. When I saw the preliminary ballot, there were 122 other children’s records listed along with ours. The chance of making it to the top five seemed pretty slim.
But I e-mailed other Grammy members I knew, and some I didn’t, asking them to “please consider giving us your vote.” I posted things on Facebook, Twitter and such, and crossed my fingers.
Then, at the end of November, the final ballot was announced. And there we were. One of the five finalists.
I believe I screamed “Holy cow!” as Mary Ann held out her iPad, showing me the voting results on the Grammy Web site.
We’d been telling ourselves we wouldn’t be on it, that we were proud of the record, that a Grammy nomination didn’t matter. It did matter.
Hundreds of congratulatory messages rolled in from folks I knew, and plenty I didn’t.
The Grammys, people! I’ve been watching them for nearly 40 years, first with wishful “Maybe someday that’ll be me” thoughts, then with jaded “The Grammys don’t mean a thing” thoughts, but still watching.
And now, 30 years into a life in music, when I’d put any thoughts of Grammy nights into a little box in a far corner of my mind, I got to go to the awards ceremony to see if I would hear my name called. I got to wear my new sparkly Manuel suit.
And, of course, I worried: Will I trip going up those little steps? Will I forget what I’m supposed to say? (Yes, I wrote a thank-you speech.) Can I give my mom a shout-out? Will I start wandering off stage the wrong way before the supermodel steers me right?
In the end, we didn’t win the children’s record Grammy. I watched other folks collect the statuette. I know they’ll find room for it in their carry-on. So what am I left with? I know we made a really great record. I got to take my mom to the Grammys. I played guitar with Duane Eddy. I have a new sparkly suit. I’ve become friends with Tom T. Hall. Bobby Bare said he liked my singing.
And I’m honored just to have been nominated.
Brace is a former Washington Post staff writer.
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