Dr Karen McAulay explores the history of Scottish music collecting, publishing and national identity from the 18th to 20th centuries. Research Fellow at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, author of two Routledge monographs.
I’m currently reading a new book in the Routledge Insider Guides to Success in Academia series:
Be Visible or Vanish: Engage, Influence and Ensure your Research has Impact (Routledge, 2023)
The authors are Inger Mewburn and Simon Clews; since I’ve followed Inger’s work for a number of years, I knew it would be good, and I got it for RCS Library recently.
It’s an approachable guide, and the kind of book you can tuck into a bag or pocket to read at free moments during the day. This morning as I drank my pre-work latte, I was reading the chapter on making academic small-talk, and being ready with an answer to the inevitable question:-
So, what is your research about?
(A reasonable question in any situation!)
It particularly resonated for me this morning, because I take up my honorary Ketelbey Fellowship at St Andrews tomorrow. Not only that, but a family member had been asking me the same question last night! What are you studying there? Why there? How are you going to benefit from the experience? It wasn’t intended as preparation for the sort of questions I should be anticipating, but I nonetheless took it as a prompt to think carefully about how I shall be introducing myself when I meet new colleagues!
I’ve also heard this described as an ‘elevator pitch’ – though in my case, I would need the elevator to travel more than one floor! As I’ve said before, the title of my recently-submitted book doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue. However, it outlines what my research has been about in recent years so I have to be able to trot it out.
A social history (yes, that describes it well)
of amateur music-making (make no mistake, that’s what we’re talking about – it’s not generally about serious, cutting-edge classical music)
and Scottish national identity (this is such a big deal, that it’s inextricably interwoven throughout the whole book)
[And then there’s the subtitle!] : Scotland’s printed music, 1880-1951 (I’ve been looking at the output of Scottish publishers during this era, which proved much more interesting than even I had ever imagined. When I got to 1951, I got to fever-pitch excitement. You’ll have to wait for the book to find out why!)
But, back to the questions of last night. I’ll be revising the book when it returns from the reviewer(s). I’ll also be investigating a particular aspect of my research that still merits even deeper investigation. I’ll be exploring a bigger, richer library collection than I usually have access to, and I look forward to engaging with a lot of different research scholars, hopefully gaining fresh ideas and maybe ideas for new directions or collaborations.
Most of all, I’ll be settling into my academic role – yes, I know, I’m a seconded researcher back in my home institution, but it’s new for me to be a Fellow for a few months – and I’ll be thinking about my future ‘second career’ as a researcher once I retire from music librarianship next summer.
Yesterday, I blogged about the Scottish International Piano Competition for our library blog, Whittaker Live. I found myself reflecting that the blog posts which attract most attention tend to be the ones that share tips or insights about how to do something or how something was done. If a blog post is about an event, then it really needs to share something new or extra, that the reader won’t readily find elsewhere.
Clearly, blogging about an event that runs for a week, in the context of a competition that has only just started, can be problematical, especially if there’s already a good competition website sharing plenty of information. Readers won’t want to read a re-hash of what’s already out there. And you can’t write about semi-finals or finals, or even say much about repertoire.
I did what I could! What could I share that’s new? Well, I linked to websites about the soloist opening the competition. I highlighted a useful piano anthology in our own library collection, which might appeal to anyone who was at the opening recital. I invited readers to check our catalogue for music and recordings of pieces that they might encounter during the competition. And I noted that, working in the library, we couldn’t even hear the recital!
Still, I felt something was missing. I went for my tea-break just as the audience was coming out of the recital. I got talking to someone at the cafe-bar. Had they enjoyed it?, I asked.
And it turned out that they had. It was all I needed. An anonymous reaction just perfect for inclusion in quotations marks in my blog post. The three words were just a standard response to an enjoyable event, certainly neither insightful nor attributable, but they gave my posting the human touch.
