Singing in Public? New to me!

George Square Edinburgh University

A few weeks ago, I led a community ‘Scottish song’ event. I found myself singing a solo – well, to say ‘found myself ‘ is inaccurate, because I HAD planned and rehearsed it with a pianist.

But it seemed to go down well enough, so, emboldened by this, I sang a couple of examples from Nelson’s Scots Song Book at my Work in Progress talk on Wednesday.  This time, I prerecorded my accompaniment myself. (Three cheers for the decent mic I had purchased during lockdown!)

I reminded myself that my esteemed audience were a mixture of musicians and non-musicians, and I was there as a researcher rather than a star turn, so hopefully they’d listen kindly rather than critically! 

And it was fine. I suppose the more often you do something, the easier it gets. I have played in public, conducted in public, and sung in a choir numerous times, but singing solo? That’s something new.

I have another talk coming up in a few weeks.  Of the two songs I sang this week, I much preferred one to the other  – the range was more comfortable. So I looked through NSSB4 again last night, and hit upon a favourite – ‘I’ll aye ca’ in by yon toun.’ I took it to the piano for a first play through. Yes, I like Easson’s setting.  It’s reasonably modern, and playable.

At this point  – just as I’d finished the chorus – I was obliged to stop.

‘But, I was  …’

You’d be alarmed at how routine governs my activities.  No point causing upset by continuing to play, so the song will wait for another time. Supper couldn’t wait!

However, I thought I’d look for a YouTube rendition, to accompany my breakfast this morning, and what did I find, but a Topic recording of Jean Redpath performing it in the American Serge Hovey’s setting.  I never heard Jean sing live, but she got an honorary DMus from the University of Glasgow (my Alma Mater), and her enthusiasm for Scottish song was influenced by her time at the University of Edinburgh – as I sit with a cuppa in the Library cafe, I’m literally looking out at the School of Scottish Studies building where she’d have talked with Hamish Henderson.

I’ll aye ca’ in by yon toun

Having heard Redpath’s beautiful singing, I am less sure that my singing is a good idea, but there’s only one way I can share Easson’s setting, and that’s by playing it. Which, without a singer, wouldn’t work at all. I’d better get practising!

My Music Guide (1947): a Brave New Future

Thomas Nelson’s four-book set was for classroom use. Offering a mixture of history and theory (music-reading and tune-building), it even suggested pupils might plan a folk music concert. 

In this exciting, modern world, children were reminded that their parents’ music lessons consisted only of singing, whereas now they might also learn instruments like the recorder, and perhaps collect interesting clippings from the Radio Times.   (It sounds like another world, doesn’t it?)

Meanwhile, diving straight into the history, children were immediately introduced to the concept of folk music.

This is an English book, but I only recognised two of the three songs from my own school days. ‘The Carrion Crow’ wasn’t one I knew.

I’m delighted to find that kids were also introduced to the role of a song collector.  Although I have to say that the child in the foreground on the right looks bored and unimpressed by the proceedings, in the illustration! Still, Nelson’s editors presumably commissioned the illustration rather than use a stock image, so they’re due some credit.

The song collector

They’re still holding onto the idea that folk music came from country folk. I wonder if pupils ever asked what city folk sang?!

Of course, it wasn’t all folk music.  Kids were also introduced to the likes of Brahms, Handel and Purcell. Today, I imagine only examination classes would have textbooks introducing the classical greats.  On the other hand, more time is probably spent on world music, and efforts are made to consider music by women and people of underrepresented communities.  Times have moved on!

Nonetheless, it’s interesting to see how much knowledge children would have acquired in general classroom music lessons, and to compare it with modern times.

Even the books are brighter and more appealing today, I must admit!

‘I was born an American but my Forbears were Scotch’

I have written a lot about diasporic enthusiasm for Scottish culture. Usually, I’m thinking about music, but today’s archival materials embrace almost every topic under the sun. If it can be taught, then educational materials can be published. And thus it is that I encounter an American author’s proposal to Thomas Nelson’s in Edinburgh, which bears out everything I’ve ever said about people’s affinity with the Auld Country.  (Not to mention the annoying ‘Scotch’, a term unused by Scots!)

Thus I have a hankering, just for the romance of it, to have some of my verse published in Edinburgh, especially since I hope to be in that city in the not very far future […]

I can almost hear echoes of Brigadoon in the distance. But, the poet is practical.  Recognising the paper shortages at the time (post-World War 2), the enthusiastic poet offers money to help defray initial costs, because …

Once out, I believe both of us will profit by its […] appearance.

There was only one problem. The editor replied,

We regret very much, however, that we are not publishing poetry at the present time.

