Keith Dickson
The High Road to Linton
October 1999 marks milestone in the achievements of the Keith Dickson Accordion Orchestra with the release of their debut album “Mist in the Glen” on the Shielburn Associates label. Formed in 1987 the Orchestra consists of young musicians from throughout the south of Scotland including the Lothians, Dumfries-shire and the numerous villages in my own part of Lanarkshire who congregate at Symington Hall on a Sunday afternoon for Orchestra practice.
The Orchestra (later renamed KODA) is backed by a strong and enthusiastic Parents Committee with much of the work falling on the shoulders of present Secretary, Hazel Orr from Hyndfordbridge near Lanark and Treasurer Jean Carswell from Symington. Their fund raising and organising activities enabled the Orchestra to make Town Twinning visits to Germany in 1997 and France in the current year as well as more regular outings like the annual trip to Scarborough in May for the UK Championships.
The Orchestra (later renamed KODA) is backed by a strong and enthusiastic Parents Committee with much of the work falling on the shoulders of present Secretary, Hazel Orr from Hyndfordbridge near Lanark and Treasurer Jean Carswell from Symington. Their fund raising and organising activities enabled the Orchestra to make Town Twinning visits to Germany in 1997 and France in the current year as well as more regular outings like the annual trip to Scarborough in May for the UK Championships.
As an observer of Keith’s pupils in action at both competition and club it’s obvious that he moulds the choice of music to suit the pupil and the adjudicator or the audience, whichever is the case. A late starter himself on the competition stage no-one understands better the need to start early and let the pupil grow accustomed to the pressure which is inevitably part of any serious competition. Only if nervousness is kept in check will the competitor be able to concentrate on the playing and expression of the piece.
That he shares with many of his fellow teachers but it’s in the allied field of entertainment that, in my opinion, he leaves many of them on the starting blocks. Nowhere was Keith’s “clued up” approach more apparent than in the grandly named United Kingdom Accordion Showband Championship at the UK Championships held in Scarborough in May of this year. Keith’s group were there as defending Champions and unfortunately there was only one other entry. They adopted a fairly conventional approach with a vocalist fronting the first number in their “Queen” medley but unfortunately he retired to his seat thereafter leaving the remained of the performance as something of an anticlimax. The performance received the polite applause reserved for competitions (or uninspiring performances).
Enter the KODA Showband. The M.C. announces the programme, all traditional Scottish and Irish tunes and the audience settle back in their seats – but not for long. Diminutive fiddle player Fiona Johnston from Currie takes centre stage an we’re into Cutting Bracken, fiddle leading, twelve accordions, three keyboards and a full drum kit backing. Loud applause. Next it’s Emily Smith from Gatelawbridge near Thornhill, one of Keith’s accordion pupils, but today fulfilling her other role as vocalist with a wonderfully evocative rendition of “Wild Mountain Thyme”. Extremely loud applause. And to finish, what else but the pipes, in the capable hands of young Gavin Maxwell from Dumfries, with a set of pipe jigs in a rousing “Celtic Rock” style. Deafening applause. So not much doubt there then – these people have been well and truly entertained.
In days of old accordion orchestras existed by virtue of the Post Office. The reason – well it went like this. You posted off a cheque with your ‘order’ to an address in London and they posted the ‘scores’ for the requested piece back up to you. Easy really – then all you had to do was spend a few months (or years) grinding your way through a German’s interpretation of a Rumanian (or whatever) classic. Keith has modified this ‘traditional’ approach by removing the cheque, the Post Office and the grinding. He orchestrates good music, mostly Scottish and Irish, in such a way that everyone enjoys playing it and, equally as important, listening to it.
THE MAN HIMSELF
Keith started the accordion at the age of 8 on a 72 bass Hohner Arietta under the guiding hand of dad, Jimmy. The family home at Medwynbank is slightly off the beaten track (first time visitors are advised to hire a Sherpa Guide at the junction with the A702) and both distance and financial constraints ruled out tuition at either of the ‘local’ teachers in those days at Wishaw or Edinburgh. Undeterred however Keith taught himself by listening to records and reading every piece of music he could lay his hands on.
Almost six years were to elapse before an opportunity for tuition presented itself in the form of Alistair Gillespie who had established a teaching centre in Biggar. Keith attended lessons there for three years, participating in the Gillespie Accordion Orchestra and latterly even deputising on occasions for Alistair in a teaching role. From there he moved in 1984 to another newcomer to the Scottish teaching scene Paul Capaldi, who began teaching for Clinkscales in Melrose. Around then Keith and another name that would shortly become well known, Peter Wood from Crawfordjohn, joined Abington based Joe Taylor’s band as lead and second accordionists.
It was from Alistair and Paul that Keith found the answers to all the questions which had been building up over the previous years. Chords had always fascinated him and now that the theory was being properly explained and practical exercises improved his fingering there was no holding him. He adapted easily to the keyboard and my first memories of Keith are as our Kirk organist at Carmichael (usually turning up on his moped with three minutes to spare).I recall that even at that stage he had the ability to modulate at the end of the first verse from the written key into something he gauged the congregation could handle by transposing the music in his head.
But strange as it may seem now, Keith had no thoughts of teaching music at this stage. Brought up with the various activities – farming, sawmilling and joinery – at Medwynbank he envisaged life as a stockman or a tractorman. Accordingly he attended Oatridge Agricultural College near Broxburn from 1982-85 coming out with a Certificate in Agriculture and receiving an award for Best Part-Time Student in 1983-84.
All that was soon to change however. Progressing rapidly on both accordion and keyboard, Keith himself began modest part-time teaching under the Clinkscale umbrella in 1986 with a dozen pupils. It was a meeting that year with Alex MacArthur, recently moved at that time from Biggar to Thornhill, which changed all that. Alex said there was a desperate need for a good teacher in the Dumfries area and promised him a further dozen pupils immediately. Keith began a Saturday studio, initially at Closeburn Primary School and the die was cast.
