Alright, let's get it out of the way.

Awards for art are inherently stupid. Trying to pick the "best" album from across a range of genres is impossible. Music is all in the ear of the beholder. Critics are just as prone to turning awards into popularity contests as the industry types we lampoon every year for their Juno choices - and they're even more out of touch with the record-buying public. And so on.

All fair points. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've made them all myself. But hey, we're in the business of being subjective. A good top-10 list is a good top-10 list. And what was released yesterday is a damn good top-10 list.

As its organizers have told us ad nauseum in its inaugural year, the Polaris Music Prize is modelled after England's prestigious Mercury Prize for the year's top album - an alternative to the more commercial Brit Awards, just as Polaris will be an alternative to the much-maligned Junos. Frankly, they may be selling it a bit short. Instead of being billed as a poor man's Mercury, Polaris should be seen as a coming-out party for a Canadian indie scene that has deservedly crept into the mainstream.

I'll admit to having expected the same pack mentality that dominates other awards to afflict critics responsible for the Polaris short list, which was released yesterday. And to some extent, it did: With hundreds upon hundreds of albums to choose from, you just knew that four critical favourites - Broken Social Scene, the New Pornographers, Final Fantasy and Wolf Parade - were guaranteed spots. But it thankfully didn't turn into what it could have been: A collective effort to prove refined tastes by singling out acts that nobody in the real world would listen to, solely for their unparalleled indie-ness (Destroyer, anyone?). Instead, look at how the rest of the list is filled out, and you see an accurate reflection of a burgeoning scene that doesn't get enough credit for its diversity.

You've got a gritty Toronto bar band whose brand of garage rock fuses gospel, soul and blues (the Deadly Snakes) and a Somali immigrant who sounds vaguely like Eminem rapping about growing up in Mogadishu (K'Naan). The rare Quebec band that tries to make it in English Canada singing in French (Malajube), and undoubtedly the first Edmontonian ever to create an international hip-hop stir (Cadence Weapon). A reliable folk stalwart (Sarah Harmer) and arguably the only band on the continent to maintain its artistic integrity while still making indie rock sexy and glamorous (Metric).

A case can be made that other artists deserved a nod; my own first choice, Toronto's Fembots, are nowhere to be found (I'd complain more if the Deadly Snakes, K'Naan and Metric hadn't been 2-3-4 on my ballot). Part of the fun, as with any list, will be griping about who's not there. But whether credit goes to the organizers for setting up an open and squeaky-clean process, the voters or (as it most likely should) to the deep pool of talent from which we were choosing, almost every single artist stacks up well next to last year's Mercury Prize winner, Antony and the Johnsons, or this year's prohibitive favourite, the Arctic Monkeys - let alone some of the other acts usually found on that award's short list.

There is, however, one thing voters could do to screw this thing up. They could choose Broken Social Scene.

Give the Toronto collective its due - it's a superior live act that helped put Canadian indie on the international scene. And there's a contingent that will make a thoughtful case for Broken's self-titled sophomore disc, and more power to 'em.

But there are many others who feel compelled to like it, as though declaring it overproduced and underwhelming - which many will admit to privately - will call into question their ability to appreciate good indie music.

That's the sort of group-think that typically plagues music awards, turning them into popularity contests. The Canadian music scene deserves better. And considering all the other acts on this list, it might just get it.