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.
As a librarian, I would occasionally read articles about reminiscence therapy – when you assemble a collection of assorted ‘things from earlier days’, whether books or household objects, as conversation starters for groups of older people. I only worked in public libraries for three years, and I suspect it was before ‘reminiscence therapy’ was a thing; but later, I would read these articles with interest and think what a lovely idea it was. More recently, I’ve read about how people have strong, mostly positive memories of music they enjoyed in their twenties, when life was fresh and exciting and it felt as though they had the world at their feet.
I have never had the opportunity to organise any activities like this – though I did begin to realise last year, that people also seem to enjoy remembering their school music and singing lessons!
As I review my Leng Medal Memories interviews, watching the video recordings and correcting the transcriptions, I realise that my interviewees often thanked me for this opportunity to relive their memories of singing Scots songs for the Leng silver and gold Medal competitions. In turn, I feel privileged to be ‘there’ with them as they open a window into the past, allowing me a glimpse of the children that they were, and the memories that were still with them. I’ve been showed medals, certificates and prize books. We’ve looked at the little Nelson’s Scots Song Books that school children often used. We’ve talked about teachers they remember, songs that they chose or were encouraged to sing, and a whole range of emotions from fear and anxiety, to immense pride.
Annual Leave
I still have a few transcriptions to review, but I have annual leave coming up, so if I do anything with the transcriptions during that time, it will be with coffee and a biscuit beside me, and a determination not to squander my entire ‘holiday’ at my desk! If I don’t use my vacation allocation, I lose it, and that would never, ever do!
I can’t NOT blog for a whole month. Neither can I really blog ahead, setting timers for it to go live, apart from this present posting. I like to think that anyone returning to this blog will always find something new to read, but I never know what I’ll feel inspired to write about!
Anyway, this is my explanation, if there are fewer postings during the month of July: I’m trying to be on holiday!
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
It’s important always to bear in mind the wide range of music that can be described as Scottish. It’s certainly not just folksy-sounding songs from farm workers of long ago! Styles have changed, and tastes varied over the centuries. And as I demonstrate here, different types and classes of people made contributions of a more or less lasting kind.
One Single Song
It’s so easy to go chasing after red herrings! This time it was a single song, and I only looked it up because I didn’t recognise the title. I think I’ll stop with what I’ve found out – quite enough for my purposes.
Lady John Scott (1810–1900)
Going through the Leng Gold Medal shortleets (Scots for ‘shortlists’) – I several times encountered a song that I hadn’t any recollection of seeing before: Lady John Scott’s ‘Durisdeer’.
Lady John Scott – born Alicia Ann Spottiswoode – was born in Berwickshire, now referred to as the Scottish Borders. She was a composer and poet, and enthusiastic about Scottish heritage – indeed she was the first female Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland.
Ought I to have known more about her? Arguably not. She’s famous for one particular song, ‘Annie Laurie’, out of those that have actually been published. In fact, the Scottish Poetry Library website says that she ‘rewrote’ the words to ‘Annie Laurie’.
‘Durisdeer’
We’ll meet nae mair at sunset, when the weary day is done …
Opening lines of ‘Durisdeer’, by Lady John Scott
I was, in fact, wrong about not having encountered ‘Durisdeer’ before, though, because it’s in a couple of song-books in the Whittaker Library at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. Since I indexed most of the Scottish song books in the library – an activity which certainly paid off, because it means that ‘my’ Scottish song index is constantly, and universally available – it follows that I have almost certainly indexed those two instances of ‘Durisdeer’. However, I would have had no reason at the time to have noticed this particular song, which appears to have been published once in London by Lonsdale, ca.1850 (the Whittaker Library hasn’t got that one), and then by Glasgow and London firm Paterson ca.1910 in Lady John Scott’s Thirty Songs, and again by Paterson in the New Scottish Orpheus Vol.3 in 1937. The Thirty Songs must also have been reissued ca.1930-31, for I found a review of it in Music and Letters, April 1931. (More of that anon!)
