Part of Glasgow’s history: click the link below to read some fun facts that I discovered five years ago, whilst writing my book about old Scottish music publishers …
The Glasgow and West of Scotland Conservatoire (no Connection with RCS Today)
AI and the Spurious Promise of a Resurrection
This is not a blog for entering the debate about the dangers of AI becoming too powerful. Oh, no. I leave that debate to the experts.
Let me just share with you that I have a public Facebook page for my research into Scottish music publishers. It’s really there just to highlight small snippets and research discoveries, and to point curious readers towards this blog. This is the link:-
Scottish Music Publishers 1880-1950, with Karen McA
Well, today, I discovered I had a new ‘follower’. I’d like to know how anyone can possibly help to monetize the activities of a bunch of defunct Scottish music publishers. I have visions of Messrs Bayley, Ferguson, Kerr and Allan walking down Sauchiehall Street, enthusiastically discussing the new interest in their latest publications … amazed that anyone would be willing to help promote their work, which ceased more than half a century ago.
It’s okay – I’ve blocked the ‘follower’. I’m just annoyed that I had to waste time doing so!
All the Crazy People
Is there no end to it? Looking for a particular email that I’m expecting but haven’t received, I thought I’d better check my Junk mail. (It wasn’t there, so I’m still waiting.) But there was a firm wanting to charge me several thousand pounds to turn my RMA Research Chronicle article into a professionally-made podcast. (Really? I’m a semi-retired musicologist research fellow – I have time to do this myself, and I’m not paying a scientific organisation to do it for me.) And then – in the same folder – I find another firm offering to turn my PhD thesis into a book. Yes, right. I did that, with Ashgate, over a decade ago.
The world has gone mad. Can we turn it off and on again?
Image by Felix Martinez from Pixabay
Rose Played On (an Admirable Edwardian Musician)
Why do I persist in researching Rose Smith? I suspect my interest is partly because I see myself in her.
Smith attended, and briefly taught at the Athenaeum. Throughout her life, she played, accompanied, composed and taught. I half-wondered if she gave up playing the organ when the family came along, but no! There she was in 1900, and in 1911, still playing.Â
Did she leave the baby at home with the maid? There wouldn’t have been a creche! And what about when there were three small children? (They were born ca. 1899, 1903 and 1907.) That’s something I probably don’t need to know.
But when you consider that my own mother told me I’d have to stop playing when the baby arrived (that was in 1993 – and I didn’t stop! Don’t tell me what I can’t do), then for Rose Smith to keep playing in 1899 seems quite unconventional. Or maybe not – I haven’t researched any other Edwardian organists who were mothers.
I’ve temporarily lost track of her organ playing after 1911. And did they move to a closer Episcopal church when they moved house? (I know where to look, but access isn’t easy. Give me time!)
But I do know she was still listed as a piano teacher at the age of 67.
I’ll just keep digging away. I find out a little bit more every time I start looking. Why, only this afternoon I discovered her younger son was a music salesman for Paterson’s in Glasgow, and must have known J. Michael Diack. Another little link with what I already know of Glasgow’s music scene …
Image shows the tenement near Glasgow Green, where Smith grew up.
A Wee Hornpipe on the Organ (Don’t Tell Me Not to Do Something!)
‘You can’t play THAT!’ I was told, as I headed out to practise. And although I can’t repeat the precise wording, the gist of the objection was that it was daft and inappropriate.
Well, my supportive congregation didn’t seem to think so, today. I played all the tunes from Wood’s original Fantasia on British Sea-Songs, along with some of those inserted into the Last Night of the Proms rendition last night, and ended with ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. The coffee ladies wanted me to know that they didn’t just like it – they loved it.
I did add the Irish ‘The Minstrel Boy’ after ‘Danny Boy’ (The Londonderry Air). But I haven’t yet had time to source the music for the Welsh tune – though I do know what it is.
If you can hear clattering in the background – that’s the sound of the keys and pedals and the tracker action linkage that eventually sends the sound to the pipes. I think it rather adds to the charm of the piece, to be honest!
Chasing the Wrong Man
I came to Edinburgh to see a poetry collection. I’ve seen the book before, but this was a copy presented by the ‘poetess’ [poet] to a friend, whom I’d discovered was a Glasgow publisher. And the catalogue mentioned additional papers associated with the book. Now, wouldn’t that intrigue any scholar?
Wild Goose-Chase
But yesterday, I learned that there weren’t as many papers as the catalogue hinted. They’ve somehow gone missing. Disappointed, I came anyway, to see what remained. Which turned out to be, not a lot. However, what little there was, was informative – in a negative kind of way.
Jump Not To Conclusions!
At the end of the day, there’s a moral to this story! It doesn’t really matter much about the missing papers, because the friend was NOT the Glasgow publisher (about whom I’d learned a lot, on the train to Edinburgh) …. Even when a name looks distinctive and appropriate, it is wise to maintain a healthy element of scepticism.
