Adam McCulloch (r)

“A rip-roaring yarn”

Earlier this year, when researching my posts for “Babylon” (Child 14), I came across a terrific Scottish recording of the tune, “The Bonnie Banks of Airdrie” by Adam McCulloch.  McCulloch’s album In These Times, also led me to “Willie Taylor” and an interesting week with that tune and the Female Warrior Ballad genre.  In These Times is also the first place where I heard the “True Love Has No Season” variant on Norman Blake’s “Billy Gray.”

McCulloch’s album caught my attention for his tasteful, solo acoustic arrangements, and his strong Scots vocals.  The performance of the Western “Billy Gray” coming through in that accent worked quite well.  Perhaps something in Blake’s songcraft welcomes those strains from the Auld Country.  In any event, McCulloch clearly gets “inside” the song and delivers a credible and compelling performance.

I wanted some additional perspective on Scottish visions of the American Wild West. I also wondered whether McCulloch might have some thoughts about the outlaw/artist connection.  We spoke over Google video chat, and I’ve recorded the interview below.  I should mention that we spoke before I wrote the previous two posts. (“Billy Gray” and “A ruthless man and a dangerous outlaw“)

MBM:  How did you first come across “True Love knows No Season”?  What led you to include it on your album, In These Times?

AM:  My mom [Gordeanna McCulloch] is a traditional folk singer, so from an early age and all of my life, I’ve been around folk music.  It was always around me.  I first heard this song on a Planxty album.

A good story is a good story is a good story.  Unless I get interested in a song, I don’t do a whole lot of research about it.  From recording it on the album, I learned more about it.  But I’ve never listened to Norman Blake singing it until this morning, in a recording on YouTube, where he was performing it live with his wife.  So, I’ve now just been listening to a whole lot more of Norman Blake as a result.

When I first heard it from Planxty, I just fell in love with it.  And, just like you, I was drawn to the murder balladry and the death and destruction.  [Laughter]

[Here are recordings of Planxty’s version.  The interview continues below.]

Listen to the album version on Spotify here.

MBM:  How do you think it fits with the rest of the material on the album?  You sing a few other songs on the album that fit within our broad definition of murder ballads (“Bonnie Banks of Airdrie,” “MacPherson’s Rant,” and “Willie Taylor.”  How would you compare this song to them?

AM: Well it’s definitely up there with them for me.  When I made the album, it was mostly songs that were songs I liked growing up.  They were songs I would sing at parties or barbecues and such.  They were the songs that I liked coming out of the folk music tradition.  That’s why I put them on the album.

“MacPherson’s Rant” I learned later on.  The story of “MacPherson’s Rant”—to me, because it is a Scottish song that actually happened and having been brought up in the tradition—really represents something important.  It’s partly me, it’s partly the land, it’s partly the tradition and our history and culture.  Going through the variants of the song, you build up knowledge of it and a liking for it.  MacPherson was an outlaw, a leader of a band of Gypsies (as far as I know) that would overstay their welcome in houses and such.  He was sentenced to hang, and then was granted a reprieve; but then they set the clocks ahead and executed him anyway.

[See our two part discussion of “MacPherson’s Rant” starting here.]

As for “Willie Taylor,” I think I mentioned to you when you wrote about it that I took Uncle Earl’s version.  I don’t know if theirs is American or Irish.  But, I was given loads of Scottish versions to read from my mother.  When I discovered that final verse, I had to add it to the end just to round off the song nicely.

[See our three part discussion of “Bold William Taylor” starting here.]To me, the stories of the songs are more important.  That was the way I was brought up.  Portraying the story and getting the full story across.

“The Bonnie Banks O’ Airdrie:”  I got this one from my mom.  She sings that song.  It was a local corruption of a Child Ballad (“Babylon”), or “The Bonnie Banks o’ Vergie.” Airdrie is a place just outside of Glasgow .  The song is getting quite popular now.  There are a few people performing it.

[See our three-part discussion of “Babylon,” starting here.]

MBM:  Yes, the story originated in Germany or Scandinavia, did it not?

AM:  There are a lot of songs, like this one, that come through Scotland from Europe and Scandinavia.  In a lot of these songs, you can see the stories flowing through a number of countries. Songs like “Omie Wise” or “Pretty Polly” in America, I’m not sure if the stories behind them are true, but they are songs like the “Butcher’s Boy” here in Scotland; i.e. the young male lover takes his sweetheart’s life because he is refused marriage or whatever.  There’s a link through history and music for all these stories.  It’s a thing that fascinates me—trying to find things that link together.  There is a definite link through history in the Scandinavian/European versions.  They are the same stories.

MBM:  Do you think of “Billy Gray”/”True Love Knows No Season” as more of a love song or more of a “Western”? Why?

AM:  It was the Wild West aspect that really grabbed me.  When I hear that song, no matter who sings it, I just buy into the story.  What gets me is the part about being an outlaw and falling in love.  The lawman who rides from the badlands is also a powerful image.

To me, you can hear character building—Billy Gray was a dangerous man, and a wanted outlaw.  But, to hear that he was actually sleeping in the Bar (Pub) “the Clarendon bar”—to me, the way I imagine it, he’s drunk in the bar when he finds out the lawman’s looking for him. Then at the end you get the more forlorn, love-related aspect that the female mourns for the rest of her life.

To me, it’s just a rip-roaring yarn.  Good on Norman Blake.  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard his version until today.