The following year he took his LBCA (Performers) Diploma (he always intended to follow up with the ABCA (Teachers) Diploma but never got round to it), former his own Accordion Orchestra, did his first Guest Spot at Biggar in February of that year and led a band to accompany the New Scotland Country Dancers on a three week trip of Norway where, if I recall correctly, amongst many other highlights we had the privilege of actually seeing the “midnight sun” through a gap in the clouds when we visited the North Cape.
Soon Keith’s new role as teacher was totally eclipsing his other activities at Medwynbank. In 1988 he entered the broadcasting scene for the first time as second box player on Peter Wood’s second broadcast from Studio 2 in Glasgow. The following year he joined the Alan Gardiner SDB, in that same role, and remain there until the present day. His first broadcast with Alan was from Kirkcudbright in 1990 and they have averaged more than one a year since together with 3 CDs over that period.
Away from the broadcast scene Keith has assisted on keyboard or second box with a variety of bands over the years, Gary Donaldson and Gordon Shand in particular. He followed Peter Wood into the pianist’s seat with the Iain MacPhail SDB in 1996 but relinquished that to become keyboard player with “Duke Box” – Scotland’s Premier Function Band (“or so the website says” jokes Keith). Fronted by ex-Shetlander Stuart Bentley on vocals, guitar or accordion. Keith’s fellow band members are Ian MacDonald on bass guitar and vocals and Max Ketchin on drums.
So all-in-all a very full agenda but what of Keith’s family history. As we stand poised to enter the 21st century Keith’s response to that tried and tested question “was there music in the family” can take us back with some certainly not just to the end of the 19th century but to the start of the 18th!
PAST TIMES
Circa 1705 – John Dickson was born somewhere in East Lothian. In time he became gardener at Dumcrieff House near Moffat and still later, around 1750, continued that role for Sir George Clark at Penicuik House. That name will be familiar to musicians since there is a Strathspey entitles “Sir George Clark of Pennycuik” by Nathanial Gow which is used as the original for the dance “Up in the Air” from Book 20 of the RSCDS. However, something untoward happened by the time of John’s death because he is reputed to lie buried under the doorstep of Penicuik Kirk – a punishment, Keith assumes, to ensure that his soul could never rest so long as it was regularly disturbed by God fearing folk entering the kirk. John Dickson was Keith’s great great great great great grandfather.
Circa 1735 – John’s sons, Robert and James, would be born in the 1730s. At the time of the 1745 Rebellion, Robert was captured by the Highlanders who compelled him to show them the way to Dumcrieff House. However he was able to escape from his captors and hid in the woods until the rebels marched off – taking his shoes with them! They accompanied their father in his move to Penicuik. It was while they were there that General Douglas, then the laird of lands at what was then called Garlefoot, Dolphinton, approached them about establishing and running a wool, spinning, weaving and carding mill there. This they did, but James eventually returned to Moffat, while Robert remained, married Janet Alexander and bought the mill at what became known, somewhere along the line, as Garvaldfoot.
1765 – Per the Parish records eight children were born to Robert and Janet starting with Henry (b1765), John (b 1767), Agnes (b. 1769), George (1771 – 1853), Mary (1774 – 1802), Elizabeth (b 1778), Robert (1781 – 1885) and ending with Keith’s great great great grandfather Adam, born in 1787. In 1822 John and Adam negotiated a lease for land half a mile up the road from Garvldfoot on the banks of the Medwyn. The Lease stated “To John and Adam Dickson, Garvaldfoot 16/11/1822. Sir C.N. Lockhart has accepted of your offer for the bit of ground for Mill at Easton. The lease runs for 45 years from the present time but if you put down a real substantial set of houses we shall extend it 5 years longer”. Other records show that George managed the carding mill, John the dyeing business, Henry the land and the kye and Adam was the millwright. Henry and John wore long blue swallowtail coats with brass buttons, knee breeches and high hats.
1823 – Adam had six of a family, namely Robert (b 1823), Agnes (b 1825), James (1827 – 1908), George (b 1829), John (b 1831) and Adam (b 1836). By this time Medwynbank was in full swing with the power from the mill being used by joiners and millcrights by day and by a nightshift of weavers. This industry was mirroring much larger developments in water power in nearby New Lanark at this time. No doubt there had been musicians in earlier generations but it is here that we find the first record of musicians in the family. Keith’s great great grandfather James and his brother John were sufficiently proficient fiddlers to cause local bards to record their appreciation in rhyme with “Fiddler by the Fireside” dedicated to James and “Epistle to Jock Dickson” for John. Family tradition also has it that it was one or the other of the brothers who composed the reel “Ower the Garle” or as it later became known “The High Road to Linton”. The Garle was the back road from Medwynbank to West Linton which followed the natural contours of the land unlike the relatively flat Drove Road in the valley bottom below. It’s unlikely that the brothers read music hence there other compositions were probably in time lost. Jamie lived into his eighty-first year and also merited a mention in the “Caledonian” magazine of 1836.
1865 – James and Jane Dickson also had six of a family. Keith’s great grandfather Adam was the first, born in 1865, followed by Isabel, Agnes, Jean, George and James. The first car hit the roads of the UK in 1885 and Adam built himself one in the early years of the new century which was registered as V 512. Another family photograph, from about 1915, shows a family outing in a more sophisticated production vehicle registered V 971. The Dicksons must have been amongst Lanarkshire’s earliest users of “horseless carriages”. These Registration Numbers obviously precede the better known Lanarkshire County numbers which were prefixed VA or VD.