When my line-manager suggested I could give colleagues an update on my current projects and plans, I must confess I freaked out a little bit. Everyone else was talking about things happening in our library. I worried that ‘What Karen gets up to when she’s not being a librarian’ might come across as a boast-fest. It wasn’t about library news and developments, or services, or anything like that. I don’t research librarianship – I research music. My ‘research family’ are interested, but there’s no reason why anyone else should be! I tried to be absolutely factual, and to demonstrate how I chose my research subject because I wanted to study something relevant to students on one of the degree courses at the Conservatoire. I wanted it to be useful.
I was once told people’s attention begins to wander after 20 minutes – so I allowed myself about five minutes – three quarters of a Pecha Kucha presentation. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be too long?
First I had to explain my interest in research. I shared that, back in 2004, I decided to fund myself to study for a PhD, in my spare time.  (I had never finished the one I had once studied for in Exeter before I even trained to be a librarian. Believe me, it wouldn’t have been useful in the workplace. Cantus firmus treatment in fifteenth century English polyphony? Definitely only for mediaeval enthusiasts! I had started writing that first thesis, but think I lost interest partly for that very reason.) To keep myself interested, the new PhD topic had to be relevant to RCS, and my circumstances (a full-time working mum with three primary-school aged sons) meant the university had to be local. That’s how I ended up researching Scottish music at Glasgow Uni. I hoped the knowledge gained would be useful.
Next, I described how the Scottish song-collectors that I researched for my PhD, lived a long time ago, and even my subsequent research projects stopped when Queen Victoria was young. This meant that whenever I was asked to talk to our trad music students, I found that I had less to say about the 20th century Scottish song-books in our collection. However, I didn’t want to leave the impression that nothing much happened between 1920 and the second half of the 20th century. (The teaching staff cover the recent history, so that didn’t concern me much!)
I explained that, having done the PhD and a couple of research projects, I decided I wanted to write another book, to fill in the gap I’d identified. I approached my publisher again.
A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity: Scotland’s Printed Music, 1880-1951
Naturally enough, I suggested a title at that point. But in the end, my publisher chose a better title for me – this one – when I signed the contract. It says exactly what it ought to say, but it’s a bit long! However, the book is about amateur music-making, because that’s what Scottish music publishers published – and it is about national identity, because they published so many Scottish songbooks! A long, accurate title can only be a good thing. Without a word of a lie, if anyone asks why the library has so many Scottish song-books, the answer is that it’s because they reflect different interpretations of national identity over a couple of hundred years. And my book will hopefully back this up!
My narrative began in 1880, because that’s where my first book stopped. I decided the book would finish in 1951. As well as some significant events that year, it marked when television came to Scotland. That was one topic too many; and my music publishers were dying out anyway!
I described what the book is about. It begins by focusing on two Glasgow publishers (I may have mentioned the occasional woman publisher or RCS woman piano teacher … )
Then I wrote about dance music – I may also have mentioned racism in Victorian music – and I wrote about books of songs for children. I wrote about Scottish songbooks costing a lot – and very little.
I wrote about educational music published by the Scottish music publishers, and I wrote about the publishers’ efforts to get Scottish music to expats who had emigrated.
Although I never intended to write about recording music or broadcasting it on the radio, the publishing and recording and broadcasting all seemed to be connected in different ways, so … I covered that too.
And then when I’d done all that, I decided to write about why Scottish music publishers didn’t publish classical music.
My book has been sent to the publisher; there will be reviewing and editing and indexing before it’s ready to actually be published. I’m waiting to hear if the reviewer liked it, right now. Nail-biting times!
Hoping that my audience weren’t getting tired of the sound of my voice, I also mentioned that I’m about to take up a temporary honorary research fellowship at the University of St Andrews, in the School of History, from September to December. It’s the first Ketelbey Fellowship, named after the first woman history lecturer in St Andrews. Doris’s brother was an English composer – we have some of his music. I’ll be in St Andrews on Wednesdays and Thursdays, but still working back in RCS Whittaker Library the rest of the week. I anticipate editing the book, doing some more research, getting to know other scholars in the department, and I’ve been invited to give a couple of lectures – one in History and one in the Music department.
