And To Conclude
by Charlie Gore
Last month, I tried to piece together a picture of the older Scottish fiddle tradition in decline; through its struggle to make itself heard in the face of the dominant accordion sound; finally, in the 1950s, the dramatic entry of Shetland and Ireland into the picture and the ensuing ‘rebirth’ of enthusiasm for what was still to be loosely known as ‘the tradition’, but would in fact go on to become something very new and different under various manufactured titles linking to the international folk scene, ‘Celtic music’, ‘Highland music’, ‘Ceilidh music’, ‘Tartan rock’ and so on into ever deeper into comedy and ‘spin’.
For that loyal group devoted to their traditional dancing and strict tempo, the accordion band or solo piano still hold centre stage. The tradition of the Gows, Marshall and Skinner, ancestor of that same dance tradition but well equipped to outlive it, has its following and continues to delight quietly and without flamboyance, against the skirling, heuching and screeching of its competitors which, in their various ways, tend to hog the limelight and absorb and educational or promotional backing available.
The half dozen considerable collections of music I listed last month, along with Skinner’s own personal contribution and the military pipe music manuals, became the source for dance music in the next century. The Athole Collection, Kerr’s ‘Merry Melodies’, K. N. MacDonald (Skye), Lowe, Glen and Surenne provide among them literally thousands of strathspeys and reels, yet that is almost all they provide, along with a few pages of Scottish jigs, hornpipes, Irish jigs and reel, some old and new ballroom pieces and country dances sets. In one case (Surenne’s ‘Dance Music of Scotland’ 1851) reels and strathspeys make up all 244 titles. At that time, Skinner was also making his input (over 600 in total) enriching the repertoire withy his great reels and strathspeys, quicksteps, airs, laments and performance pieces. The military pipe manuals were beginning to interest fiddlers and accordion bands alike and the RSCDS began to add their quota from the 1920s.
The continuing partnership of Scottish country dance with traditional dance steps and rhythms is crucial. Strict-tempo was the watchword of the leaders of dance in the 20th century, as no doubt it was in the earlier period. And so it remains to this day, but to contemporary folk musicians strict-tempo is no more than a dirty word. Breakneck speed and a range of highly eccentric ornamentation are the hallmarks of the ‘new sound’. There’s a lot more in it of the technique developed by the descendents of emigrant Scots and Irish fiddlers in North America than of the purer Scottish original. This of course ties in well with the fashion for ‘ceilidh dancing’ where rules are few and a good time may be had by all under thirty. The one thing it is not, however, is traditional. One way to maintain a liaison between the old and new might be a concentrated effort to get traditional dancers and potential fiddlers into training together. A word picture is hardly likely to convey the essence of something as subtle as the foot movements of a strathspey. You have to be there and play to it. Anyone who has been present or performed at a display of Canadian step dancing will appreciate the ways in which dance influences the musician’s style. Some of the older musicians of Cape Breton, where step dancing is alive and well, are ready to confirm that the style of fiddling of the region is specially tailored to it. As in every national musical tradition, there is something uniquely worth preserving, but that should not lead to preserving it in aspic!
Demonstrations of country dancing on television a few years back were so conceived as to leave the impression that dance is ‘corsetted’ by strict-tempo. There was no humour (except for the viewer) and very little evidence of what might be described as a fiddler’s ‘instinct for the dance’. In the average accordion line-up, the fiddler or fiddlers, if present at all, tended to be seen but not heard.
Returning to the repertory, the fiddlers of Scotland seem to have forgotten, or decided to ignore, the wealth of other music of the earlier centuries that missed the selection process begun by Lowe, Kerr and their contemporaries. The printed material that was never re-issued is preserved on the shelves of the great libraries, but how many of today’s ranking fiddlers go looking for new (old) material there? Gae few, by my reckoning! If they did go, and found material to their personal taste, asking to be played, the rest of the fiddling world would do what it has always done and follow suit. Hearing a tune played well is the best way of ensuring that it becomes a favourite. Besides thousands more reels and strathspeys, there are the slow airs and laments, the jigs, the quicksteps, oddities of every description (going back centuries to before music was even written down, let alone published). But it was not by any means that this music was necessarily inferior to the material selected. In a lot of cases it was simply because it didn’t qualify for inclusion as ‘dance music’. Later, there could have been a comparable trawl through the books for other kinds of music for republishing, but times have moved on and that has only happened to a very limited extent. The resulting loss to the repertoire of potentially playable music, not selected then, little heard and rarely even seen since, is truly incredible. Any good musician in the 21st century with a mind to go looking in the right places has a feast of surprises in store! I hope I live long enough to hear some of them played again by the next generation of great Scottish Traditional fiddlers.
Two examples (with music printed)
Nathanial Gow’s Compliments to his Brother
There’s a distinct flavour of piobaireachd in the second 8 bars of this slow air. It appears in ‘Gow’s Sixth Book of Reels’, published in 1822 and not (as far as we know) ever republished. One of its unique features is that, apart from half a dozen reels and a couple of strathspeys, its 36 pages contain only tunes marked ‘Slow’, one reason why it might have been set aside by the late 19th century collectors and since forgotten. Some of the tunes are well worth investigation.