1894 – Adam and Hannah Dickson had three of a family. Grandfather James, born in 1894, with Alice in 1896 and William in 1898. The family must have enjoyed a period of relative affluence since the family members, house and cars were recorded on quite a number of early photographs whose negatives were in the form of glass slides.
1930 – James and Catherine Dickson’s firstborn was Keith’s dad James in 1930, with Uncle Rob in 1934 and Aunt Lillias in 1936. Jimmy Dickson played the piano accordion and Uncle Rob the drums with the “Olympics” at local dances in the village halls of Lanarkshire, Peebles-shire and the Lothians. Sadly Jimmy died prematurely in 1995, in all likelihood taking with him many stories of the family’s past.
1965 – Keith appeared on the scene with brother Gordon following in 1968. Gordon dabbled briefly with the fiddle but continues in the family tradition as a joiner whole Keith looks after the sheep on Medwynbank’s 50 acres.
1995 – Keith and Sheena, daughter of Biggar Accordion and Fiddle Club Chairman John Anderson, bring the next generation into the world, the sixth to be raised at Medwynbank. Daughter Hannah born in 1995 and twins James and Emma in 1997.
And that, as they say, is the story so far. The snippets of information from the early days are recorded on an old manuscript which details the early part of the Dickson family tree which has been passed down through the family. As for Dumfrieff House, Tom and Margaret Porteous tell me that it was later owned by “Tar” McAdam, of road surfacing fame, and that he lies buried in the kirkyard in the middle of Moffat.
So I’ll close by wishing the Keith Dickson Accordion Orchestra every success with “Mist in the Glen”. Having heard the Orchestra live, as well as the CD, I can wholeheartedly endorse the comments in our CD Review. Thanks to Keith for his time and Tam Ward and Biggar Museum Trust for providing many of the photographs which accompany this article from the glass slides. To Keith, Sheena and family and everyone involved with the “Keith Dickson School of Music” every good wish for the future.
A Pair of Fiddlers of the Real Old School
James Dickson of Medwynbank and Donald McDonald of Ballackriochk by E.G. Robins
Of recent years mechanical music has to a great extent ousted the ‘hand-made’ variety and amateur performers, who can play passably on piano or violin, are much rarer than they were previous to the Great War of 1914.
In many respects this fact is to be deplored, although it must be admitted that there were too many ‘would be’ musicians in the days when all children were made to ‘study music’. Nevertheless, one misses the emotion and the ‘fire’ that so many ‘rustic masters’ of former days managed to impart to their playing and the enthusiasm with which they inspired their hearers, as they rattled off a lengthy programme of reels, strathspeys and country dance music. Few indeed can do so today.
Two men, whom I will remember, possessed this power and I shall try to bring them to your minds in these few brief notes. These were James Dickson, reckoned to be one of the best reel players of his day in Southern Scotland and Donald McDonald, a spirited player, who resided in Badenoch, Inverness-shire.
James Dickson (Born 1827 – Died 1908)
Picture to yourselves a substantially-built sandstone house standing on the bank of a small river in an isolated part of the Country of Lanark. In its kitchen, low-raftered but cosy, a cheery fire is burning on a wide, white stone hearth and the reflection of its flame is caught by the rows of china plates and jugs that adorn a number of shelves on the dark papered walls. A parritch-pat bubbles on the ‘swey’ and some empty dishes lie on the table, for supper is just over, and the remains have not yet been cleared away.
The air is thick with the reek of peat and tobacco, and, in a high-backed ‘grandfather’ chair sits an old man, enjoying his evening pipe. He is fresh complexioned, grey bearded, and has a mop of grizzled, wiry hair. He has humourous blue eyes and is rather short of stature and square of build, facts accentuated by the long, loose-fitting jacket he usually affects, with buttons on the ‘tails’. Often, too, he wears his cap and ‘cravat’ indoors, as well as out!
This old man is James Dickson, millwright and small farmer, of Medwynbank, whose property lies in and around a lovely glen, through which flows the River Medwyn. Grouped around the ‘couthie’ dwellinghouse are the sawmill, workshops and farm buildings. From the glen the land rises to the slopes of the ‘outlying spurs’ of the Pentland Hills – bleak, poor farmland where Nature is niggardly with her crops to even the most industrious. James works as hard as anybody in the field or in the ‘shop’ but comes in-by for his supper and his relaxations – a piper, a paper and sometimes ‘a tune’.
At present he is saying with a smile – (for some neoghbours have by this time dropped in) – “Dod, man, Doctor! I’m no’ in guid trim for playin’. I’ve hardly had the fiddle doun the year but I’ll see what I can dae”.
Lovingly he takes down his instrument from a nail above his head and begins to tune it. He gives a few flourishes across the strings. The bow needs some ‘rosit’ but at last he is ready to begin.
One of the listeners, himself a fiddler, says “Man, Jamie, give us ‘Tullimet’ and ‘Captain Keeler’”.
So old Jamie takes his fiddle under his bristly beard, turns his massive head to one side, as is his habit, and begin his programme. Gradually he warms to his work and his hobnailed boot beats time on the wooden floor as his bow sweeps to and fro across the strings. What a ‘bow hand’ he has and his horny fingers fairly skip across the finger-board!
“Grand, man, grand” echoes through the kitchen. Other feet mark time and the whole place seems suddenly to become intensely alive. Tune succeeds tune and some of the younger folk present begin to dance. Oh, it is all splendid! Sometimes James intersperses his quick music with a slow air or an old fashioned song.
But alas all good things have an end and James lays down his bow, for the hour is very late. Regretfully we say goodnight and leave him and his guid-wife, Jean, to their well earned rest.
Tunes in plenty did we pick up from Jamie’s playing, some of them airs which were never written down and certainly never published.