Next summer, I’ll be retiring from the library, but I hope I’ll still be a part-time researcher at RCS. If anyone else needs a part-time researcher, do get in touch – I couldn’t stand a retirement filled with daytime TV! I freely admit – I’m the librarian that is utterly sick of cataloguing, but loves doing research. An embarrassing oddity? Can’t be helped. Ideally, I’d like my book to have been published by the time I retire from librarianship, but who knows? Meanwhile, the fellowship gives me the opportunity to build up the research side of my profile.
I didn’t want to be boastful – I hope it didn’t come across that way! But at the same time, I didn’t want to sell myself short, and I didn’t want to be apologetic for being who I am. I hope I succeeded!
For a couple of years, I’ve had a few posts saved as drafts – but I’d never posted them. They contained writing that I had had second thoughts about, thinking they might ultimately get incorporated into the book I’ve been writing. Often containing a fair amount of detail, I didn’t want them out in the big wide world all alone, outside the context of the bigger picture.
Occasionally, I’ve deleted such a draft, deciding I had no further use for it. This morning, two more were intentionally trashed, but then … oops! my finger slipped, and I deleted a substantial draft about James S. Kerr! This wasn’t intentional. However, the book has now been submitted to the publisher; in fairness, I think Kerr has been given generous coverage there. I don’t feel bad about accidentally deleting this extra bit of writing. It appeared as though I wrote it quite a while before I wrote the chapters focusing on different aspects of Kerr and Mozart Allan’s output, and what will appear in the book represents deeper thought about Kerr’s place in Scottish music publishing history.
I also intentionally deleted a short piece about three musical boys from Greenock. If I return to that idea, it’ll be there in my head in any case, because one of them was the grandfather-in-law I never met!
Sometimes it’s not a bad thing to let things go. Blogs are great places for less formal, experimental or just preparatory writing. But by the same token, not every post needs to be there forever!
(Image: one of the Berkeley Street premises later connected with Kerr’s.)
In the continuing saga of my explorations into writing with AI, you’ll remember that yesterday found me getting one of my own blog posts ‘translated’ by the Jetpack bot. It didn’t have the same voice as me in the slightest. My blog posts generally consist of commentary on something I’ve been researching; discussion of my methodology; or just an update on something exciting in connection with either my role as a researcher or as a hybrid librarian/researcher. Sometimes I’ll muse upon how I feel about my own unique hybrid role.
Yesterday, the obliging Jetpack bot saw that I was excited about reaching some new milestones. I was excited in a quiet, thoughtful, academic kind of way. Jetpack-Bot, on the other hand, was breathlessly enthusiastic, inviting my readers to follow me as I celebrated these amazing achievements and exploits.
I dutifully shared Jetpack-Bot’s translation after my own blog post, so that readers could compare our written styles. At that point, I noticed a button which invited me to alter the tone of the translation. That’s what I propose to do today, with this posting.
What you have just read was all my own writing, but I adopted Jetpack-Bot’s title. Now we’ll give the bot free rein for the rest of the posting!
Here is what Jetpack-Bot created first:-
Exploring the Depths: Crafting the Perfect Tone with AI Writing
Embarking further into my AI writing experimentations, you may recall my previous encounter where I subjected one of my blog posts to the translation capabilities of the Jetpack bot. To my dismay, the resulting content lacked even a trace of my authentic voice. Typically, my blog revolves around my insightful commentary on research, methodological discussions, or enthralling updates relating to my roles as both researcher and hybrid librarian. On occasion, I also muse upon the unique nature of my hybrid profession.
During my recent venture, the ever-helpful Jetpack bot detected my excitement as I reached significant milestones. However, while my excitement resonated in a quiet, contemplative, and academic manner, Jetpack-Bot exuded an uncontrollably enthusiastic tone, urging my readers to join in on the celebration of these extraordinary achievements and ventures.
Out of duty, I shared Jetpack-Bot’s translated version alongside my original blog post, providing readers with an opportunity to compare our writing styles. It was at that moment I noticed a button beckoning me to adjust the tone of the translation. And so, today, in this new entry, I propose to seize that opportunity and sculpt the perfect tone for my content.