Image by Alan Kidd from Pixabay

Seminar, Weds 26 March, 1pm:- Perusing the Papers from Thomas Nelson and Sons’ Parkside Works (Research into Nelson’s Scots Song Book – Work in Progress)

Through the archway into the courtyard at IASH

As I’ve mentioned, I’m currently Heritage Collections Research Fellow at IASH, the Institute for Advanced Studies in the Humanities, at the University of Edinburgh. All guest fellows are invited to give a work-in-progress seminar, and it’s my turn on Wednesday 26 March at 1 pm. You can attend in person, or online – more details on the link below. The abstract tells you what my talk is about.

Abstract and Zoom link

I’ll explain what I’m looking for, and introduce you to some of the individuals I’ve been finding out about.  The one thing I can’t predict, is whether I shall by then have found the answer to my prime question!

Nelson's Parkside Works - old engraving
Hope Park Square, home of IASH
The ArchivesHub entry for the collection

Eyes on Stalks: a Day with the Archives

Last Friday, I submitted an article.  Yesterday, I did the minor edits for an accepted article and dispatched that, too.

And today, I headed to Edinburgh and resumed my archival pursuits.  The city was initially bathed in golden sunshine, though this didn’t even last until lunchtime.  It is certainly a very beautiful city.

Nearly spring in Edinburgh?

Unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t imagine how many brown folders of thin carbon copies will fit into an archival box. Carbon copies are as thin as airmail writing paper.  The bulk of this particular box consists of NINETEEN folders of rejection letters just for one year,  1948.

You might think I didn’t need to concern myself about books they didn’t publish,  but you never know what snippets about publishing policy or the economic climate – or anything else! – might turn up.  (And you’d be surprised at the number of would-be authors who didn’t take a definite refusal AS a definite refusal, but kept writing to argue their case!)

‘Do Forward the Bathing Costume’

That was an unexpected postscript, in one of the letters that wasn’t a rejection.  The publisher and author had evidently gone to the swimming baths, and the author went home without his trunks! Irrelevant, but it’s undoubtedly evidence they were on friendly terms, isn’t it?

I did discover – unneccessarily, but amusingly – that in the late nineteenth century, the managing director of this publishing house used to go open-air swimming in Leith before work in the summer. Clearly the tradition had either continued, or been revived, with the opening of the Portobello open-air pool in 1936 …

Mother and Son both Routledge Authors

Book cover: Street-by-Street Retrofit

Our talented son, Scott McAulay, has just shared with us an image of his latest triumph – a foreword in another Routledge book. (He’s less than half my age, so who knows how much he’ll have published by the time he reaches my advanced years!)

So, this year, between us we’ve had a hand in three Routledge books, or four if you include the paperback edition of one I contributed to earlier:-

Scott McAulay (foreword), in Mike McEvoy, Street-by-Street Retrofit: A Future for Architecture (2024)

Karen E. McAulay, A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity: Scotland’s Printed Music, 1880-1951 (2024)

Scott McAulay (chapter and a co-authored chapter) in The Pedagogies of Re-Use: The International School of Re-Construction (2024), ed. Duncan Baker-Brown, Graeme Brooker

Karen E. McAulay (chapter) in new paperback edition of Music by Subscription: Composers and their Networks in the British Music-Publishing Trade, 1676–1820 (2024, hardback 2022)

Dr Karen McAulay Exchange Talk and Book Launch at RCS, Glasgow 11 Nov 2024

Looking forward to my Exchange Talk and Book Launch next Monday, I made a wee promotional video! Maybe I’ll see you there, if you’re in/around Glasgow.

Click to Book tickets

Click for The book’s details

Hooray for Legal Deposit

Well, after all my Stationers’ Hall research a few years ago, you won’t be surprised to see me say that!

The Edinburgh Companion to Women in Publishing, 1900-2020 (Edinburgh University Press, 2024)

But I had reason to be grateful again today, when I needed to consult an expensive new book of essays from Edinburgh University Press. Only a few universities have it in electronic format (not accessible to external readers, for licensing reasons), but there was ONE printed copy in Scotland – presumably the legal deposit copy.  A trip to the National Library of Scotland was called for.  (I am so used to going upstairs to the rare books reading room, with all the book cushions and stands, weighted ‘book snakes’ and fragile volumes, that it was quite a novel experience to be heading to the general reading room to see a shiny new book in all its glory!)

From a drizzly start in Glasgow, it turned into a glorious warm and sunny autumn day, showing Edinburgh at its best.  (Which is more than can be said for Glasgow, sulking in the rain upon my return!)

And the book was fascinating, despite seemingly not referencing anything related to music.  It was wide-ranging in subject-matter and chronological coverage. (120 years is a long time in book-publishing.)  I read a couple of chapters, making a mental note that I might have reason to come back to it again next year.

Sometimes, you need to look at a book, just to make sure you haven’t missed anything! I can finish my article now, reassured that I haven’t overlooked any unexpected new commentary.  It was a long shot!