Oftentimes we say in sorry “Oh, if we could have Jamie back to show how the ‘Auld Springs’ should be played!”
But this is a vain wish, for both Jamie and his good looking and sonsy wife (whose custom it was to knit thick woolen socks whilst proudly listening to her husband’s music and noting with approval its effects on the listeners) have gone to the far country where music and happiness go hand-in-hand and where all earthly trials and sorrows are forgotten.
Nevertheless, they shall be enshrined in our hearts as vivid memories as long as life shall last.
The Fiddler by the Fireside
Auld Jamie Dickson
By Mrs Robbins (Edinburgh) Bessie Dickson, Eldest Daughter of James Dickson
Contented by the ingle neuk Auld James smokes his pipe,
He’s makin’ plans aboot the hairst, his corns a’maist ripe,
“Aweel !” he lays his cutty doon an’ glances at the nock,
“I think I’ll hae a wee bit tune, afore its time to lock”.
An’ frae a nail aboon his heid he taks his fiddle doon,
An’ plunks the strings an’ cocks his ear tae mak’ sure she’s in tune, He snuggles her aneath his chin an’ gies the pegs a screw,
Syne draws his bow – it’s no’ quite richt, he needs some rosit noo!
He starts off in a slow strathspey, syne follows in a reel,
He’s warming up, he’ll play straight on the ains he lou’s sae weel,
But deed he’s never lang alane for neebors come inby,
To harken to the fiddles vice an’ whiles a dance tae try.
It’s “Jamie gie us Tullymet, Pease Strae or Isle o’ Skye”,
An’ later Jamie changes ower to ‘Comin thro’ the Rye’,
An’ whiles he gies a wee bit sang sae pawky an’ sae crouse,
Like ‘Big Broom Besoms’, ‘Canny Frien!’ an ‘My Ain Dear Auld Hoose’.
Syne Jean, his wife, says “See the time, man ye sud be in bed”,
But Jamie plays anither reel an’ a’ the fowks are gled,
But ilka pleasure has a end an Jamie’s dune rich’ weel,
“Guid nicht ma friens an’ come back sune tae hear anither reel”.
Epistle to Jock Dickson
by Dick
Dear Jock, I humbly beg and pray, you’ll pardon me for this delay,
When o’ my reason half bereft, an’ just twa nichts afore you left,
After a very merry week, in this ancient city famed for reek,
I rashly vowed, if given time, t’immortalise your name in rhyme,
Though vows are aft ower lightly spoken, ower rashly made, ower quickly broken,
Still, if it be his Godship’s will, my promise I will yet fulfill.
But, noo that I am fairly startit, I feel a wee thocht chicken-heartit,
Lest, doubtin’ what some passage means, you show it to your learned freens,
(Critics abound in in ilka toun, e.g. the Smith or Jamie Broon),
Wha, without judgement, wit or conscience, might still pronounce my rhyme damned nonsense,
An’ straightway prove’t to be the vain, abortion o’ some moon struck brain,
But, Lord, Jock, tongues were meant to wag, auld nature won’t supply a gag.
An’ to her shame she aft refrains, frae drawin’ on her stock o’ brains,
Leaving some hears deficient quite, of that most useful requisite,
Why this should be I canna tell, perhaps she disna ken hersel’,
But trustin’ that some early day, she’ll see the error o’ her way,
I leave it to her ain discretion, to rectift this sad omission,
A word, noo, Jocj ‘tween you an’ me, last time we met we had a spree.
An’, if again we do forgather, I hope an’ trust we’ll hae anither,
Though a’ the priests in sable coats, frae Dolphinton tae John o’ Groats,
Should raise their voice in loud accord, an’ damn the baith o’ swi’ ae word,
Sae merrily the whaup we’ll quaff, we’ll crack oor jokes, an’ syne we’ll laugh,
We’ll dance an’ hooch, we’ll rant an’ sing, till Kippie Hill wi’ echoes ring,
An’ hoolets at the dead o’ nicht, shall, tremblin’, haud their breath wi’ fright.
Then notes o’ music, sweet an’ clear, shall soothe the enchanted listener’s ear,
Guid auld Scotch music, best o’ ony, it’s measure aye rins smooth an’ bonny,
But, played wi’ Dickson’s skill an’ art, it never fails tae touch the heart,
Scotch sangs an’ tunes by men o’ taste, are ranked among the very best,
Although some modern Scots, I fear, hae lost theit taste as weel’s their ear,
Neglictin’ mony a guid auld sang, for senseless trash in Cockney slang.
Though worthy o’ a better fate, Rab’s sangs are noo ‘not up to date’,
They dina suit the modern taste, outlandish jargon pleases best,
Imported frae some foreign clime, an’ lost to music, sense an’ rhyme,
There’s German bands in ilka street, dispensin’ stuff that’s far frae sweet,
An’ organ grinders deave oor lugs, while wily dames hand round their jugs,
Then bow, an’ grin, an’ wink their ee, tae catch the canny Scots bawbee.
But should a note o’ foreign gear, e’er frae your fiddle reach my ear,
Though but ae demi-semi-quaver, that day oor freenship ends forever,
When winter wi’ his snaw an’ frost, has lifted to some other coast,
An’ pearly dews an’ vernal showers, revive the little droopin’ flowers,
When fields assume their coat o’ green, an’ scented breezes fan the scene.
When birdies sing amang the broughs, an’ lambkins bleat upon the knows,
Then will I leave Auld Reekie’s bounds, her never-endin’ deafenin’ sounds,
Her mingled dirt an’ dignity, an’ spend ae day alang wi’ thee,
Should Heaven decree’t to be my last, I widna wish it better passed,
Jock, I might say a hantle mair, an’ no’ exhaust my rhymin’ ware,
But here, it is my firm conviction, I should pronounce the benediction.
