📷 Maggie MacInnes – by Vincent O’Brien

As some of you might know, my mother Flora MacNeil and I performed often together and nearly all the Gaelic songs I sing and have recorded, I learned from her. She learned them orally, mostly from her mother, grandmother, aunt, and uncle as she grew up in Barra. She has, without doubt and by a large measure, been the most important musical influence of my life. We were also extremely close…. I know that sounds easy to say but it is the truth that she was my closest friend in the world as well as being a wonderful mother to me and my four siblings. When she passed away in May 2015, the loss and sadness I felt was overwhelming.

📷 Maggie and Flora singing in Turin, Italy – by A. MacInnes

The first time I sang in public after she died was at the MG ALBA Scots Trad Music Awards ceremony in December 2015, where Simon Thoumire and the team put together a lovely tribute to her. I remember walking out onto the stage not knowing if any sound would come out of my mouth but, as is often the case, the music took over and I got through it.

Some years later, I came across some cassette tapes which my mother had given to me years before. I remembered her telling me that she had recorded lots of songs for an Australian folklorist, Dr James Kalokerinos, from when she was newly married to my father in 1955 until around 1961. He had recorded her on a large reel-to-reel tape recorder which he bought and left with her when he went back to Australia. Dr Kalokerinos arranged for the recordings to be put onto cassette tapes which he sent to my mother from Australia in the 1970s. I was intrigued but always reluctant to play the tapes in case they broke in the player due to their age. Also, I still had my mother there to pass on the songs to me directly, so I didn’t pay them too much attention. However, they came back into my mind after she passed away. When I was with her, my mother was always surprising me with beautiful songs I had never heard her sing before as she had a huge repertoire, none of which she had written down. I thought maybe there would be one or two special discoveries on these tapes.

This was all in the back of my mind for some years as I gradually began to perform more regularly again, releasing my 6th solo album, Port Bàn, in January 2020 just before the COVID pandemic. While at home during lockdown, I made the decision to get these recordings digitised and see what was there. I felt that it was wrong for me to hold on to them without investigating them further and possibly sharing them with others. I also got time then to go through my mother’s papers including letters, newspaper clippings, photos and performance reviews which gave me additional information about Dr Kalokerinos, their friendship and his passion for her singing and her songs. My interest and resolve grew.

In 2024, I applied to Creative Scotland for a grant to have the recordings digitised and for me to research the songs which were there and develop a show which would pay tribute to my mother and other tradition bearers from Barra who passed on the songs to her.

I am very pleased to say that my application for a grant was successful and the work began. I asked Chris Waite of Gran’s House Studio in Biggar to digitise the recordings and clean up those which had a lot of background noise. Chris shared all the digital files with me while I was at our family house in Barra. I cannot begin to tell you how emotional I felt listening to my mother speaking and singing. My father, Alister, is also speaking on the tapes and encouraging her to sing songs which he particularly liked. I listened, laughed and cried all the way through what turned out to be around 180 songs. This was just a fraction of my mother’s repertoire, but it is a wide and varied selection.

I began the process of researching the songs. This was very time consuming, but it was a “labour of love”. Some were songs I had heard my mother sing over the years but, as hoped, there were a number of others which I had never heard my mother or anyone else sing before…..and I loved them!

In order to get as much background information to the sort of life my mother would have had growing up in the 30s and 40s in Barra, I came to Barra on a number of occasions to speak to people of my mother’s generation who could share their memories of my mother and growing up on the island when getting together to sing and tell stories was a regular pastime. It became clear that some families were far more into that sort of thing than others. My mother always said she felt fortunate that songs were all around her at home and she just “soaked them up” rather than consciously learning them.

📷 Flora MacNeil, photographer unknown (from Flora’s own private photos)

I took a long time deciding which songs to include in the show. I chose some of my favourites of the songs I had never heard before, so that they would take on a new life. All the songs chosen helped me to tell something of my mother’s journey with the songs from Barra to many international stages of the world and to pay tribute to the tradition bearers of Barra more generally. One song which comes to mind in terms of helping tell my mother’s musical journey includes Mhic Iarla nam Bratach Bàna (Earl of the White Banners), which my mother sang with another great singer and piper from Barra, Calum Johnston, at the Edinburgh People’s Festival Ceilidh of 1951, organised by Hamish Henderson. They were the only two Gaelic singers invited to perform and this concert is often referred to as a major catalyst which sparked the folk music revival of the 50s and 60s. For the show, I decided to emulate their performance, and I am very pleased that my son, Calum Park, was able to take the part of Calum Johnston and we perform it as a duo in the show.

