Material Evidence of Use: Music that was Loved

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I accepted a generous donation of old books to the Library a couple of weeks ago. This presented me, personally, with a bit of a problem because our offices, furniture and contents are being moved around, and I had proudly emptied most of my shelves in readiness.  There will be fewer shelves in the other office.  And now I had two shelves full of old Scottish music  – right up my street – which needed cataloguing.

  • Most vital priority – get them done before I retire from the Library.
  • Almost as vital – to get them done before the move on Thursday next week!

Of course, the lovely thing is that they’re books I’ve encountered in various research contexts … the PhD; the Bass Culture project (https://HMS.Scot); the book chapter on subscriptions; and my own forthcoming monograph.

I catalogued like crazy on Thursday and Friday. I’ve catalogued Sammelbande (personal bound volumes) of songs, piano music and fiddle tunes. I’ve shown colleagues books signed by George Thomson.  I’ve indexed Gow’s strathspeys and reels. And yesterday I blogged about James Davie and his Caledonian Repository.

But I’ve also just enjoyed handling the music, because sometimes one finds some endearingly human evidence of the scores being used, even to the point of needing mending.  It’s quite touching to ponder how much a piece had been used, before it actually needed stitching – here, along a line where the edge of the printer’s block had originally left a dent in the paper:-

Stitched on one side, pasted on the other!

I’ve smiled at Georgian ladies’ stitched repairs to much-loved pieces, noticed with amusement a handful of early Mozart Allan books (yes, including some strathspeys and reels) in a fin-de-siecle Sammelband which had seen better days; spotted piano fingerings pencilled in; and best of all, found a tartan ribbon in a volume dedicated to the Duke of Sussex – his personal copy, which was first sold out of the family’s possession in 1844.  His library was dispersed after he died in straitened financial circumstances:-

Nine Scots Songs and three Duetts, newly arranged with a harp or piano forte accompaniment / by P. Anthony Corri

Whittaker Library catalogue entry

This book has the Duke’s family crest on a label pasted inside, and the outer cover is embossed with  ‘A F’ (Augustus Frederick), reflecting the monogram on the title page.

The Duke of Sussex’s mongram
Augustus Frederick, Duke of Sussex (1773-1843)

The tartan endpapers and tartan ribbon between pp.30-31 are a perfect illustration of what I have written about in a chapter on tartanry in my forthcoming monograph.  Everyone – whether nobility or commoner – liked a bit of tartan on or inside their Scottish song books, and here, someone even found a bit of tartan ribbon to use as a bookmark.

I have just a few of those books left to catalogue now.  There’s an intriguing one without a cover or title page, waiting for 9 am on Monday  …!  Hopefully, I’ll end up with an empty bookcase again.

What does a Librarian want with a PhD, anyway?

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Few people in Glasgow knew that I had an unfinished first PhD guiltily lurking in my past, when I announced I wanted to do a PhD. It would actually be my second attempt. I’m told that someone (an academic?) asked that memorable and somewhat hurtful question, ‘What does a librarian want with a PhD, anyway?’

Chained to the shelves – Wimborne Minster Chained Library (Wikipedia)

I realised with a jolt, yesterday morning, that I would be retiring from librarianship exactly fifteen years to the day, since I submitted my thesis to the University of Glasgow. I never managed to cease being a librarian in order to become a full-time academic, because I had family responsibilities in Glasgow, and the chances of a full career-change without relocation were limited, to say the least. However, if I entered librarianship with the unfulfilled expectation of soon having a PhD from Exeter, and the aspiration to become a scholar-librarian …. well, I did achieve the latter aspiration. After getting the Glasgow PhD, I became partially seconded to research three years later, and I’ll continue as a part-time researcher when I’m unshackled from the library shelves.

I don’t know who it was that queried whether a librarian actually needed a PhD, more than twenty years ago. It’s probably a good thing I don’t know! However, if I could show that individual how I’ve just spent my afternoon, then maybe they’d begin to understand.

The other day, an academic colleague said they were putting a student in touch with me, to advise them about resources for a project. This afternoon, I was working from home as a librarian, so I decided to spend the time finding suitable resources for my enquirer. I had in mind a lever-arch file from my own research activities, that I knew was in my study-alcove.