Significantly, the person at the head of Paterson’s was John Michael Diack, who was a teacher at the Glasgow Athenaeum School of Music and later became Superintendent of Music for Glasgow, as well as being Paterson’s editor. (He gets several mentions in my Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity, now available in paperback). Diack’s inclusion of this song in two Scottish song compilations (the one by Lady John Scott herself, and the New Scottish Orpheus) would also have helped bring it both to music teachers’ and to singers’ attention.
Kenneth McKellar popularised it in the late 1950s. Probably as a result of this, it began to appear in music festivals! I found it in the Leng Gold Medal shortleets from 1968 onwards – it could have been sung before that, but detailed records only survive from 1967 onwards. It was also sung in the nearby Arbroath Musical Festival in 1959, and in Perthshire festivals in the 1950-60s. I’m sure it must have been sung in a number of music festivals, but I’ve done enough searching!
Kenneth McKellar sings ‘Durisdeer’
‘Durisdeer’ is a pretty piece. It’s named after the place by that name, has Scottish lyrics, and is by a Scottish woman composer, but it’s not what you’d call a ‘traditional’ folk song. Whilst it undeniably is Scottish, it doesn’t sound very Scottish, apart from the use of Scottish dialect and a gapped melodic outline at the midway and final cadences of this two-verse song.
Mind you, I have mused and written often enough about what actually counts as Scottish, concluding that a bit like beauty, Scottishness is in the eye (ear) of the beholder.
Anyway, back (briefly) to the review of Lady John Scott’s Thirty Songs. This reassures me that, for all ‘Durisdeer’ is tuneful enough, I don’t need to feel too bad about not having known it:-
Lady John Scott: Songs (including Annie Laurie). She wrote the tune and fabricated the words of one immortal thing. This volume shows that as long as she stuck to Scots sentiments things went well. There is nothing here to equal ‘Annie Laurie,’ but still some pleasant things remain. [Paterson.]
Music and Letters, Vol. 12, No. 2 (Apr., 1931), p.214, Review by ‘Sc.G.’
‘Sc.G.’ was Scott Goddard (1895-1965), a music critic and Walford Davies’ assistant at Temple Church. He had studied at the Royal College of Music. I don’t know about the other 28 songs in the book. If, like ‘Durisdeer’, they’re ‘pleasant things’ rather than an ‘immortal thing’, then at least Goddard and I agree!
(The Scottish Orpheus Vol.3 is still available, now distributed by Novello.)
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
It’s fair enough to say that I find spreadsheets endlessly fascinating, although I don’t use them for number-crunching. However, they’re invaluable for comparing data. In fact, I discovered this before I even knew the word, ‘spreadsheet’, since I did some repertoire comparison for my Masters research degree on mediaeval English plainsong uses at the University of Exeter in 1979-80. It was a 60K-word Masters thesis – I’d intended to continue it to doctoral level, but decided instead to write it up as a Masters then changed subject for the PhD. (And that became my first doctoral attempt, the one that never got finished.)
Computer printout from my Masters thesis, 1980
This was before the era of personal computers. My data was tabulated manually on a very long roll of kitchen shelf-lining paper, which opened out the full length of the Music departmental library in ‘Knightley’ on Streatham Drive. I compared post-Pentecostal Alleluias and sequences from various English liturgical manuscripts, along with pieces of plainsong from an Augustinian burial rite, now in Shrewsbury public school library. That’s nearly as much as you need to know about my Masters!
Just a Roll of Paper!
Computer Science? Yes, Indeed!
However, one other interesting fact is that I was the first music postgrad to involve the Computer Science department in my repertoire analysis. I filled in cards – or forms, can’t remember which – which were input by the computer scientists to arrive at statistics as to how much different categories of plainsong correlated in terms of repertoire, across different monastic orders and geographic locations.
Karen Elisabeth Manley, English mediaeval liturgies and their plainsong. Exeter, 1980.
The Magical Microsoft Excel
Since my second incarnation as a musicologist in the present century, I’m sure you can imagine how exciting it has been to be able to compare repertoires of Scottish song in a variety of different contexts. But this time I can save my spreadsheets safely – they’re much more portable and more readily manipulable.