I was so excited about the quality of the songs that I resolved to make a new album and Creative Scotland clearly felt that this was a worthwhile endeavour and supported me once again.

The album is called Uiseagan Bharraigh which means, Barra Skylarks, after all the singers from Barra who have been singing these songs for generations.

The recording process was joyful and creative from the start. I began by working closely with my son, Calum, who plays guitar and fiddle, and we started developing some arrangements together. For other songs, I wanted a very subtle approach with textures and sounds rather than the standard style of arrangement and it was at this stage that Calum introduced me to the amazing musician, Dan Brown. I listened to Dan’s music, especially his use of electronics and piano, and thought this was the direction I wanted to explore for certain tracks. After our first meeting, I knew that the fit was perfect and that Dan understood where I was coming from with my ideas for the songs. I can’t thank Dan and Calum enough for all that they brought to the songs in those early stages, and we built from there with more fantastic musicians. My first choice of cellist was the wonderful, Wendy Weatherby. Wendy and I first played together in the 1980s and it has been fantastic to be working with her again. My life is very blessed with many musical connections…one of which has introduced me to the beautiful fiddle playing of Robyn Gray who is well known on the folk-scene, especially in Ayrshire, where I now live. Robyn is soon to be marrying my other son, Ruaraidh, and we talk about and play music all together often. Add to this line-up, the superb pipe and flute playing of Ailis Sutherland and the innovative, sensitive percussion playing of Alex Palmer, and I must say that for me, I could not have picked a better ensemble for this album. I feel/hope that my album presents the songs in a new fresh way with an energy which never takes away from the raw heartfelt beauty of them.

The Creative Scotland funding has also allowed me to create a ‘Flora’ website (www.floramacneil.com) to release the archive to the world. My mother was always happy to pass on her songs to other singers who were interested, so this is being done in the same spirit. I thought how special it would be to dedicate a site to this particular set of recordings which would allow me to add information about the songs, my mother and some of the other tradition bearers from my family.

We first performed the show, ‘The Kalokerinos Tapes’, at Celtic Connections earlier this year and released the album on 15th June. We will be touring the islands soon:

HebCelt, An Lanntair, Stornoway, 18th July
Cnoc Soillier, South Uist, 20th July
Castlebay Hall, Barra, 21st July
Under Canvas, Eden Court, Inverness, 23rd July (trio gig)
Blas Festival, Cultarlann, Inverness, 9th September
LAS, Portree, Skye, 10th September
National Piping Centre, Glasgow, 17th September
Scottish Storytelling Centre, Edinburgh, 18th September

📷 Maggie and her band performing at the Harbour Arts Centre in Irvine on 19th June, 2026 – by Pete Heywood

The journey to this point has been a very emotional one from the start and I could not be happier to be taking the show on the road and, of course to Barra, shining a light on these songs and the legacy of my mother, Flora MacNeil.

The album (both digital and physical formats) is available on my website and also on my Bandcamp and other streaming platforms.

📷 Photo by Somhairle MacDonald

My new album and most recent exhibition at An Talla Solais in Ullapool.

Interestingly, the previous blog I wrote for the Traditional Music Forum in 2020, also had a timing theme. (A flashback to the sudden luxury of time that Covid restrictions afforded us and how that inevitably led to slowing down.) So, it seems I have been interested in the concept of time for a number of years now. The result of all this contemplation is my new album Tìm, and my latest painting exhibition at An Talla Solais art gallery in Ullapool.

Time is a precious commodity in today’s society and, sadly, all too often we hear of folk never having enough time for the things they love. I am happiest and most relaxed when time feels slow and there is no rush. Writing music and painting often transports me to that mindful state. They are a form of meditation for me and I feel so fortunate to have this in my life to bring me to the here and now, being present and in the moment. I wanted this exhibition and album to invite people to do the same, to encourage them to pause, look and listen, bringing them into that exact moment in time.