It’s Happening! Order ‘A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity’ … with a Discount Code

Friends, my forthcoming book, A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity: Scotland’s Printed Music, 1880-1951, can now be ordered! 

It’s a proud day – I’m so excited.  (Amazon even recommended it to me the other day, which I found quite amusing!)

Table of Contents

(from the book – and the Routledge website)

  • Introduction
  • 1 An Era of Opportunity for James S. Kerr and Mozart Allan
  • 2 Nights Out Dancing and Evenings with the Children: Enduring Kerr and Mozart Allan Titles
  • 3 The Saleability of Scottish (and Irish) Songs
  • 4 Education, Preservation, Organisation
  • 5 Expanding Horizons
  • 6 Multimedia Technology, from Magic Lanterns to Recordings and Broadcasts
  • 7 Publishing ‘Classical’ Music in Scotland
  • Conclusion

Description

(again, from the Routledge website)

Late Victorian Scotland had a flourishing music publishing trade, evidenced by the survival of a plethora of vocal scores and dance tune books; and whether informing us what people actually sang and played at home, danced to, or enjoyed in choirs, or reminding us of the impact of emigration from Britain for both emigrants and their families left behind, examining this neglected repertoire provides an insight into Scottish musical culture and is a valuable addition to the broader social history of Scotland.

The decline of the music trade by the mid-twentieth century is attributable to various factors, some external, but others due to the conservative and perhaps somewhat parochial nature of the publishers’ output. What survives bears witness to the importance of domestic and amateur music-making in ordinary lives between 1880 and 1950. Much of the music is now little more than a historical artefact. Nonetheless, Karen E. McAulay shows that the nature of the music, the song and fiddle tune books’ contents, the paratext around the collections, its packaging, marketing and dissemination all document the social history of an era whose everyday music has often been dismissed as not significant or, indeed, properly ‘old’ enough to merit consideration.

The book will be valuable for academics as well as folk musicians and those interested in the social and musical history of Scotland and the British Isles.

Women in the Wings, Women on the Stage: Historical Success Stories in Scottish Music History

Edwardian lady in hat

I was bemoaning my many failings yesterday, when I was told (firmly) that I should be more positive and regard myself as a success-story. Unfortunately, I grew up being made so aware of my deficiencies that I’m kind of pre-programmed to look on the dark side.  I’ve never quite matched up to expectations!

There’s no Pleasing Some People

Mind you, the criticisms have changed over the years:-

  • You’re clumsy, untidy and hopeless at sport’;
  • ‘Don’t be disappointed if you fail your 11-plus exam’;
  • ‘You need a secretarial qualification – in case your research doesn’t get you a job’;
  • ‘that “Dr” on your address-labels looks like showing-off’,
  • ‘So-and-so says all those qualifications are ridiculous’,
  • Are you writing another boring book?’

Which just goes to show that some people are never happy, and maybe I should disregard the comments altogether. For what it’s worth, my books are fascinating! And I rather like my ostentatious “Dr”. Liking my ‘letters’ is probably a failing too.

Being a Successful Woman in the Early 20th Century

Tools of the trade?

However, when I consider how much harder it must have been to be a successful woman a hundred years ago, I’m mightily impressed by the women I’ve encountered during my researches into Scottish music publishing. I’m contemplating writing an article about them, but they are often ridiculously modest and very hard to track down, which presents a would-be writer with quite a few problems!

So, who have I got? No, I’m not going to name them just yet. Suffice to say, I have two ladies whose death certificates mention music publishing. And a piano teacher who wrote and self-published a handful of really rather good songs, along with raising three children. And the entertainer’s mother who arranged some Scottish hits. (So far, I’ve only traced documentation of her up to her marriage and the birth of her first child – so frustrating!)

Best of all – and I’ve only recently started researching this in more depth, so she gets the most passing of mentions in my forthcoming book – an incredible lady whose father-in-law started up the business, but who very definitely eventually ran the business herself, with her husband helping her (not the other way round). At the same time, she was a much sought-after conductor with her own orchestra. Wow! Impressive. She didn’t have children. In those days, I can’t imagine how she’d have done what she did, if there was a whole brood of Edwardian children with all their white frilly laundry to do, and no convenience foods! One maidservant? Or two?

I’ve encountered another woman, a singer, whose life looks equally fascinating in different ways. Not a publisher, this time, though. She needs a different article written about her.

Only this weekend, I was reading a blogpost which said that there weren’t really that many women booksellers in the Victorian era, which I think makes it all the more remarkable that these late Victorian and early-twentieth century Scotswomen were quietly forging careers in the music business. So, I shall carry on quietly digging away to find out what I can about them all, and at some point, one, or hopefully two interesting articles will emerge. Watch this space!

Success, for me, is research findings, in print!