Subject Specialist

[Scottish] ResearchFish

The more I thought about the query, the more things I thought of suggesting. I looked at my own monograph, for a start, along with a couple of essay collections that I’ve contributed to. I compiled a list, mostly but not entirely from the library catalogue. (I tweaked a few catalogue entries whilst I was at it. What does an academic want with a library qualification?, one might ask!) I The family balefully eyed the dining-room table that they were hoping to eat off, as I moved aside the ancient and modern books that were gaily strewn across its surface. However, I’m fairly content that I’ve done my preparation to help with the query. I’ve also enjoyed an afternoon in the company of old friends – the compilers, authors and editors of all those books!

A Value-Added Librarian

Listen, I wouldn’t have known any of those resources if I hadn’t done that PhD. I wouldn’t have known what the arguments were. I wouldn’t have known how nineteenth and early twentieth century song-collectors viewed their collections, nor the metaphors they used to describe them, nor which collections might be of particular interest. I wouldn’t subsequently have collaborated on The Historical Music of Scotland database. And if I hadn’t gone on researching, I wouldn’t have known about some of the more recent materials, either.

I kennt his faither! (A Scot knows what that means)

There might have been times when others wondered who I thought I was, but I am absolutely certain that it has come in useful!

YouTube video of my recent RCS Exchange Talk

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I’ve linked to this on my Publications page as a permanent record, but if you’re interested, you can see my talk on YouTube now:-

Engagement activity: RCS Exchange Talk, Monday 29 January 2024: ‘From Magic Lantern to Microphone: the Scottish Music Publishers and Pedagogues inspiring Hearts and Minds through Song’ – YouTube recording

Here’s a Health, Bonnie Scotland, to Thee (an old song by G. A. Lee)

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

George Alexander Lee published this ‘Scottish song’ in America with A. Fleetwood in New York ca. 1830, whilst this London publication by Alex. Lee & Lee is estimated at 1832 by the National Library of Scotland.

I’ve been wondering how old the expression ‘Bonnie Scotland’ actually is – certainly, this song is sixty years older than the alleged instance in the novel cited on LiveBreatheScotland.com. (I did a search and found ‘bonnie’ but not ‘bonnie Scotland’, so I won’t perpetuate the apparent fallacy by naming the book.)

Has anyone encountered the expression prior to 1830? A friend has suggested the date would be consistent with the years between George IV’s trip to Scotland and before Victoria and Albert’s later acquisition of Balmoral.

National Pride and Expats: Scottish themed songs in the Diaspora

A bit of early morning Googling does suggest that the phrase has been popular with visitors and nostalgic expats. Am I right in reaching this conclusion? The fact that the ostensibly Scottish song was first published in New York and London, not Edinburgh or Glasgow – would appear to bear this out. The song appears in Scottish publications a couple of decades later.

In the Lester S Levy Collection at Johns Hopkins Sheridan Libraries and University Museums

For your enjoyment, here’s a Victor recording of 1912, from the Library of Congress. (My understanding is that it is now in the public domain.)

Cover Image by Frank Winkler from Pixabay

Chills at Killarney

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Remember, I was looking forward to receiving a pile of old Sol-Fa music the other day?  Well, it proved as interesting as I expected.  And in amongst the copies that I was expecting, were a couple of choir booklets for ‘The Glen’ concerts – which were annual open-air concerts on the Glennifer Braes in Paisley.  I’ve written about these concerts, actually.  (You’ll see, when my book comes out!)

As predicted, the programmes were mainly of Scottish songs, but the first song in 1915 was an Irish one – ‘Killarney’.  I carefully read the score – I have no problem with the Sol-Fa note pitches, but I can’t have learned the rhythmic notation quite so well when we did it at school!  And then, I wondered if I could find a recording of the song, to see if I’d got it right!

I found a YouTube recording of 1905 by Marie Narelle.  I have not the first idea who this lady was, but it occurred to me that her singing style probably wasn’t a million miles from what the Paisley United Choirs would have considered a good rendition.  It was a strange feeling, to be listening to something 118 years old, and the closest I could get to what was sung on the braes that afternoon.