In the context of my Leng Medal research, my ‘cup truly overfloweth’ this week, since I’ve seen lists of songs sung, enabling me to see how tastes have changed over the past sixty or so years. I’ve been comparing what was sung, against a few different song books available at particular times. Obviously, I can’t compare ALL the songs against ALL the song books that exist – I would surely go insane! Indeed, I couldn’t even capture ALL the data for every single year over that period – I simply didn’t have time. But carefully judged snapshots are certainly giving me food for thought. I’ve had endless fun today, producing charts and tables to examine the data in different ways.
The Most Popular Songs sung by Leng Gold Medal Finalists
Oh, did you think I was going to tell you which they were? Sorry, not at the moment – I need to keep specifics for when I write my research up later! It’s certainly interesting, though.
I only picked nine different years for close examination. Suffice to say, they have given me plenty of hard data to set my oral history interviews in context.
And not a roll of shelf-lining paper in sight nowadays!
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
Whilst I had intended to conduct perhaps 50 interviews in connection with my Leng Medal Memories research, I haven’t amassed quite that many – but the interviews have generally been nearer to 30 minutes than the 15 minutes that I innocently projected, so I’ve probably got easily as many recorded minutes as I initially aimed for!
As I mentioned last week, I’ve been editing my interview transcriptions, and correcting any auto-correct infelicities. (Teams and TurboScribe both struggle a little with Scottish place-names and song titles.) One of my interviewees sang, ‘O Gin I were Whar’ Gadie Rins’ in the late 1960s. I knew the name of the song, but I couldn’t put a tune to it, so I Googled it. (As you do!) Spellings vary – as you’ll see.
Well, I found Kenneth McKellar singing it with a small classical chamber ensemble. (Lovely bassoon part, I must say.) The YouTube version was a 1995 Lismore remastered recording. I haven’t tried to establish the original date, though I believe it was recorded for the BBC in the late 1950s or early 1960s. But this setting was so delicate and precise that it was hard to imagine a youngster of eleven or twelve singing it quite like this. Quite apart from the fact that the Leng Medal competition has always been unaccompanied!
My next dip into YouTube found tutor Irene Ross talking about it and then singing it, with a ukelele, for Feis Rois followers. This is livelier and more authentic, but perhaps just a wee bit more ‘folky’ than might have been performed at a music competition by children of my own generation. But I could be wrong!
However, if the folk sound is what you’re looking for, then that interpretation is itself quite sedate compared to an invigorating 1999 recording by the Old Blind Dogs! Actually, I love this – one of my great frustrations in life is that I’ve been so embedded in the more classical side of music-making that I can only enjoy listening to this and would have huge difficulty trying to sing or play in anything like this idiom. I’d love to – but I can’t!
Oh well, I have to get back to these transcriptions, so I’ll stop here for now. Energised, you might say!
Image: Stanley Howe / Upstream Gadie Burn, from Wikimedia.
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
After a couple of months of online and a few in-person interviews, I’m at the stage now where I’m going through all my recorded interviews and transcriptions, reminding myself of highlights and key details.
This one just leapt out at me:-
‘The one thing I do remember is all the crowd standing up, after I had sung – and cheering and clapping and stuff, and that was the beginning of it, you know.’
Isn’t that glorious? I’m sure the Sir John Leng Trust will be delighted to read such heartwarming witness to Sir John’s inspired endowment. (I’ll keep the rest of that particular interview for later – I want to leave plenty of material for what I shall be writing in due course. I have a lot of data to draw upon.)
I aim to bring the interviewing to an end by the end of June; after that, I have some annual leave booked, and then I need to start writing! An article or two, a book chapter – and maybe organise a wee event or two.
This has turned out to be absolutely the most enjoyable, affirming piece of research. I’ve decided I love oral history, and conducting interviews is nowhere near as scary as I thought it might be!
(Incidentally – although my interviewing will mostly finish by the end of June, if anyone was literally bursting to share their own Leng Medal memories with me after that, then do get in touch. Even if an interview wasn’t feasible, I still might be able to draw upon memories shared by email.)
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
Just a quick post today – I realised that I do actually possess all three of the Scottish song books that have been awarded to Leng Gold medallists over the years. They make a pleasing display!