Pennycuick House
Stranger still is the neglect of the music of Neil Gow Junior, grandson of Niel and son of Nathanial, who seemed to be well established in the family tradition when he died tragically young in 1823. The father proudly assembled the son’s compositions posthumously in ‘A Collection od Airs, Reels and Strathspeys…..’ which eventually appeared in 1835, four years after his own death in 1831.
I would like to publish a couple of hundred more examples, but time and space forbid.
For that loyal group devoted to their traditional dancing and strict tempo, the accordion band or solo piano still hold centre stage. The tradition of the Gows, Marshall and Skinner, ancestor of that same dance tradition but well equipped to outlive it, has its following and continues to delight quietly and without flamboyance, against the skirling, heuching and screeching of its competitors which, in their various ways, tend to hog the limelight and absorb and educational or promotional backing available.
The half dozen considerable collections of music I listed last month, along with Skinner’s own personal contribution and the military pipe music manuals, became the source for dance music in the next century. The Athole Collection, Kerr’s ‘Merry Melodies’, K. N. MacDonald (Skye), Lowe, Glen and Surenne provide among them literally thousands of strathspeys and reels, yet that is almost all they provide, along with a few pages of Scottish jigs, hornpipes, Irish jigs and reel, some old and new ballroom pieces and country dances sets. In one case (Surenne’s ‘Dance Music of Scotland’ 1851) reels and strathspeys make up all 244 titles. At that time, Skinner was also making his input (over 600 in total) enriching the repertoire withy his great reels and strathspeys, quicksteps, airs, laments and performance pieces. The military pipe manuals were beginning to interest fiddlers and accordion bands alike and the RSCDS began to add their quota from the 1920s.
The continuing partnership of Scottish country dance with traditional dance steps and rhythms is crucial. Strict-tempo was the watchword of the leaders of dance in the 20th century, as no doubt it was in the earlier period. And so it remains to this day, but to contemporary folk musicians strict-tempo is no more than a dirty word. Breakneck speed and a range of highly eccentric ornamentation are the hallmarks of the ‘new sound’. There’s a lot more in it of the technique developed by the descendents of emigrant Scots and Irish fiddlers in North America than of the purer Scottish original. This of course ties in well with the fashion for ‘ceilidh dancing’ where rules are few and a good time may be had by all under thirty. The one thing it is not, however, is traditional. One way to maintain a liaison between the old and new might be a concentrated effort to get traditional dancers and potential fiddlers into training together. A word picture is hardly likely to convey the essence of something as subtle as the foot movements of a strathspey. You have to be there and play to it. Anyone who has been present or performed at a display of Canadian step dancing will appreciate the ways in which dance influences the musician’s style. Some of the older musicians of Cape Breton, where step dancing is alive and well, are ready to confirm that the style of fiddling of the region is specially tailored to it. As in every national musical tradition, there is something uniquely worth preserving, but that should not lead to preserving it in aspic!
Demonstrations of country dancing on television a few years back were so conceived as to leave the impression that dance is ‘corsetted’ by strict-tempo. There was no humour (except for the viewer) and very little evidence of what might be described as a fiddler’s ‘instinct for the dance’. In the average accordion line-up, the fiddler or fiddlers, if present at all, tended to be seen but not heard.
Returning to the repertory, the fiddlers of Scotland seem to have forgotten, or decided to ignore, the wealth of other music of the earlier centuries that missed the selection process begun by Lowe, Kerr and their contemporaries. The printed material that was never re-issued is preserved on the shelves of the great libraries, but how many of today’s ranking fiddlers go looking for new (old) material there? Gae few, by my reckoning! If they did go, and found material to their personal taste, asking to be played, the rest of the fiddling world would do what it has always done and follow suit. Hearing a tune played well is the best way of ensuring that it becomes a favourite. Besides thousands more reels and strathspeys, there are the slow airs and laments, the jigs, the quicksteps, oddities of every description (going back centuries to before music was even written down, let alone published). But it was not by any means that this music was necessarily inferior to the material selected. In a lot of cases it was simply because it didn’t qualify for inclusion as ‘dance music’. Later, there could have been a comparable trawl through the books for other kinds of music for republishing, but times have moved on and that has only happened to a very limited extent. The resulting loss to the repertoire of potentially playable music, not selected then, little heard and rarely even seen since, is truly incredible. Any good musician in the 21st century with a mind to go looking in the right places has a feast of surprises in store! I hope I live long enough to hear some of them played again by the next generation of great Scottish Traditional fiddlers.
Two examples (with music printed)
Nathanial Gow’s Compliments to his Brother
There’s a distinct flavour of piobaireachd in the second 8 bars of this slow air. It appears in ‘Gow’s Sixth Book of Reels’, published in 1822 and not (as far as we know) ever republished. One of its unique features is that, apart from half a dozen reels and a couple of strathspeys, its 36 pages contain only tunes marked ‘Slow’, one reason why it might have been set aside by the late 19th century collectors and since forgotten. Some of the tunes are well worth investigation.
Pennycuick House
Stranger still is the neglect of the music of Neil Gow Junior, grandson of Niel and son of Nathanial, who seemed to be well established in the family tradition when he died tragically young in 1823. The father proudly assembled the son’s compositions posthumously in ‘A Collection od Airs, Reels and Strathspeys…..’ which eventually appeared in 1835, four years after his own death in 1831.
I would like to publish a couple of hundred more examples, but time and space forbid.