Though godly priests charge Godly fee, I send you here my blessin’ free,
If I’m a judge o’ Holy wares, I think my ain’s as guid as theirs,
An’ what to Kirk folk may seem queer, I claim that my ane is sincere,
May Heaven wi’ choicest blessings bless thee, nor care nor sorrow e’er oppress thee,
Lang may ye play the ‘Laird o’ Grant’, ‘Over the Garle’ an ‘Maxwell’s Rant’,
An’ when that ancient ruffian Death, comes wi’ his scythe to stop your breath,
Just meet him wi’ a steady eye, an’ treat him to a bauld Strathspey,
An’ when in Linton’s auld kirkyard, ye’re laid beneath the grassy sward,
Soun’ may the King o’ Fiddlers sleep, while bairns’ bairns in sorrow weep.
Box and Fiddle
October 1999
That he shares with many of his fellow teachers but it’s in the allied field of entertainment that, in my opinion, he leaves many of them on the starting blocks. Nowhere was Keith’s “clued up” approach more apparent than in the grandly named United Kingdom Accordion Showband Championship at the UK Championships held in Scarborough in May of this year. Keith’s group were there as defending Champions and unfortunately there was only one other entry. They adopted a fairly conventional approach with a vocalist fronting the first number in their “Queen” medley but unfortunately he retired to his seat thereafter leaving the remained of the performance as something of an anticlimax. The performance received the polite applause reserved for competitions (or uninspiring performances).
Enter the KODA Showband. The M.C. announces the programme, all traditional Scottish and Irish tunes and the audience settle back in their seats – but not for long. Diminutive fiddle player Fiona Johnston from Currie takes centre stage an we’re into Cutting Bracken, fiddle leading, twelve accordions, three keyboards and a full drum kit backing. Loud applause. Next it’s Emily Smith from Gatelawbridge near Thornhill, one of Keith’s accordion pupils, but today fulfilling her other role as vocalist with a wonderfully evocative rendition of “Wild Mountain Thyme”. Extremely loud applause. And to finish, what else but the pipes, in the capable hands of young Gavin Maxwell from Dumfries, with a set of pipe jigs in a rousing “Celtic Rock” style. Deafening applause. So not much doubt there then – these people have been well and truly entertained.
In days of old accordion orchestras existed by virtue of the Post Office. The reason – well it went like this. You posted off a cheque with your ‘order’ to an address in London and they posted the ‘scores’ for the requested piece back up to you. Easy really – then all you had to do was spend a few months (or years) grinding your way through a German’s interpretation of a Rumanian (or whatever) classic. Keith has modified this ‘traditional’ approach by removing the cheque, the Post Office and the grinding. He orchestrates good music, mostly Scottish and Irish, in such a way that everyone enjoys playing it and, equally as important, listening to it.
THE MAN HIMSELF
Keith started the accordion at the age of 8 on a 72 bass Hohner Arietta under the guiding hand of dad, Jimmy. The family home at Medwynbank is slightly off the beaten track (first time visitors are advised to hire a Sherpa Guide at the junction with the A702) and both distance and financial constraints ruled out tuition at either of the ‘local’ teachers in those days at Wishaw or Edinburgh. Undeterred however Keith taught himself by listening to records and reading every piece of music he could lay his hands on.
Almost six years were to elapse before an opportunity for tuition presented itself in the form of Alistair Gillespie who had established a teaching centre in Biggar. Keith attended lessons there for three years, participating in the Gillespie Accordion Orchestra and latterly even deputising on occasions for Alistair in a teaching role. From there he moved in 1984 to another newcomer to the Scottish teaching scene Paul Capaldi, who began teaching for Clinkscales in Melrose. Around then Keith and another name that would shortly become well known, Peter Wood from Crawfordjohn, joined Abington based Joe Taylor’s band as lead and second accordionists.
It was from Alistair and Paul that Keith found the answers to all the questions which had been building up over the previous years. Chords had always fascinated him and now that the theory was being properly explained and practical exercises improved his fingering there was no holding him. He adapted easily to the keyboard and my first memories of Keith are as our Kirk organist at Carmichael (usually turning up on his moped with three minutes to spare).I recall that even at that stage he had the ability to modulate at the end of the first verse from the written key into something he gauged the congregation could handle by transposing the music in his head.
But strange as it may seem now, Keith had no thoughts of teaching music at this stage. Brought up with the various activities – farming, sawmilling and joinery – at Medwynbank he envisaged life as a stockman or a tractorman. Accordingly he attended Oatridge Agricultural College near Broxburn from 1982-85 coming out with a Certificate in Agriculture and receiving an award for Best Part-Time Student in 1983-84.
All that was soon to change however. Progressing rapidly on both accordion and keyboard, Keith himself began modest part-time teaching under the Clinkscale umbrella in 1986 with a dozen pupils. It was a meeting that year with Alex MacArthur, recently moved at that time from Biggar to Thornhill, which changed all that. Alex said there was a desperate need for a good teacher in the Dumfries area and promised him a further dozen pupils immediately. Keith began a Saturday studio, initially at Closeburn Primary School and the die was cast.
The following year he took his LBCA (Performers) Diploma (he always intended to follow up with the ABCA (Teachers) Diploma but never got round to it), former his own Accordion Orchestra, did his first Guest Spot at Biggar in February of that year and led a band to accompany the New Scotland Country Dancers on a three week trip of Norway where, if I recall correctly, amongst many other highlights we had the privilege of actually seeing the “midnight sun” through a gap in the clouds when we visited the North Cape.
Soon Keith’s new role as teacher was totally eclipsing his other activities at Medwynbank. In 1988 he entered the broadcasting scene for the first time as second box player on Peter Wood’s second broadcast from Studio 2 in Glasgow. The following year he joined the Alan Gardiner SDB, in that same role, and remain there until the present day. His first broadcast with Alan was from Kirkcudbright in 1990 and they have averaged more than one a year since together with 3 CDs over that period.