No, this was another gent with the same name. A highly-esteemed Wishaw bone-setter. Yes, you read that right.
I’ll never know whether the poet consulted him about a child’s injury, or her own ‘rheumatics’. But I can be fairly sure it wasn’t for advice about publishing poetry!
I reread a few poems, had a coffee, and came home again.
How an Organist Writes a Fancy ‘Last Verse’ Arrangement for a Hymn Tune
This is my second podcast. In my previous podcast, I discussed a musicological topic – the career of the Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music’s second Principal (Edward E Harper), and his longer career as an organist. Today, I’ll continue the church organ theme, but this time I’m thinking about my own practice – specifically, about how I write a last verse arrangement for a church hymn. Hopefully it’ll be helpful to anyone who didn’t have the benefit of harmony classes at uni! I introduce chromatic harmonies, passing notes, suspensions and minor sevenths.
Listen to Podcast No.2:-
I’m sharing my harmonic analysis (more like an overview!) and audio examples separately from the podcast.
So, here is the harmonic analysis of Charles Steggall’s hymn, ‘Christchurch’:-
And if you’d like to hear how I did my final arrangement, compared eight bars at a time with Steggall’s original, then you can hear it here:-
Organist Reveals All
Just a brief note. I had criticism of my last blog posting’s title, which apparently didn’t make sense. Well, it did to me, but feedback is always useful. I’ve tried to make today’s title clear and unambiguous.
However, I might observe that – much to my line manager’s amusement – the piece of my writing which has attracted the most interest was the double-entendre in my article about paratexts, back in 2015. In marketing terms, ‘sexy’ means something is appealing to readers, and paratexts do ‘reveal’ more about a publication than you might think:-
‘Sexy Bibliography (and Revealing Paratext)’, Library Review Vol.64, Iss.1/2, (2015), 154-161, http://www.emeraldinsight.com/doi/abs/10.1108/LR-09-2014-0104
(Now, that is an obscure and incomprehensible – but intriguing – title!)
Off-the-Shoulder Gown?
So, if I wanted to make today’s podcast have more crowd-appeal, and (crucially) attract more hits, then I really should have come up with a more intriguing title. And I have! How about, ‘Organist Reveals All’? I’ll wear my gown off-the-shoulder on Sunday!
One Organist to Another: “Have you got a ‘Last Verse’ for Groeswen?”
It sounds like a coded message between members of a secret fraternity, doesn’t it? Nothing so scandalous, I’m afraid! Although, I’m told it doesn’t make sense. So, let me explain.
But first, I must clarify: the image above is Neilston Parish Church, where I’m organist. I can’t find a Creative Commons image of Groeswen Chapel, but you can see it at this link:-
(Sensible Alternative Title: Writing a Fancy Harmony for the Last Verse of a Hymn)
Groeswen is a magnificent Welsh hymn tune composed by John Ambrose Lloyd (1815-1874), often used for the hymn, ‘All my hope on God is founded’. It was one of the hymns chosen by the minister for today’s church service. Now then, organists like to play a more elaborate arrangement for the last verse of a conventional hymn, and there are books published that consist solely of such ‘last verse’ settings.
The Organist’s Playtime
However, my own two ‘last verse’ books don’t contain a last verse setting for Groeswen. I couldn’t do much about it on the spot, but I decided I’d have to write one later on today so that I’d have a setting for another time. I have added some minor inflections, along with chromaticism and some chordal suspensions. It is within the capabilities of a competent organist – no need to be a virtuoso.
And now I’m sorry that we’ve already sung it, so I’ll have to wait until we next use the hymn before I can play it! (It’s just a midi-file from Finale, I’m afraid – you’re not listening to a real organist playing it on a real pipe organ!) I’m putting my ‘last verse’ on ArrangeMe, in case anyone else would like to use it.
Risk-Taking, My Way
Today was the final day of the Women and Musical Histories conference at the Royal Academy of Music. It has been both enjoyable, and highly informative, and there was enough live music to make it feel like a real treat. Presentations and performances alike were of a very high quality.
My presentation was in the final session, so I had two days of debating with myself as to whether I’d play that musical example.
PROS
- It would quite possibly be the first performance since the 1940s, if not before.
- No-one will have heard Rose’s music before
- It’s lovely
- It has THE most wonderful, powerful ending.
CONS
- I once played a simple example (on home ground), made a tiny slip, and someone sniggered.
- I’m a scholar, not ‘a performer’.
- Dare I reveal my shortcomings within the hallowed walls of another conservatoire?
I had brought a scanned copy of Rose Smith’s last verse, as a precaution against losing it in transit. Since I may have the only privately-owned copy, I couldn’t risk bringing it with me. This turned out to have been a wise precaution, because a torrential downpour rendered my scanned copy very soggy round the edges! Nonetheless, it dried out enough that I couldn’t use the sogginess as an excuse.
I heard someone warming up for a lecture recital, and almost took fright. Who did I think I was?!!
