The Ketelbey Fellow’s Last Latte

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Being a Fellow has been a sheer delight. I’ve met a lot of interesting people; heard interesting research papers; given a public paper (in the Laidlaw Music Centre) and a research paper for the Institute of Scottish Historical Research (ISHR); and availed myself of the invaluable resources of the University Library. As a result, I’ve been able to explore a couple of specific aspects of my research topic – resulting in facts and findings that I’ve incorporated into my book revisions. 

Desk cleared …

I said I would get on with monograph revisions, and I have done so – I’ve written a new Preface, and revised the Introduction and first four chapters. There are three more to go, but I’ve broken the back of it, because Chapters 2, 3 and 4 are the longest ones.

Those are tangible outputs. But for me personally, the Fellowship has also been an opportunity to embrace my research scholar identity a bit more, before I retire from the Whittaker Library in July 2024 and become solely a (part-time) researcher. The experience has in that sense given me a powerful sense of endorsement: that another insitution has embraced me as a scholar, and given me a chance to enjoy that status. For that I am very grateful indeed.

Farewell to St Katharine’s Lodge

Here for the final day, I’ve nipped into the Martyr’s Kirk Research Library to look at a couple more old classroom music texts. (I had a little argument with myself about the dates of a few titles advertised on the back of one particular text, but finally concluded that the date of a preface inside a book doesn’t mean that everything advertised on the back outside cover was available at that date. The copy in my hand could, after all, have been printed several years after the text itself came out, and the adverts might well have reflected the later date when the copy was printed, not the date when the text was published.)

I was looking for Scottish song texts, whether ‘folk songs’ or fin-de-siecle songs written for educational purposes. I must confess, I expected to find more than there actually were in these two sources. Still, with glee, I pounced upon ‘My heart’s in the Highlands’. 

Too soon. The compiler had set it to … a tune by Mozart! (Very curious, considering the patriotic attitudes of that particular compiler! Why ever did they think that was a good idea?)

I met a colleague and one of their friends for lunch, to discuss a research idea.

And (besides taking my library books back), I started a preliminary check of Chapter 4 of my book, which has grown a little during its revisions.

I don’t want to leave!

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!

Advance Notice! My latest Article is nigh!

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Soon, very soon, all will be revealed! It’s been quite a quiet year, as far as publications go. Very quiet. But I have had one article and two chapters waiting at their publishers, and this weekend will at least see the article published in History Scotland. Featured on the cover, too.

Hooray!

Image by Belinda Cave from Pixabay

Unexpected Blessings

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

‘I was talking’, said a colleague, ‘to someone who found a stash of an elderly relative’s music ….’

Now, you’ve possibly picked up on my mixed feelings about donations. Grateful, curious, but also sometimes experiencing a sinking feeling when I realise that a recently donated bagful of music really can’t be added to the library stock. We welcome music if it’s historically important, or a serviceable copy of core repertoire. However, the bottom line is that we want our musicians to use up-to-date or at least respectable standard editions, and a lot of old music is neither historically important nor serviceable core repertoire.

So today, I cautiously asked what kind of music it was?

Sol-Fa.

Postcard from eBay – school and date unidentified!

How often have I sighed at that word? Our students don’t use old Sol-Fa notation. It fell out of use by the mid-1960s, and ‘modern’ or avant-garde classical music never made it into Sol-Fa; the system doesn’t lend itself to harmonically and rhythmically more adventurous music. But today was different, because my own research has meant my spending quite a bit of time finding out more about the use of Sol-Fa in elementary music education. And to cut a long story short, I am very much looking forward to seeing this music. I now know what I should be looking out for, from the perspective of ‘my’ Scottish music publishers. A few tantalising snaps of this donation have really whetted my scholarly appetite. What will I find? How will it augment what I already know?

I can’t wait!

If you find Granny’s old Sol-Fa music in the attic, do give it more than a passing glance. See what the music is. See who published it, and where. (Scotland? England? Somewhere else?) Was it for children? Adults? A male-voice or ladies’ choir? Church? A municipal choir? A school or college? Is there a date on it? (You’ll be lucky! But you never know.) Is it part of a series?

What at first sight looks humdrum, mundane, and unusable can sometimes prove to be a fascinating piece of a musical history jigsaw-puzzle. And strangely enough, you don’t actually have to sing from it, to learn more of that history – a close inspection tells so much.

Generous to a Fault! Referencing Advice

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

It was necessary! So I took to the library blog and wrote this …

‘But I don’t want to use Harvard Referencing!’
Today’s library blog post!

Thoughts on Sharing and Generosity

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

I woke at 4 am again today. Could I get back to sleep? No.  As I rode into town on the bus,  I reflected that many of my wakeful thoughts had revolved around scholarly sharing. My mind seemed to bring out a series of issues, examining them one by one.