Away from the broadcast scene Keith has assisted on keyboard or second box with a variety of bands over the years, Gary Donaldson and Gordon Shand in particular. He followed Peter Wood into the pianist’s seat with the Iain MacPhail SDB in 1996 but relinquished that to become keyboard player with “Duke Box” – Scotland’s Premier Function Band (“or so the website says” jokes Keith). Fronted by ex-Shetlander Stuart Bentley on vocals, guitar or accordion. Keith’s fellow band members are Ian MacDonald on bass guitar and vocals and Max Ketchin on drums.
So all-in-all a very full agenda but what of Keith’s family history. As we stand poised to enter the 21st century Keith’s response to that tried and tested question “was there music in the family” can take us back with some certainly not just to the end of the 19th century but to the start of the 18th!
PAST TIMES
Circa 1705 – John Dickson was born somewhere in East Lothian. In time he became gardener at Dumcrieff House near Moffat and still later, around 1750, continued that role for Sir George Clark at Penicuik House. That name will be familiar to musicians since there is a Strathspey entitles “Sir George Clark of Pennycuik” by Nathanial Gow which is used as the original for the dance “Up in the Air” from Book 20 of the RSCDS. However, something untoward happened by the time of John’s death because he is reputed to lie buried under the doorstep of Penicuik Kirk – a punishment, Keith assumes, to ensure that his soul could never rest so long as it was regularly disturbed by God fearing folk entering the kirk. John Dickson was Keith’s great great great great great grandfather.
Circa 1735 – John’s sons, Robert and James, would be born in the 1730s. At the time of the 1745 Rebellion, Robert was captured by the Highlanders who compelled him to show them the way to Dumcrieff House. However he was able to escape from his captors and hid in the woods until the rebels marched off – taking his shoes with them! They accompanied their father in his move to Penicuik. It was while they were there that General Douglas, then the laird of lands at what was then called Garlefoot, Dolphinton, approached them about establishing and running a wool, spinning, weaving and carding mill there. This they did, but James eventually returned to Moffat, while Robert remained, married Janet Alexander and bought the mill at what became known, somewhere along the line, as Garvaldfoot.
1765 – Per the Parish records eight children were born to Robert and Janet starting with Henry (b1765), John (b 1767), Agnes (b. 1769), George (1771 – 1853), Mary (1774 – 1802), Elizabeth (b 1778), Robert (1781 – 1885) and ending with Keith’s great great great grandfather Adam, born in 1787. In 1822 John and Adam negotiated a lease for land half a mile up the road from Garvldfoot on the banks of the Medwyn. The Lease stated “To John and Adam Dickson, Garvaldfoot 16/11/1822. Sir C.N. Lockhart has accepted of your offer for the bit of ground for Mill at Easton. The lease runs for 45 years from the present time but if you put down a real substantial set of houses we shall extend it 5 years longer”. Other records show that George managed the carding mill, John the dyeing business, Henry the land and the kye and Adam was the millwright. Henry and John wore long blue swallowtail coats with brass buttons, knee breeches and high hats.
1823 – Adam had six of a family, namely Robert (b 1823), Agnes (b 1825), James (1827 – 1908), George (b 1829), John (b 1831) and Adam (b 1836). By this time Medwynbank was in full swing with the power from the mill being used by joiners and millcrights by day and by a nightshift of weavers. This industry was mirroring much larger developments in water power in nearby New Lanark at this time. No doubt there had been musicians in earlier generations but it is here that we find the first record of musicians in the family. Keith’s great great grandfather James and his brother John were sufficiently proficient fiddlers to cause local bards to record their appreciation in rhyme with “Fiddler by the Fireside” dedicated to James and “Epistle to Jock Dickson” for John. Family tradition also has it that it was one or the other of the brothers who composed the reel “Ower the Garle” or as it later became known “The High Road to Linton”. The Garle was the back road from Medwynbank to West Linton which followed the natural contours of the land unlike the relatively flat Drove Road in the valley bottom below. It’s unlikely that the brothers read music hence there other compositions were probably in time lost. Jamie lived into his eighty-first year and also merited a mention in the “Caledonian” magazine of 1836.
1865 – James and Jane Dickson also had six of a family. Keith’s great grandfather Adam was the first, born in 1865, followed by Isabel, Agnes, Jean, George and James. The first car hit the roads of the UK in 1885 and Adam built himself one in the early years of the new century which was registered as V 512. Another family photograph, from about 1915, shows a family outing in a more sophisticated production vehicle registered V 971. The Dicksons must have been amongst Lanarkshire’s earliest users of “horseless carriages”. These Registration Numbers obviously precede the better known Lanarkshire County numbers which were prefixed VA or VD.
1894 – Adam and Hannah Dickson had three of a family. Grandfather James, born in 1894, with Alice in 1896 and William in 1898. The family must have enjoyed a period of relative affluence since the family members, house and cars were recorded on quite a number of early photographs whose negatives were in the form of glass slides.
1930 – James and Catherine Dickson’s firstborn was Keith’s dad James in 1930, with Uncle Rob in 1934 and Aunt Lillias in 1936. Jimmy Dickson played the piano accordion and Uncle Rob the drums with the “Olympics” at local dances in the village halls of Lanarkshire, Peebles-shire and the Lothians. Sadly Jimmy died prematurely in 1995, in all likelihood taking with him many stories of the family’s past.
1965 – Keith appeared on the scene with brother Gordon following in 1968. Gordon dabbled briefly with the fiddle but continues in the family tradition as a joiner whole Keith looks after the sheep on Medwynbank’s 50 acres.