Killarney Lake, sung by Marie Narelle (1905) Edison Gold Moulded Record 9081

But that’s not all.  On a completely unrelated note, I remember reading about the fascination people had for echoes in the Georgian era, when I was researching the early 19th century Scottish song collector, Alexander Campbell.  Alexander Campbell went to Fingal’s Cave with a bagpiper in his boat, just to hear the echo.  And I read somewhere that in Ireland, people did a similar thing at Killarney Lake, where they’d take a few instrumentalists in the boat to listen to the echo – but sometimes the musicians would ask for more cash before they’d play a note!

Maybe it was my destiny to find that YouTube recording!

Why might William Moodie’s Miniature Scottish Song Book be Interesting?

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I blogged for the Whittaker Library this morning! It’s about William Moodie’s little book, Our Native Songs. Moodie features in the book that I’ve just finished writing, so I got a bit excited about this little songbook, even though it wasn’t the context in which I had been writing about him before. All the same, it has his words in the Preface, and it has a Glasgow connection, so it was lovely to handle it whilst I catalogued and blogged about it. (And now, I won’t be able to resist investigating the publisher, will I?!)

Read my library blogpost here:-

William Moodie and Glasgow’s ‘Normal School’

Moodie’s original collection as reviewed in The Stirling Observer, August 1886. (British Newspaper Archive)

(I love the idea that one could whip this tiny book out of one’s pocket if one was in company and suddenly needed the words of a song!)

Librarian & Student Collaboration: a Blog Post about Francis George Scott

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I’m so pleased with this lovely post, arising from an email exchange with one of our dedicated new Royal Conservatoire of Scotland singing graduates. I posted this on the Whittaker Library blog, Whittaker Live. I hope you like it. I am very grateful to our graduate contributor.

Francis George Scott – Would he make it into your Music Case?

On Either Side of the Divide: Classical v Trad

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay
Fence with road on one side.

Just a quick reflection, today.

Working on my final chapter, I encountered a composer about whom I knew comparatively little. However, when I discovered he was friendly with one of Scotland’s significant 20th century poets; that the two of them had corresponded extensively; and that the composer set lyrics written by the poet, I thought I ought to know more about both men. I consulted the Oxford Dictionary of Biography. On Amazon, I ordered a poem considered one of the poet’s greatest works. At work, I borrowed a score and a textbook. I also sent out an email, basically asking (in more scholarly terms), ‘is this composer any good?’ (And ‘would you put his songs in your music case, if you were filling it with your favourite repertoire?’)

The outcome was very interesting. I was directed to a singing tutor and a student who had worked on this repertoire. Both sang the composer’s praises – indeed they were enthusiastically generous in their praise.

I also had a response from a traditional music expert: their assessment was quite the reverse. Indeed, it reminded me of what happens when I introduce the songs of Marjory Kennedy Fraser to traditional music students. Looks mingling caution, boredom and blank incomprehension, steal over faces that were only minutes before quite animated and interested.

I’m a musicologist from the classical music tradition, working with supposedly ‘traditional’ folk song collections. Well, commercial collections of ‘traditional’ national songs. I really am stuck in the middle! It’s an interesting place to be.

Chat GPT (part 3) I asked it to define ‘Scottish’ music!

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I think you know my main thoughts about what counts as ‘Scottish’ – I posted about it only last week. However, having just played ‘Highland Cathedral’ as a crowd-pleaser at church this morning, I wondered what Chat GPT thought about that kind of thing. I always feel a bit guilty in two ways: purists quite rightly say it’s not by a Scottish composer, but there I am playing it all the same – whilst people who just like the music don’t want to feel they’re being put down by being ‘educated’ about the fact that it isn’t actually Scottish at all.

Here was my question:- “I’d like to write about the different ways a piece of music can be considered Scottish”

Chat Open AI responded accordingly. This is the link to their answer:- Scottish music explained.

It’s really not a bad response. But of course, I forgot to ask about ‘Highland Cathedral’, which as we all know is not remotely Scottish in origin – it’s just called a Scottish piece and is often played on bagpipes! So I tried again.