‘Tell the audience you were a librarian’, a friend advised me. Well, that was a better idea than confessing that I didn’t rate myself very highly. I know better than to put an audience off by sowing seeds of doubt in their minds!
Finally, I convinced myself. A bit like when I was deciding whether to have another go at a PhD, back in 2003, I asked myself the question that usually helps me make up my mind.
Will I regret it if I don’t do this?
I took a deep breath. ‘I used to be a librarian, not a performer’, I stated. ‘But I’m going to play you an example of Rose’s music.’
It was an absolutely fabulous piano! Quite exhilarating.
Getting to Know Mrs Smith, the ‘Lanarkshire Poetess’.
Back I went to the library. I needed another look at Mrs M. A. Smith’s books, and most particularly, the Addendum containing the poem she wrote to her late husband, after she had checked the final proofs. It had just that poem, then another to a soldier who had met an untimely end. (As you might guess, I now have some newspaper-checking to do, since she wrote such a lot of memorial poetry.)
Smith recalled her husband’s blue eyes and military bearing. She was sad that he wouldn’t see the book, and said she’d miss his words of encouragement. She wrote about how she was handling her loss with her grieving children. I read that poem, over and over.
Seek and Ye shall Find
Smith’s writing is by no means all autobiographical, but some pieces are. I learnt more about her own childhood, and about her maternal sadnesses. I was reminded of wee details that I’d noted before, but hadn’t needed to draw upon on in my own work so far.
I learnt that she loved the sound of the church organ. (She’d have been pleased that two daughters later played the organ as adults!)
Jerusalem (words by William Blake, music by Hubert Parry)
And at one point, I just smiled, because she mentioned the hymn, ‘Jerusalem’. Now, you would have to have attended church in Scotland to understand that this immediately marks her as English, because Scots can’t abide singing about ‘England’s green and pleasant land’. As an English organist living in Scotland, I never get the opportunity to play that stirring tune, because the associations just aren’t favourable up here! I wonder if congregations were more, or less laid back about it back in the 1870s?
Graveyard image from Pixabay.
Respectful Academic Writing.
I wrote my conference paper a couple of weeks ago. Timed it, trimmed the word-count, timed it again. (Repeat that a few times!) And then today, something occurred to me. Not all at once, no. In stages, let’s say. To start with, it was just a question of technology: wouldn’t it be better, I mused, if I used the tablet rather than a wad of paper? On went the tablet. And (not that I noticed at first) off again. I eventually realised that it needed charging – it’s ages since I last used it. Whilst I waited for it to become functional again, I looked at my paper one last time, thinking I’d just make sure it was absolutely perfect before I looked at it on a different gadget.
And that’s when I spotted it – I could call it a major faux pas, or I could blame it on my generation. Well, that’s a cheap excuse, isn’t it? Not acceptable. If I want to be accepted as a scholar who is still on the ball, still at the top of her game, then I can’t lamely whimper that I didn’t realise what I was doing was disrespectful …
Equality
It’s a relatively recent academic writing protocol, and one that was long overdue: men and women should be written about with equal respect. By that, I mean that if you wouldn’t refer to Elgar as Edward, then you can’t justify calling Mary Wollstonecraft, just Mary. Elgar is Elgar, and Wollstonecraft is Wollstonecraft. Otherwise, it’s not only disrespectful, but diminishes the woman’s standing.
Mary-Anne Smith, Rose B. Smith, Jane Sillars, Flora Woodman …
Now, in my paper, I’m not talking about big names like Elgar or Wollstonecraft. But I realised that I’d fallen into the trap. Mary-Anne, Rose, Jane and Flora deserved better. They needed their last names. So I got stuck in.
It’s just a bit more complex than you’d think, especially when you are not only writing about the women, but are also mentioning their menfolk. You can’t refer to three different Smiths as plain, ‘Smith’. But ‘Mr, Mrs and Miss Smith’ doesn’t work, especially when Miss Smith kept her ‘Smith’ professionally after marriage.
Then there’s the unmarried mother who identified as ‘a widow’ in at least one official document – but married some years later. At which point her daughter’s name changed. (Had she actually got married another time before the marriage I know about, wouldn’t her daughter’s name have changed then, too? But it didn’t, so I’m taking it that ‘widow’ was being used diplomatically. We’re talking of the Edwardian era.) In any case, her marital status is of absolutely no concern to me, but I am concerned that she and her daughter are called the right names at the right time!
Need I continue?
And, grammatically, if two individuals with the same last name get mentioned in the same sentence, then either you need to use first names as well, or rephrase for clarity. ‘Her daughter’ and ‘her mother’ are very useful substitutes!
Sometimes it’s just a question of being pragmatic. I haven’t, indeed I couldn’t excise all stand-alone first names. But I think I’ve improved it. I’ve shown due respect to all the individuals I’ve written about – most of them women.
I do believe I’ve finished my revisions!
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 