Hall of Famer and Burden Brothers frontman Vaden Todd Lewis performing at last weekend's 'Fort Worth Weekly' Music Awards.

And counted and counted and counted.

It took about five whole days, 371 cups of coffee, and 119 ink pens, but we Fort Worth Weekly staffers finally tallied all of your votes -- all 3,000-plus -- and arrived at the winners of our paper's sixth or seventh annual Music Awards. Like in years past, there really weren't that many surprises. Flickerstick, as usual, took home every award they were nominated for, including best rock band, while frontman Brandin Lea won best male vocalist honors, and the band's e.p., To Madagascar and Back, was voted album of the year and ÒOpen Up Your Eyes,Ó song of the year. Other winners were similarly easy to predict (though no less deserving). Bertha Coolidge, once again, won best jazz, while Johnny Mack walked away with the best blues trophy. In the folk/acoustic category, Scott Copeland came out on top; in ÒAvant Garde/Experimental,Ó it was Sub Oslo; in ÒCountry,Ó Collin Herring; in ÒFemale Vocalist,Ó Tiffany Shea; and in ÒProducer,Ó Todd and Toby Pipes.

What all this means is that next year we here are gonna have to mix things up a bit, even if that means inducting nine or 10 performers into our newly created Fort Worth Music Hall of Fame. In case you've been asleep the past two months, the Fort Worth Music Hall of Fame is a building-less institution that the Weekly created for two primary reasons: 1) To honor Fort Worth music legends in our midst who you would probably pass on the street or in the grocery store and not be the wiser, like this year's inaugural class of Johnny Case, Mac Curtis, Ronald Shannon Jackson, and Vaden Todd Lewis (The Toadies, The Burden Brothers); and 2) to retire these performers from the ballot to keep everything fresh and flowery-smelling. Like you, the boys in some of these bands are probably sick of winning Music Awards year after year. Take Flickerstick: I've been to Brandin Lea's mansion. He uses his trophies as doorstops. We doubt he'd cry over a Flickerstick-less ballot next year -- especially while receiving Hall of Fame honors. He's classy like that.

A few acts won on their first ballot appearances, but none were really dark horses -- reggae-fied masters Darth Vato (best live band), Leroy the Prophet (hard rock), Nathan Brown's R&B (R&B/hip-hop), Engine of the Ocean (new artist), and Velvet Love Box (cover band).

There was one honest-to-goodness surprise, though, and it was a good 'un. After what's probably felt like 20 years and 1,000 nominations, Carey Wolff of Woodeye finally won something. And what a something. Songwriter of the year. Congrats, Carey.

Of course, some bands that didn't come out on top would have easily won other categories by sheer brute vote-generating force alone; like Spoonfed Tribe, who came about this close to toppling Flickerstick from the Fort Worth music mountain peak, and gangsta rapper Mr. Aggravated Foe, who -- unlike his competition in the categories of R&B/hip-hop, album of the year, and artist of the year -- is largely unrecognizable to the local music cognoscenti but apparently more than capable of getting the vote out. Tips of the hat also go to these major vote-getters -- jazzers Dave and Daver, the golden-throated Lauren Fine, singer-songwriter Tim Locke, and alt-rock rooster John Price.

The winners received word of their victories and ceremonial tambourines (this year's trophy, stamped with the Music Awards logo) last weekend during our Grammy-style Music Awards throw-down in Gernsbacher's parking lot, off West Seventh Street. In between performances by James Hinkle, Bertha Coolidge, Collin Herring, Spoonfed Tribe, Flickerstick, and The Burden Brothers, Brett from The Edge and I doled out the hardware (or jangleware, in this case). Everything went pretty smoothly. No arrests, no fights, the police refrained from attacking the members of Spoonfed Tribe, and our charity sponsor -- the Tarrant Area Food Bank -- walked away with beaucoup bucks and loads of canned food. And, miraculously, the rain held off until the very end.

This isn't to say there weren't any hitches. One really egregious annoyance was watching local barflies share VIP tent passes, all for the sake of free beer. (It's a frickin' charity event, people. Next year, if you're not one of the seven people in my cell phone book or are not performing sexual favors for one of those seven, don't expect a pass from me.) Another was trying to deal with everyone in this town who thinks they're rock royalty -- and that's just about everyone. Contrary to what a lot of you might think, your name isn't as easily recognizable as, say, Brad Pitt's or George Clooney's. All we ask for is a little patience and courtesy.

One last small but prickly annoyance was the way the crowd responded to some of the music -- by not really responding at all. Even as The Burden Brothers blasted away their brand of alt-rock riotousness, the crowd still seemed kinda ... mopey. My guess is that most of the 1,300 folks in attendance were musicians and thus were happy as hogs just contemplating the musicianship and virtuosity on display instead of actually enjoying the music (a.k.a. having a good time). Or maybe it could have been that these folks didn't have access to the free beer.

Now what would a charity event wrap-up be without a spoonful of Thankyouplenty? Big shout-outs to the following for making all of this possible: Melissa Kirkendall of 3 Day Pass/Daughter Entertainment and the entire Weekly staff, including publisher Lee Newquist, advertising director Michael Newquist, retail coordinator Stephanie Fanning, editor Gayle Reaves, general manager and event sergeant Bob Niehoff, production wiz Jason Galloway and artist Richard Clark, proofreader Margaret Allyson, music critics Brian Abrams, Jimmy Fowler, Ken Shimamoto, and Marjorie Owens, and -- last but not least -- the ballot-counters who assisted Reaves, Fanning, and me in the counting process: Casey Jones, Pablo Lastra, Sarah Steele, Joyce Tsai, and Annaliese Yarbrough.

And thanks to all of you who voted, partied, and/or performed. You make local music wonderful.

I think I just became Texan enough to say, ÒAw, shucks.Ó