Mozart Allan’s Morven was awarded for many years. First published in 1890, it lived on for an incredibly long time, and is still valued by those who own it. I have spoken with winners a little younger than myself, who still have their copy of this book. (I have a hunch that Mozart Allan’s sister Euphemia may have had a hand in this publication. (See my recent RMA Research Chronicle article for more on this!*)
The next book prize was a Paterson book, J. Michael Diack’s Scottish Orpheus Collection, which actually goes back to 1922. (There had in fact been an earlier edition, resulting in Diack’s book being called the New Scottish Orpheus in some imprints.)
And lastly came Royal Scottish Academy of Music graduate Wilma Paterson and artist/author Alasdair Gray’s collaboration, their lavish Songs of Scotland (Mainstream Publishing, 1996), which is certainly amongst the most artistically pleasing modern collections that I’ve seen. Early winners of this one got a signed copy.
New Page about the Leng Medal Memories project
I’ve just made a new ‘Leng Medal Memories‘ page for this website – do take a look.
This isn’t really a scholarly post – just a reflection.
One of my informants remembers singing ‘Muirland Willie’ as their Silver Medal entry, and I was chuffed to find it in my Nelson’s Scots Song Book, Book 3 (‘words edition’). And yes, the ‘words edition’ does contain the melody line as well – just not the piano part.
Title page, Book 3 (pupil’s edition)
The book had reached me third hand – or was it fourth? How many hands has it passed through since someone stamped ‘Rockwell Primary School, November 1952’ on the title page? This tells me it was bought by a Dundee school the year it was first published. It must have lived in a class collection for some years, at some point ending up in a private home, and finally being sold to a friend of a friend, who generously got it on my behalf.
It’s a little bit battered, so it obviously got well-used. One page bears a carefully drawn treble clef – pretty accurate but not yet fluent – someone had been learning how to write music, evidently! Meanwhile, the back inside cover has a scrawled ‘THE END’! Was there a sigh of relief, or was it just an irresistibly blank page demanding to be scrawled on?
If Books Could Talk
I wonder how many Leng medal competitors used this copy? If books could talk, this one would surely recall feelings not only of excitement, enjoyment and pride, but also occasionally fear, nerves and perhaps embarrassment – all emotions that my interviewees have shared with me.
It would remember teachers who are still remembered half a century later; not to mention head teachers and deputy heads whose own musicality ensured that they gave music its proper place in the schools that they led.
The principal teacher of music at that time […] was a redoubtable lady and she made sure everybody knew everything …1
But I’d better put my little book away and get back to my interview transcriptions now!
Secondary school pupil commenting on Leng medal singing classes ↩︎
At some point, I’ll be making a list of the songs that juvenile Leng Scots Song Medal competitors recall singing as their competition entries. It’ll be interesting to compare them against the lists I’ve compiled in connection with a number of Scottish song books. Some kids (a few) chose a song that was entirely their own selection. Most seem to have been offered and taught a short selection of songs, from which they then made their choice.
What goes into a published song book like the four Nelson’s Scots Song Books, though? It was a combination of the compilers’ choice and, occasionally, printer’s practicality.
73 Years Ago …
On this day, 4 June 1953, the then editor of the fourth song book had received the initial proofs from Aird and Coghill the printer, and wrote to James Easson (the Dundonian Music Supervisor collaborating with Herbert Wiseman), to say that they needed two more songs to fill five more pages. Pure practicality! Moreover, the editor was leaving for a new job soon, and was keen to get the publication as far advanced as possible before they left.
Reading the correspondence, it looks as though, in response, Easson supplied ‘Ae fond kiss’ (which ended up occupying three pages) and ‘Maggie Lauder’.
Job done? No. The printers said that ‘Maggie Lauder’ had been supplied incomplete. Moreover, another song, ‘As I came over the Cairney Mount’ was too short. Neither ‘Maggie’ nor ‘Cairney Mount’ appeared in the finished publication. It looks as though an abbreviated ‘I wish I were where Helen Lies’ (occupying one page) was supplied instead. (Three and one do not equal five, but it’s of no consequence now!) But it all goes to show how much to-ing and fro-ing took place before a book is published in its final form.
