Bert Murray
by Robbie Shepherd
Everyone in the traditional music scene was saddened to hear of the recent death of Bert Murray MBE. Robbie Shepherd wrote this obituary and we make no apologies for leaving it in the Doric. The article is reprinted by kind permission of the Aberdeen Press and Journal.
For a’ that had lugs
There wis magical poo’r
In’s bow an in’s fingers
The Fiddler – John M Caie
A freenship, tho the memories bide, cam tae an eyn last wick an we pey’d oor hinmaist respecs tae ‘The Auld Fiddler’ Bert Murray MBE, in’s ninetieth eer.
We wid aften reca foo we first becam acquaint. There wis Esma an me wi The Garlogie Four haein wir wikkeyn’s music the the sma Garlogie Bar an fyles on a Setterday nicht fin playin up Deeside, in wid come Bill Slessor’s band includin the handsome figure o’ Bert an’s fiddle.
We shar’t mony a stage since syne an little did I think nearly half a century on that I wid be sittin at his funeral service haarknin tae the pair o them on cassette – Bert on fiddle wi Esma on piano – waftin oot the Strains o Danny Boy.
At’s jist een o the memories I’ll cherish o a remarkable man, a real faimily man an a true inspiration tae a that haud oor prood fiddle tradition sae dear.
We hae his beuk written in 1983 fan he reach’t the three-score-eers-an-ten that gaes a fascinatin account – nae o the fiddling strangely – bit o life in Aiberdeen fae fin he wis a bairn.
Born in a tenement in Prospect Terrace in Ferryhill, he describes the crampit space o the sunks wi a twa rooms an closet, a faimily o faither, mither an nine bairns. Sleepin arrangements meant fower loons huddl’t thegither wi a tyke (mattress) fu o caff laid on timmer spars. The playin o the fiddle wis sae naitural tae him bit mony ithers, the introduction tae how the bow an the rossit wis unexpectit.
It wis his brither Gordon that wis lent the fiddle fae skweel an wis nane teen on wi’t ata preferring tae gyang outside wi a fitba. The nine-eer-aul Bert wid sneak open the case, tak oot the fiddle an in nae time ata, much tae the amazement o’s fowks, wid warsle oot a tune or twa.
Es naitural ability seen saw him winnin competitions, in much demand as a soloist or band fiddler, culminatin wi Scottish Dance Music broadcasts wi Annie Shand Scott an the antrin solo spot. His first broadcast wis wi Neil MacLean back in the thirties an the days o BBC in Belmont Street.
He laid the fiddle tae rest fin his wife Isobel took ill, an it wisna till a year efter she died in 1984 that he happen’t tae switch on the wireless rae find me playin a brand new LP fae the Cape Breton Symphony an in particular the tune ‘Trip to Windsor’, as he describit jist a three eer syne on radio, “his hauns an feet an aathing were goin”.
Jist as he hid at the age o nine, sae here he wis at the age o 72 haulin that fiddle oot aneth the bed the verra neist day an rediscover’t the freenship o the fiddle.
There wis naething he likit better than tae hear again the bairns maakin music an he wis a regular at Festivals aa ower. Mang his proudest moments maun hae been the invitations tae gyang tae Capr Breton, swappin tunes wi the best o them ower there, the hooses an open door fin a fiddler’s on the go.
There wis tee the honour fae the NAAFC fin the young fiddlers were challenged tae play Bert’s ain compositions at an annual competition. Michty, the pride in his hairt can just be imagin’t as he sat that day in the Brunton Halls in Musselburgh. We are thankful tee for the meticulous nature o the man. He composed 748 original compositions – ay, that mony – an pit them aa on tape. Noo there’s some legacy tae leave ahin an I ken the faimily are anxious that they be pit tyae gweed use in educational circles.
His hinmaist recordin was at the age o 82, on a cassette wi Marie-Louise Napier wi a tune he ca’d The Days That Are Gone.
Ay, his daily darg is deen bit oh the memories!
Tae feenish on a licht note, Esma wis mindin’s on the time she made that cassette wi him as play’t at the funeral service. His breathin wisna deein muckle for the recordin engineer’s nerves an he feenish’t up scrapin the bow wi a hankie tied roon’s nose like a cowboy. Canna picter Bert as a Hill Billy!