My next question:- “Why do some people say that the musical composition, ‘Highland Cathedral’, is not really Scottish?”

I can’t share the same link again, so I’ll show you what Chat Open AI actually said:-

The musical composition “Highland Cathedral” is often associated with Scotland due to its name and the use of bagpipes, which are strongly linked to Scottish music and culture. However, it is true that some people argue that “Highland Cathedral” is not genuinely Scottish in origin.

The composition was actually created by two German musicians, Ulrich Roever and Michael Korb, in the 1980s. It gained popularity as a bagpipe tune and has been performed by various Scottish pipe bands and military bands. The melody and arrangement evoke a sense of Scottish musical traditions and are often heard at Scottish-themed events, including Highland games and military ceremonies.

Critics argue that because the composers are German and the composition was not created within the traditional Scottish musical framework, it does not qualify as an authentic Scottish piece. They contend that “Highland Cathedral” lacks the historical and cultural context typically associated with traditional Scottish music, which often has deep roots in Scottish folklore and history.

However, it’s important to note that the concept of musical authenticity can be subjective, and the definition of what constitutes “Scottish” music may vary among individuals. While “Highland Cathedral” may not have originated from traditional Scottish sources, it has undoubtedly become strongly associated with Scottish culture and is beloved by many as a representation of Scottish musical identity.

Ultimately, whether or not “Highland Cathedral” is considered genuinely Scottish is a matter of personal interpretation and cultural context.

At this point, I’m quite impressed! My essential argument, that Scottishness is a subjective concept, is right there. And it even named the composers – not bad, Chat Open AI!

Another researcher threw out a challenge: Why do some people say that the musical composition “Farewell to Stromness”, is not really Scottish? Now, this is a classical piece by Peter Maxwell Davies. (I played it as a voluntary before the service at church, as it happened!) I was curious to see what Chat Open AI would say. It didn’t exactly muddle things, but there was really no need to talk about traditional music, because this is not traditional!

The musical composition “Farewell to Stromness” is a piece written by the British composer Peter Maxwell Davies. It is part of a larger work called “The Yellow Cake Revue,” which Davies composed in 1980 as a protest against uranium mining in Orkney, Scotland.

While “Farewell to Stromness” was inspired by the Scottish town of Stromness and its local music traditions, some people argue that it is not a traditional Scottish composition. The main reason for this view is that the piece does not adhere to the typical structure and style of Scottish folk music. Traditional Scottish music often features specific rhythmic patterns, melodic ornaments, and instrumental arrangements that are characteristic of the genre.

“Farewell to Stromness,” on the other hand, is a contemporary classical composition that incorporates elements of folk music. It is written for solo piano and has a more modern harmonic language and structure. The piece is often performed by classical pianists and is appreciated for its lyrical and reflective qualities.

While it may not fit the mold of traditional Scottish music, “Farewell to Stromness” is still associated with Scotland due to its thematic connection to the town of Stromness. It is important to note that music, like any art form, evolves and takes on new forms over time. The composition represents a creative interpretation and expression of the composer’s feelings and ideas, which is a common practice in music composition.

Well, I argued back just a little: This music is a classical piece, not a traditional folk tune. It is not a traditional tune from any country!

Chat GPT is so polite in its debates, as you can see:-

You are correct, “Farewell to Stromness” is a classical composition and not a traditional folk tune from any country. I apologize if my previous response was not clear on that point.

As I mentioned earlier, the piece was written by the British composer Peter Maxwell Davies as part of a larger work called “The Yellow Cake Revue.” It was composed in a contemporary classical style and is typically performed by classical pianists.

While the composition was inspired by the town of Stromness in Scotland, it does not adhere to the traditional structures and characteristics of Scottish folk music. It is a unique creation by the composer, and its style falls within the realm of contemporary classical music rather than traditional folk music.

Thank you for pointing out the distinction, and I apologize for any confusion caused by my previous response.

I don’t know if my correction would be incorporated into a subsequent answer, though, since Chat GPT is experimental and based on a snapshot of the internet at a certain point in time. Still, it’s an interesting thing to play with!

Image by Nikolaus Bader from Pixabay