There’s a Choice of ‘Tone’. I opted for ‘serious’:-
(The bot seems to think that long words make for a more serious tone – what do you think?!)
Crafting the Perfect Tone: Unveiling the Depths of AI Writing
Delving deeper into my explorations of AI-assisted writing, it is worth recalling the recent incident in which I submitted one of my blog posts for translation by the Jetpack bot. Regrettably, the resulting content bore no semblance to my distinct voice. As a rule, my blog entries consist of scholarly commentary on my research endeavors, methodological discussions, or intriguing updates pertaining to my multifaceted identity as a researcher and hybrid librarian. Occasionally, I reflect upon the profound implications of my unique professional role.
Upon analyzing the Jetpack bot’s response, I discovered its unwavering enthusiasm in response to my excitement surrounding recent milestones. However, rather than mirroring my restrained and thoughtful academic enthusiasm, Jetpack-Bot appeared overtly exuberant, urging my readers to accompany me on the exhilarating journey through remarkable achievements and exploits.
Out of a sense of duty, I shared the Jetpack-Bot’s translated rendition alongside my original blog post, allowing readers to discern the stark contrast in our respective writing styles. Interestingly, I observed a button inviting me to modify the translation’s tone. Consequently, I now intend to seize this opportunity, in the present discourse, to calibrate the tone and essence of my written content with utmost precision.
Well, I think that’s enough for now, to be truthful. I wrote this in my lunchbreak, and it’s time to get back to work. I’ll hit ‘Publish’ and see what my readers make of it all.
Do you keep lists, partly at least for the joy of ticking things off them? I certainly do.
In terms of milestones, today I can track significant progress: not only have I decided on the titles of my two forthcoming seminars at the University of St Andrews, but something even more momentous has occurred. My Fellowship ID card is ready before I’ve even got there. It’s all very exciting!
Moreover, the chapter I promised for someone else’s essay collection is pretty much drafted. That unidentifiable editor? Well, I sought help from a genealogical expert, and was pointed towards an individual I hadn’t really considered, in a street I already knew about. It’s a distinct likelihood rather than a certainty, but I’m happy to leave it there. So that went into the contributed chapter, and it feels a bit more ‘anchored’ as a result.
So, I now have a little time to mull it over and make sure I’m happy with it. I do enjoy writing!
(I thought I could just ask the AI bot to suggest a title, but it kindly offered to rewrite my post too. Just for the purposes of comparison, read on to see how it suggested changing the text I actually authored! Clearly, I need to be more flamboyant in my style. The bot did offer me the opportunity to change the tone. I’ll try that another time … )
NB I wrote the above. The bot suggested the title … and what follows!
Milestones: Seminars, Serendipity, and Writing Delight
Join me in celebrating the remarkable milestones I have achieved on my journey. Today, I reflect on the significant progress made as I announce the titles for my upcoming seminars at the esteemed University of St Andrews. But the excitement doesn’t end there – an even more momentous occasion awaits. My Fellowship ID card has arrived ahead of schedule, adding to the thrill of anticipation!
In addition to these accomplishments, I share the progress made on a chapter I pledged to contribute to an essay collection. Through the guidance of a genealogical expert, I uncovered an unexpected lead – an individual I hadn’t previously considered, residing on a street I was already familiar with. Though not yet confirmed, this newfound possibility has contributed depth and a sense of grounding to the chapter.
Now, with time to reflect and refine, I take pleasure in the art of writing, ensuring utmost satisfaction with my work. Join me on this exhilarating journey of milestones, serendipitous discoveries, and the joy that writing brings.
I was excited today to see a Twitter (okay, sorry, X) posting from WordPress about their new Jetpack facility to use AI in blogging. I’m not terribly concerned about having AI do my writing for me – I’m quite confident about my own abilities! However, when it comes to picking eyecatching titles, then I’m certainly up for it. If Jetpack can create a title which will attract readers, then why not let it try?