And has either song even been used as a medallist’s performed entry? I don’t know. I haven’t interviewed that many people! But I’ll be going through my transcripts, so who knows?
It’s time for another update on the research that the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland has awarded me an Athenaeum Award to conduct.
By the end of tomorrow I’ll have interviewed some 25 or so Leng medallists who were awarded their silver and gold medals between the 1960s and 1990s. They went to a wide range of schools, though one or two schools have featured more than once. And they sang a wide range of songs. Some were nervous, some excited. Some knew they could sing – others were surprised to win – and all were overjoyed to be winners. I’ve been shown a lot of medals, proudly kept through the decades.
Interestingly, social media has been very helpful in augmenting my research findings. On Facebook, I’ve found folk in groups like Dundee Pals enjoy answering quick questions, and their answers are often highly informative. When I asked how many people had three or more family members with medals, the number of replies was quite remarkable!
The ‘Scottish Cringe’?
It wasn’t until last weekend when I conducted a face-to-face interview in Dundee, that someone mentioned ‘the Scottish cringe’. I guessed what that meant, and when it was explained to me, it was rather as I had guessed. It refers to the inferiority complex that many in Scotland have, having grown up in a Scotland that felt it was always subordinate to England, and looked down on by many politicians south of the border. I did look up where the phrase originated, but I only made a hasty search, so I’ll hold my tongue until I am sure of my facts. An article in Glasgow University Magazine last year provides useful context:-
In the context of my research into the Leng medal competitions, it occasionally led to pupils being encouraged to sing their songs in a refined, sanitised kind of accent – not exactly English, but certainly toned-down Scots. I’m sensing that this happened more amongst older medallists, and hopefully children now are encouraged to use their own natural accent – as they’d speak – rather than trying to put on something uncomfortably clipped and unnatural. Again, Facebook has been very helpful here – 38 comments in reply to my question! I’m bowled over.
“I was talking to a friend about the Leng medals yesterday and an interesting thing came up. Who was encouraged to sing their Scots song in their natural everyday accent? Did anyone get told to sing it ‘nicely’ in a posh concert-platform accent?!”
For the rest of this month, I’ll be going through my recordings and transcriptions, looking for interesting threads and making sure I have tabulated schools, songs and the names of long-remembered teachers! I’m also going to look at some archival material, which excites me considerably. Hopefully I could find further evidence of Mr Easson (and perhaps Mr Wiseman), the compilers of the Nelson Scots Song Books, around the time the books were published – and introduced into Dundee schools.
Excess Annual Leave Balance
I am taking annual leave in July. (If I don’t, I lose it, and that would never do.)
I won’t be capable of NOT blogging for a whole month, apart from which I do like to think that if someone comes back here after a couple of weeks away, there will always be something new for them to find. What it will be, I cannot yet say! (Additionally, as you’ll have noticed, I have a couple of research side-interests, so who knows what my month’s vacation might lead me to, if I feel the urge to investigate sudden bright ideas?)
Image: Head of a Boy Singing, by Merson(Creative Commons)
My Leng Medal Memories research is funded by an Athenaeum Award from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.
I’m English, although I’ve lived in Scotland most of my adult life – and I live in Glasgow, not Dundee. I’ve never entered the Leng Scots Song competitions. However, I do own a Leng silver medal – I got it on eBay, because I wanted one to illustrate postings about my Leng Medal research project. I put it on a bonnie red tartan ribbon and felt quite pleased with myself.
My faux pas – the decidedly wrong ribbon!
But there’s a wee problem! I learnt this week that silver medals came on a narrow blue ribbon. My red tartan gave me away as a rookie. Suitably embarrassed, I rooted around in my ribbons bag and found something more suitable.
And – breathe! That’s better.
(If today’s blog post is the first you’ve heard of my research project, then you can find out more about it here, and you can get in touch with me here. It’s not too late!)
(Cover pic: Nelson books to the left, Leng books to the right.)
Karen McAulay, Musicologist 