1995 – Keith and Sheena, daughter of Biggar Accordion and Fiddle Club Chairman John Anderson, bring the next generation into the world, the sixth to be raised at Medwynbank. Daughter Hannah born in 1995 and twins James and Emma in 1997.
And that, as they say, is the story so far. The snippets of information from the early days are recorded on an old manuscript which details the early part of the Dickson family tree which has been passed down through the family. As for Dumfrieff House, Tom and Margaret Porteous tell me that it was later owned by “Tar” McAdam, of road surfacing fame, and that he lies buried in the kirkyard in the middle of Moffat.
So I’ll close by wishing the Keith Dickson Accordion Orchestra every success with “Mist in the Glen”. Having heard the Orchestra live, as well as the CD, I can wholeheartedly endorse the comments in our CD Review. Thanks to Keith for his time and Tam Ward and Biggar Museum Trust for providing many of the photographs which accompany this article from the glass slides. To Keith, Sheena and family and everyone involved with the “Keith Dickson School of Music” every good wish for the future.
A Pair of Fiddlers of the Real Old School
James Dickson of Medwynbank and Donald McDonald of Ballackriochk by E.G. Robins
Of recent years mechanical music has to a great extent ousted the ‘hand-made’ variety and amateur performers, who can play passably on piano or violin, are much rarer than they were previous to the Great War of 1914.
In many respects this fact is to be deplored, although it must be admitted that there were too many ‘would be’ musicians in the days when all children were made to ‘study music’. Nevertheless, one misses the emotion and the ‘fire’ that so many ‘rustic masters’ of former days managed to impart to their playing and the enthusiasm with which they inspired their hearers, as they rattled off a lengthy programme of reels, strathspeys and country dance music. Few indeed can do so today.
Two men, whom I will remember, possessed this power and I shall try to bring them to your minds in these few brief notes. These were James Dickson, reckoned to be one of the best reel players of his day in Southern Scotland and Donald McDonald, a spirited player, who resided in Badenoch, Inverness-shire.
James Dickson (Born 1827 – Died 1908)
Picture to yourselves a substantially-built sandstone house standing on the bank of a small river in an isolated part of the Country of Lanark. In its kitchen, low-raftered but cosy, a cheery fire is burning on a wide, white stone hearth and the reflection of its flame is caught by the rows of china plates and jugs that adorn a number of shelves on the dark papered walls. A parritch-pat bubbles on the ‘swey’ and some empty dishes lie on the table, for supper is just over, and the remains have not yet been cleared away.
The air is thick with the reek of peat and tobacco, and, in a high-backed ‘grandfather’ chair sits an old man, enjoying his evening pipe. He is fresh complexioned, grey bearded, and has a mop of grizzled, wiry hair. He has humourous blue eyes and is rather short of stature and square of build, facts accentuated by the long, loose-fitting jacket he usually affects, with buttons on the ‘tails’. Often, too, he wears his cap and ‘cravat’ indoors, as well as out!
This old man is James Dickson, millwright and small farmer, of Medwynbank, whose property lies in and around a lovely glen, through which flows the River Medwyn. Grouped around the ‘couthie’ dwellinghouse are the sawmill, workshops and farm buildings. From the glen the land rises to the slopes of the ‘outlying spurs’ of the Pentland Hills – bleak, poor farmland where Nature is niggardly with her crops to even the most industrious. James works as hard as anybody in the field or in the ‘shop’ but comes in-by for his supper and his relaxations – a piper, a paper and sometimes ‘a tune’.
At present he is saying with a smile – (for some neoghbours have by this time dropped in) – “Dod, man, Doctor! I’m no’ in guid trim for playin’. I’ve hardly had the fiddle doun the year but I’ll see what I can dae”.
Lovingly he takes down his instrument from a nail above his head and begins to tune it. He gives a few flourishes across the strings. The bow needs some ‘rosit’ but at last he is ready to begin.
One of the listeners, himself a fiddler, says “Man, Jamie, give us ‘Tullimet’ and ‘Captain Keeler’”.
So old Jamie takes his fiddle under his bristly beard, turns his massive head to one side, as is his habit, and begin his programme. Gradually he warms to his work and his hobnailed boot beats time on the wooden floor as his bow sweeps to and fro across the strings. What a ‘bow hand’ he has and his horny fingers fairly skip across the finger-board!
“Grand, man, grand” echoes through the kitchen. Other feet mark time and the whole place seems suddenly to become intensely alive. Tune succeeds tune and some of the younger folk present begin to dance. Oh, it is all splendid! Sometimes James intersperses his quick music with a slow air or an old fashioned song.
But alas all good things have an end and James lays down his bow, for the hour is very late. Regretfully we say goodnight and leave him and his guid-wife, Jean, to their well earned rest.
Tunes in plenty did we pick up from Jamie’s playing, some of them airs which were never written down and certainly never published.
Oftentimes we say in sorry “Oh, if we could have Jamie back to show how the ‘Auld Springs’ should be played!”
But this is a vain wish, for both Jamie and his good looking and sonsy wife (whose custom it was to knit thick woolen socks whilst proudly listening to her husband’s music and noting with approval its effects on the listeners) have gone to the far country where music and happiness go hand-in-hand and where all earthly trials and sorrows are forgotten.
Nevertheless, they shall be enshrined in our hearts as vivid memories as long as life shall last.
The Fiddler by the Fireside
Auld Jamie Dickson
By Mrs Robbins (Edinburgh) Bessie Dickson, Eldest Daughter of James Dickson
Contented by the ingle neuk Auld James smokes his pipe,
He’s makin’ plans aboot the hairst, his corns a’maist ripe,
“Aweel !” he lays his cutty doon an’ glances at the nock,
“I think I’ll hae a wee bit tune, afore its time to lock”.