As a matter of policy and ethics, I shall be explicit that Jetpack’s AI has helped with the title, whilst the blog post itself is all my own work. If, at a later point, I decide to experiment further, then I’ll make that explicit too. The only input to the present posting is the suggested titles, which I have quoted below in double inverted commas. As you see, I ended up choosing my own title for this posting, since none of the suggestions were suitable. Karen 1, AI – nil.
Initial attempts haven’t enthralled me, I must say. I said I needed a title, and it suggested “How to Boost Your Productivity with These 10 Simple Tips”. That doesn’t relate to this blog post.
I tried again, asking, I need a title for this posting. “Exploring the Wonders of Nature: A Journey into the Enchanting Wilderness” doesn’t exactly cut it either.
Was I not making myself clear? Please make a title for this blog post, I asked. “Unleashing the Power Within: Empowering Yourself for Success and Fulfillment” is what Jetpack suggested.
Finally, in despair, I asked this: I am curious about using AI for creating imaginative blog post titles. Please suggest a title. Oh dear, oh dear! “Unveiling the Creative Forces: Harmonizing Human Imagination with AI Ingenuity”? That doesn’t look my cup of tea at all!
I wondered if it only created nice titles when it has been allowed to create the blog post itself, first? I hadn’t yet given the bot my full text, so maybe it couldn’t see it. Suddenly, there was the answer. (Obvious, really!)
I put all this text into a new blogpost but submitted it to AI with the final words, I need a title for this. And there it was. I haven’t used the suggested title – it was my fault for trying to write about too many things in one posting, and I confused the bot with what I was talking about!
Next time, I’ll remember to be more focused on just one topic, and we’ll see what happens…
Today, I shared three of my own blogposts (on this site) via the Whittaker Library blog. We need to know what Chat GPT can do; where its limitations are; and what the ethical problems are around using it.
If something doesn’t feel right, we need to ask ourselves why. I never want to pass something off as my own work if it doesn’t represent my intellectual effort.
I had never 100% identified an editor of a particular songbook, despite extensive efforts. I had his name and an address, not much more. I decided to have a final attempt at tracing him, and planned a wee trip to the archives. SURELY I’d find him there!
And I did. But still nothing to pin him down. It was a very common name.
I did rule out someone else’s theory. Their chap died when mine was clearly alive and active.
Anyway, I came home from the archives to have another go at tracking him down.
I may now also have ruled out one of my alternative theories, sadly. There was a likely tenor soloist, with the right name, consistently linked with a Fifeshire village. For a year or more, it has been my best guess. A singer might well involve himself in collecting songs.
Last night brought success in tracing the singer, but not success in  proving him to be my editor! A common name and the right kind of occupation are insufficient to go on, especially when singing might not have been his day-job. I found a daughter’s wedding. Right village, right name, deceased father.
I found her parents. Wedding, census, Dad’s funeral all at the same village address. Parents both apparently sang in the same concert in the right town, as youngadults, some years before they married. Looking good, I’d say. I even found the singer performingwith the man who collaborated with the editor on an earlier publication.
But there are two problems.
Does a Fife fisherman – in 1910, 1911, 1921 and a retired fisherman when he died – edit a songbook jointly with a famous composer? That may be a somewhat subjective question.
But the bottom line is that I can’t connect the village fisherman, with the man at the Edinburgh address.
Hmm!
Not to worry. I have another line of enquiry, as it happens … another place, another guy with the same common name…
I submitted the book on time at the end of July. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing I was supposed to complete by the end of the month. There was also my social media input before the Congress, which had a very fixed deadline indeed.
And that meant I absolutely could not complete the third thing on time. However, today I submitted the peer-review that I should also have submitted at the end of July. HOORAY!!
Necessary morning caffeine!
Anyway, when I’m not tied up being a librarian, I can now concentrate on a chapter I’ve promised to write, and two new lectures in my capacity as Ketelbey Fellow. After the hard slog with the book and the anxiety that the peer-review caused me (It was not only challenging, but I hate missing deadlines) – having these three things to do feels positively invigorating.
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 