MBM:  What kinds of ties do you see between the American West and Scotland?  Or, what kinds of ties do you see between songs about the American West and Scottish ballads?

AM:  Well, it starts from the transition of people.  It is British people who go into the Wild West. It must have been European–French, Irish, Scottish–people that went into the Wild West. We listened to a lot of bluegrass in the house and Appalachian music when I was growing up. Being brought up on these songs, there’s a definite connection.

To me, blues music, even in its style of singing has close ties to the kind of singing you hear in Traveler communities in Ireland and Scotland. There are blues notes in it.  Gospel music also connects back to the islands of Scotland.  A Black American professor (I can’t remember his name) traced the roots of Gospel music back to the congregations of The Free Presbyterian Churches. These churches would sing the Psalms in voice and reply form with the minister leading, they would sing in the Gaelic language and only use two or three tunes, and still do.

The professor, took a congregation from the Isle of Lewis to his Southern African American church to sing and worship, and the local Americans were saying, “They’re singing our music.” The professor said, “We are singing their music.”

I can hear these connections in the music.  I can hear them in the songs.

There’s a song,“Tramps and Hawkers” –an American who performs it, Jim Ringer.  It’s an old Scottish song.  You can hear the traces in it but it’s been changed into an American surrounding.

I make a point in my singing of knowing what the words mean, and using my dialect.  I use Scots deliberately.  A lot of people are Anglifying songs, and they’re changing the words in them.

To me there’s a definite sense in music, be it Americana, Country, or Bluegrass–I can hear traces of the Scottish culture in it.  When I hear the songs come back, I can definitely feel the Scottish culture in them.  I can’t say they directly come from Scotland, it’s definitely a melting pot, but there’s a link.

MBM:  Dick Gaughan has also sung some songs set in the American West, for instance “Pancho and Lefty.”  He also has a song about working as a musician called “Outlaws and Dreamers.”  Do you think there’s a tie between artists (musicians) and outlaws?

AM:  I’ve known Dick Gaughan since I was a small child.  When my mom sang a long time ago, they were often performing in the same places.  He was the guy who most stood out to me in Scottish folk music.  He and a few other people were the reason I picked up the guitar and started singing.

That’s a really good question.  I can see the link [between artists and outlaws].  I can go for that, yes.  An artist—painters, performers, song-writers, illustrators, cartoonists that you get in the broadsheet newspapers in Scotland/England–to me, the outlaw mentality appeals to them.  Looking back in American history in the Appalachian mountains—people riding around, making the music and making the moonshine.  There’s something about the freedom, the rambling, and the roving.  I agree with that, yes.

That’s exactly what’s in my head.  Other artists, especially painters or satirists.  It’s their job to mock the government and the heads of state.  So they’re also outside the law in a way.

MBM:  What other artists have been influential to you?  I understand that your mother is a singer of traditional ballads as well.

AM:  My mom has been singing professionally since she was about 18.  She was part of the folk revival, right when it was kicking off here.  When my mom was a young lady, she went to London and got recorded.  She joined the band The Clutha (Clutha is the ancient name for the River Clyde) and sang with them.  The guy who played guitar and sang in the band was Ronnie Alexander.

I heard lots of different artists from that time.  About 25 years ago, I saw Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger.  When I saw her [Seeger], she gave me a big hug, and said, “the last time I saw you, you were a baby.”  Peggy knew my mom a long time ago.  My mom sang with many of these folk musicians in the 60s and 70s.  She performed in America, too; she was in Boston about a week or so in the 80s.

There was lots of music in the house all the time growing up—Doc Watson, John Prine, Bob Dylan, the Band, the Eagles.  Just a bunch of music in the 70s—along with my dad making sure The Beatles were represented.  [Laughter]  Folk music was always there in my life.  There was nothing pushed on me, I just took it up.

MBM:  Tell us about your next projects.  Are you going to include more American material?

AM: The plan for the future is trying to get solo gigs and working with different musicans for the Adam McCulloch Trio. I’ll be doing a gig in April with Paul Mckenna and Sean Gray from The Paul McKenna Band. Paul’s just won best Traditional singer of the year last year.  He also helped with my first album, and hopefully I can work with them more when I make my new album.

I’m making headway with the new material.  There’s going to be a murder ballad or two in it, but I’ve got a great version to one I’m keeping a secret. I don’t want people beating me to it.  The arrangement is quite interesting—with the banjo in a sort of eastern tuning.  I play in the DADGAD tuning on the guitar and I’m adapting it to a more blues feel. I’m thinking of “The Dowie Dens of Yarrow: and “Johnnie o Briedeslie.” Both have death, blood, and guts in them. Also American and Irish songs will be on the agenda.

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Thanks to Adam McCulloch for his time and thoughts, and for adding to our discussion this week of “Billy Gray”/”True Love Knows No Season.”  You can find his recording, In These Times, on the Bandcamp site linked to his tunes in the above links, or on Spotify here:

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Coda

Finally, a performance from Barluath, on a recording released by Glasgow’s Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. All of the band’s members are students there. I came across this version following my chat with Adam McCulloch. It’s a distinctive arrangement, modulating into an instrumental bridge that is more elaborate than anything we’ve listened to so far. Ainsley Hamill‘s singing is extraordinary.  It’s intense and riveting, and a completely different spin on the song.  It somehow evades the perils I wrote about in the last post, despite the more formal setting. It turns out that Hamill is a student of McCulloch’s mother, Gordeanna McCulloch.  Another singer Ms. McCulloch has taught well.

 

Listen here on Spotify.