An’ frae a nail aboon his heid he taks his fiddle doon,
An’ plunks the strings an’ cocks his ear tae mak’ sure she’s in tune, He snuggles her aneath his chin an’ gies the pegs a screw,
Syne draws his bow – it’s no’ quite richt, he needs some rosit noo!
He starts off in a slow strathspey, syne follows in a reel,
He’s warming up, he’ll play straight on the ains he lou’s sae weel,
But deed he’s never lang alane for neebors come inby,
To harken to the fiddles vice an’ whiles a dance tae try.
It’s “Jamie gie us Tullymet, Pease Strae or Isle o’ Skye”,
An’ later Jamie changes ower to ‘Comin thro’ the Rye’,
An’ whiles he gies a wee bit sang sae pawky an’ sae crouse,
Like ‘Big Broom Besoms’, ‘Canny Frien!’ an ‘My Ain Dear Auld Hoose’.
Syne Jean, his wife, says “See the time, man ye sud be in bed”,
But Jamie plays anither reel an’ a’ the fowks are gled,
But ilka pleasure has a end an Jamie’s dune rich’ weel,
“Guid nicht ma friens an’ come back sune tae hear anither reel”.
Epistle to Jock Dickson
by Dick
Dear Jock, I humbly beg and pray, you’ll pardon me for this delay,
When o’ my reason half bereft, an’ just twa nichts afore you left,
After a very merry week, in this ancient city famed for reek,
I rashly vowed, if given time, t’immortalise your name in rhyme,
Though vows are aft ower lightly spoken, ower rashly made, ower quickly broken,
Still, if it be his Godship’s will, my promise I will yet fulfill.
But, noo that I am fairly startit, I feel a wee thocht chicken-heartit,
Lest, doubtin’ what some passage means, you show it to your learned freens,
(Critics abound in in ilka toun, e.g. the Smith or Jamie Broon),
Wha, without judgement, wit or conscience, might still pronounce my rhyme damned nonsense,
An’ straightway prove’t to be the vain, abortion o’ some moon struck brain,
But, Lord, Jock, tongues were meant to wag, auld nature won’t supply a gag.
An’ to her shame she aft refrains, frae drawin’ on her stock o’ brains,
Leaving some hears deficient quite, of that most useful requisite,
Why this should be I canna tell, perhaps she disna ken hersel’,
But trustin’ that some early day, she’ll see the error o’ her way,
I leave it to her ain discretion, to rectift this sad omission,
A word, noo, Jocj ‘tween you an’ me, last time we met we had a spree.
An’, if again we do forgather, I hope an’ trust we’ll hae anither,
Though a’ the priests in sable coats, frae Dolphinton tae John o’ Groats,
Should raise their voice in loud accord, an’ damn the baith o’ swi’ ae word,
Sae merrily the whaup we’ll quaff, we’ll crack oor jokes, an’ syne we’ll laugh,
We’ll dance an’ hooch, we’ll rant an’ sing, till Kippie Hill wi’ echoes ring,
An’ hoolets at the dead o’ nicht, shall, tremblin’, haud their breath wi’ fright.
Then notes o’ music, sweet an’ clear, shall soothe the enchanted listener’s ear,
Guid auld Scotch music, best o’ ony, it’s measure aye rins smooth an’ bonny,
But, played wi’ Dickson’s skill an’ art, it never fails tae touch the heart,
Scotch sangs an’ tunes by men o’ taste, are ranked among the very best,
Although some modern Scots, I fear, hae lost theit taste as weel’s their ear,
Neglictin’ mony a guid auld sang, for senseless trash in Cockney slang.
Though worthy o’ a better fate, Rab’s sangs are noo ‘not up to date’,
They dina suit the modern taste, outlandish jargon pleases best,
Imported frae some foreign clime, an’ lost to music, sense an’ rhyme,
There’s German bands in ilka street, dispensin’ stuff that’s far frae sweet,
An’ organ grinders deave oor lugs, while wily dames hand round their jugs,
Then bow, an’ grin, an’ wink their ee, tae catch the canny Scots bawbee.
But should a note o’ foreign gear, e’er frae your fiddle reach my ear,
Though but ae demi-semi-quaver, that day oor freenship ends forever,
When winter wi’ his snaw an’ frost, has lifted to some other coast,
An’ pearly dews an’ vernal showers, revive the little droopin’ flowers,
When fields assume their coat o’ green, an’ scented breezes fan the scene.
When birdies sing amang the broughs, an’ lambkins bleat upon the knows,
Then will I leave Auld Reekie’s bounds, her never-endin’ deafenin’ sounds,
Her mingled dirt an’ dignity, an’ spend ae day alang wi’ thee,
Should Heaven decree’t to be my last, I widna wish it better passed,
Jock, I might say a hantle mair, an’ no’ exhaust my rhymin’ ware,
But here, it is my firm conviction, I should pronounce the benediction.
Though godly priests charge Godly fee, I send you here my blessin’ free,
If I’m a judge o’ Holy wares, I think my ain’s as guid as theirs,
An’ what to Kirk folk may seem queer, I claim that my ane is sincere,
May Heaven wi’ choicest blessings bless thee, nor care nor sorrow e’er oppress thee,
Lang may ye play the ‘Laird o’ Grant’, ‘Over the Garle’ an ‘Maxwell’s Rant’,
An’ when that ancient ruffian Death, comes wi’ his scythe to stop your breath,
Just meet him wi’ a steady eye, an’ treat him to a bauld Strathspey,
An’ when in Linton’s auld kirkyard, ye’re laid beneath the grassy sward,
Soun’ may the King o’ Fiddlers sleep, while bairns’ bairns in sorrow weep.
Box and Fiddle
October 1999