Box and Fiddle
September 2003
For a’ that had lugs
There wis magical poo’r
In’s bow an in’s fingers
The Fiddler – John M Caie
A freenship, tho the memories bide, cam tae an eyn last wick an we pey’d oor hinmaist respecs tae ‘The Auld Fiddler’ Bert Murray MBE, in’s ninetieth eer.
We wid aften reca foo we first becam acquaint. There wis Esma an me wi The Garlogie Four haein wir wikkeyn’s music the the sma Garlogie Bar an fyles on a Setterday nicht fin playin up Deeside, in wid come Bill Slessor’s band includin the handsome figure o’ Bert an’s fiddle.
We shar’t mony a stage since syne an little did I think nearly half a century on that I wid be sittin at his funeral service haarknin tae the pair o them on cassette – Bert on fiddle wi Esma on piano – waftin oot the Strains o Danny Boy.
At’s jist een o the memories I’ll cherish o a remarkable man, a real faimily man an a true inspiration tae a that haud oor prood fiddle tradition sae dear.
We hae his beuk written in 1983 fan he reach’t the three-score-eers-an-ten that gaes a fascinatin account – nae o the fiddling strangely – bit o life in Aiberdeen fae fin he wis a bairn.
Born in a tenement in Prospect Terrace in Ferryhill, he describes the crampit space o the sunks wi a twa rooms an closet, a faimily o faither, mither an nine bairns. Sleepin arrangements meant fower loons huddl’t thegither wi a tyke (mattress) fu o caff laid on timmer spars. The playin o the fiddle wis sae naitural tae him bit mony ithers, the introduction tae how the bow an the rossit wis unexpectit.
It wis his brither Gordon that wis lent the fiddle fae skweel an wis nane teen on wi’t ata preferring tae gyang outside wi a fitba. The nine-eer-aul Bert wid sneak open the case, tak oot the fiddle an in nae time ata, much tae the amazement o’s fowks, wid warsle oot a tune or twa.
Es naitural ability seen saw him winnin competitions, in much demand as a soloist or band fiddler, culminatin wi Scottish Dance Music broadcasts wi Annie Shand Scott an the antrin solo spot. His first broadcast wis wi Neil MacLean back in the thirties an the days o BBC in Belmont Street.
He laid the fiddle tae rest fin his wife Isobel took ill, an it wisna till a year efter she died in 1984 that he happen’t tae switch on the wireless rae find me playin a brand new LP fae the Cape Breton Symphony an in particular the tune ‘Trip to Windsor’, as he describit jist a three eer syne on radio, “his hauns an feet an aathing were goin”.
Jist as he hid at the age o nine, sae here he wis at the age o 72 haulin that fiddle oot aneth the bed the verra neist day an rediscover’t the freenship o the fiddle.
There wis naething he likit better than tae hear again the bairns maakin music an he wis a regular at Festivals aa ower. Mang his proudest moments maun hae been the invitations tae gyang tae Capr Breton, swappin tunes wi the best o them ower there, the hooses an open door fin a fiddler’s on the go.
There wis tee the honour fae the NAAFC fin the young fiddlers were challenged tae play Bert’s ain compositions at an annual competition. Michty, the pride in his hairt can just be imagin’t as he sat that day in the Brunton Halls in Musselburgh. We are thankful tee for the meticulous nature o the man. He composed 748 original compositions – ay, that mony – an pit them aa on tape. Noo there’s some legacy tae leave ahin an I ken the faimily are anxious that they be pit tyae gweed use in educational circles.
His hinmaist recordin was at the age o 82, on a cassette wi Marie-Louise Napier wi a tune he ca’d The Days That Are Gone.
Ay, his daily darg is deen bit oh the memories!
Tae feenish on a licht note, Esma wis mindin’s on the time she made that cassette wi him as play’t at the funeral service. His breathin wisna deein muckle for the recordin engineer’s nerves an he feenish’t up scrapin the bow wi a hankie tied roon’s nose like a cowboy. Canna picter Bert as a Hill Billy!
Box and Fiddle
September 2003