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If a growing international community of Canadian critics, Japanese hipsters and British soul-jazz aficionados had their say, Elizabeth Shepherd would walk away from next month's Juno Awards cradling armfuls of trophies, just like Norah Jones at the Grammys a few years back.

A major name in the subgenre of jazz singer-songwriting, Shepherd has played a string of sold-out shows in Tokyo and draws large crowds in London. She's a favourite of influential British DJ Gilles Peterson, which gives her street cred among an in-the-know crowd. Yet there she was yesterday, at the announcement of this year's Juno nominees in Toronto, among the contenders for the unassuming category of vocal jazz album of the year.

Comedian Russell Peters, Juno host:

She's an example of how behind the headline that Nickelback receives five Juno nominations, there are numerous stories of Canadian musicians winning new audiences and leading their subset of music into new directions.

Take, for instance, Chris Donnelly, up for traditional jazz album of the year, whose solo piano playing crosses a subtle musical bridge between Bill Evans and Glenn Gould.

"If you listen to the album, you'll hear a lot of different influences: jazz, classical, minimalist, there are lots of different things in there. I don't sit there and say I'm going to make a jazz album or a classical album, or that I'm going to blend the two. I'm just going to do what I do," Donnelly said.

Like Shepherd's nod, Donnelly's nomination should win the Toronto pianist more acclaim outside the jazz community - as long as not all the Juno attention goes to unabashedly commercial acts such as Nickelback.

There are certainly signs this year that the Junos, which have often felt industry-driven, are catching up to what is truly happening in Canada. It's a trickle-down effect perhaps: This year, only seven of the 39 categories take sales figures into account. This may have helped to create a more egalitarian feel to the nominees' list, while also drawing attention to the diversity of names throughout the categories.

An example of this can be found in new artist of the year. The nominees include country artist Crystal Shawanda, pop singer Kreesha Turner and jazz singer Nikki Yanofsky, who also have multiple nominations in other categories.

"It really shows the depth of talent we have in the multiple genres," said Melanie Berry, president of the Canadian Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, which administers the Junos, airing March 29 on CTV. "Yes, there are specific artists that would skew older. But then there are artists that would skew younger. So I think there's a good balance."

Group of the year is another category that is typically dominated by obvious commercial names, but which this year included an exception - with the indie band Tokyo Police Club vying against Nickelback and other perennial Juno favourites Great Big Sea, the Trews, as well as Simple Plan.

Single of the year is a similar story. Rapper Kardinal Offishall's Dangerous and R&B singer Divine Brown's Laying It On The Line are competing against such heavyweight commercial contenders as Celine Dion's Taking Chances, Michael Bublé's Lost and Nickelback's Gotta Be Somebody. Not only does this list cross genres and demographics (and some might say common sense, with Kardinal Offishall, Dion and Nickelback vying for the same prize), it nevertheless indicates the growing diversity that seems to be taking hold at the Junos.

But a certain irony also emerges. Just as the Junos draw much-deserved attention to artists such as Shepherd and Donnelly, they also highlight a quandary faced by many acts.

"[It's] this weird industry thing where you have to make yourself scarce," Shepherd said. Her growing accolades are bringing her more international recognition. Yet like many accomplished Canadian musicians, she hasn't yet achieved greater recognition from a wider audience at home.

It's a Catch-22: Perform too much and you don't live up to your billing - people will go see you at a local bar gig and won't go to your big show. But gig too little and you don't get the necessary exposure.

"If you make yourself scarce, people want more of you. It's something I feel very strange about," Shepherd said of this unusual logic the industry prescribes.