Tell me Everything

The breathless, ‘Tell me all you know’? Flattering, endearing, and with a piquant irony, considering one of our academic colleagues asked, more than two decades ago, ‘what does a librarian want with a PhD, anyway?’  Indeed, it was around that time that I overheard two graduate librarians opining that librarians don’t actually need degrees at all.  Another academic told a colleague that they were ‘only a librarian.’ (Postscript. That librarian subsequently went on getting postgraduate qualifications too!)

So it’s nice that, as the postdoctoral librarian approaches retirement, she is acknowledged to be possessed of Useful Knowledge. Even if it’s scholarly knowledge, which now sits in books on the library shelves. 

Quote (Unattributed)

Then my thoughts turned to the individuals whom I  would characterise as academic vacuum cleaners, noting your pearls of wisdom and later quoting them, unattributed. I know it’s good to share, but it leaves a bitter taste when your sharing is taken advantage of, whether it’s scholarly research or professional assistance.  On the other hand, if we acknowledge help given, it reflects well on both the sharer and the sharee! 

The problem is that I’m a librarian AND a scholar. And as librarians, we’re accustomed to sharing. I sometimes find it hard to decide where a line has been crossed.

I Can’t. Please Can You …?

Similarly, we librarians share our expertise about referencing, but there’s perhaps a subtle difference between our, ‘this is how you reference’ advice, which I gladly and willingly do all the time – and, ‘can you sort my references?’  As a scholar, I don’t ghost-write articles for publication.  Should I, as a librarian, ghost-format references?  Would I be colluding in giving the impression that the author has done a superb job with all that technical detail?! Or do other librarians do this without a qualm? I just don’t know what’s the norm here.

This is Not a Question, But

There are also times when sharing is not so good, though.  An interrupted talk where anecdotes are shared, uninvited, whilst you’re in mid-flow.  Or ‘Questions’ afterwards, that are not questions so much as demonstrations of knowledge. 

Worth a Try!

And best of all, requests for sharing that simply overstep the mark!  Now you’re wondering what I mean, aren’t you?!  Well, you won’t believe this one.

I was expecting a research question, in one particular email that I received a while ago.  But that wasn’t what was being requested, on this occasion.

‘You have a sewing machine, don’t you?  Can you show me how to sew curtains?’ 

[Meaning, ‘Can you sew them for me …?’]

Clker-Free-Vector Images from Pixabay

The Doctor doesn’t have time to sew other scholars’ curtains. Helpful, I am, but not a mug!

Music Subscribers: a database by Simon Fleming and Martin Perkins

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

https://musicsubscribers.co.uk/

This is the very detailed and useful database compiled by Simon Fleming and Martin Perkins for their subscribers project. You can find out more about it on their extensive information pages. 

I had early access to the database for my chapter on subscriptions to Scottish fiddle books.  (Chapter 10: ‘Strathspeys, Reels, and Instrumental Airs: A National Product’, as I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. )

NB ‘The dataset is the intellectual copyright of Simon D. I. Fleming and Martin Perkins.’ 

Simon D. I. Fleming and Martin Perkins (eds.) Music by Subscription: Composers and their Networks in the British Music-Publishing Trade, 1676–1820. Oxford, Routledge, 2022. 

NB. There’s currently (26 November 2023) a Black Friday deal on the book!

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

After their Moment of Glory, the Books Slept …

Posted on by Dr Karen E McAulay

Well, the talk seems to have gone well, and again, I found a very responsive audience. After being taken out for a delicious dinner, I headed for Dundee, which was the only way I was going to be at work on time in the morning.

Hotel room obligingly had low lighting and glass topped table, illuminating Wee Davie!

Another time, I need to clarify, for anyone not familiar with Tonic Sol-Fa, that it was devised for singers, not instrumentalists.

If you played an instrument, you learned off standard staff notation or by ear – with or without an instructor. In late Victorian times, after the 1870 and 1872 Education Acts, it stands to reason that more children would have learnt sight-singing by Sol-Fa, than learnt an instrument. Children whose parents could pay, might have had private instrumental lessons. Some might have had opportunities to join a band, learn from someone known to them, or pick up a fiddle (for example), but I still maintain that the majority of children were more likely to have encountered Sol-Fa.

As to social mobility … I’m not entirely sure whether it was easier or harder to fight your way up the ladder in those days. I’d need to ask a social historian of that era. I can only comment on the few instances that I’ve observed: ‘my’ music publishers certainly seemed to do well for themselves.

So, here I sit on a train back to Glasgow. Like Cinderella, my carriage will change back to a pumpkin, and my garb back to rags, if I’m not a librarian behind my desk by nine o’clock!