When I think of time I think of history, of aging, of rusting, ruins, weathered objects, of place, of rocks, of maps, of time passing, of weather, of the people I most want to spend it with, and of the things that matter the most.

In preparation for the show, I spent a lot of time at Badentarbet, in my native Coigach, painting en plein air. It is one of my favourite places to be and there is so much ancestral history there, most notably my Great Great Grandmother, Anna Bhàn, was from there (named in one of the few successful Highland Clearance stories of a resistance led by women. Please do check out the album, Anna Bhàn, that I made in collaboration with my cousin, Rachel Newton, which was released in 2024.)

The rusted buoys, anchors and boats on the shore at Badentarbet are objects that have witnessed times gone by, providing a link from the past to the present and they are such a visual feast for a painter. There is a rusted sense of colour and texture in the resulting finished work, and a depth of mark-making that invites a slow study. Another nearby location, the NatureScot site of Knockan Crag has also been a special place to literally see time, through the geology of the rocks. Maybe this album will be a big hit amongst geologists!

In essence, my work is a visceral response to each moment in time, turning up every day, enjoying the process of creative interpretation, the stillness versus the movement, appreciating the small, the slow changes in landscape tones, and the ever-shifting skylines. I used a variety of media for the work, mostly mixed media and acrylics, some watercolour and some pencil drawings. Sadly, the exhibition is now finished but if you would like to see more of my artwork, please do get in touch to visit my studio in Ullapool. (See contact details below.)

The music I have written is gentle and meditative. We know that music is a marker of time, and my immediate inspiration has tended to be appreciative of a specific place and a singular occasion. For example, the song about sitting at Old Dornie watching the boats takes you there for that moment (see lyrics below) or, as in another composition, the quiet watching of the incremental weather changes in Ullapool from my kitchen window.

Significant inspiration to this theme has been Ceòl Mòr (known as Piobaireachd, meaning, ‘big music’ in the tradition of the Highland bagpipe), the variations inherent in its structure being both meditative and grounding. It sounds as old as it sounds contemporary, and it relates as much to this moment as to the past through the use of low-fi recording techniques and timeless instruments such as the small pipes.

I recorded the album at Gloworm Recording Studios in Glasgow with Iain Hutcheson. We have worked together on many previous album projects so we have a good understanding and similar approach to recording. Just as well, as we only had six days to record the music! It was a tricky balance, working on the visual art and the music at the same time. Thankfully I had written all the songs and was pretty organised, but moving back and fore between the two disciplines did push my capabilities to the absolute max!

The music played alongside the visual art in the gallery space throughout the show, and it was a special treat to perform the music live with Mike Vass in the gallery to celebrate the launch of the album. We are going on tour this August, so please do come and see us! (Ticket links below.)

The exhibition extended into new audiences, by way of me giving a couple of artist talks at the gallery and through me delivering some school workshops. I found preparation for the artist talk really interesting: it made me consider the mechanics of the process in so much depth. I started with the composition side to immerse myself in the theme of time and followed it with an artist residency at the Salmon Bothy at Badentarbet in September 2025. I find that getting away from home and escaping everyday interruptions to thought is really necessary to create headspace for a project.

Text became an important part of the work, with some of the song lyrics ending up on the album and printed on the gallery walls.

Old Dornie

Down to Old Dornie
Where the little boats shine
All out of time
Strung on a line

They are anchored together
Like pearls on a string
And no-one’s in sight x2

All flotsam and jetsam
Of what’s left behind
A magpie’s delight x2

My feet walk off starboard
Westerly homewards
Down the flag iris shore x2

Down to Old Dornie
Where the little boats shine
All out of time x3

Lyrics by Jan Kilpatrick

I Swallowed The Sky

I swallowed the sky
It didn’t even try to stop me

I coughed up the clouds
They laughed out loud
To warn me

I can taste the hot sun
It’s that strong one
To save me

I’ll breathe through the wind
It’ll brush against my skin
To show me

I’ll put the sea on my plate
It’s not too late
To fill me

I’ll never be full of this land.

Thankfully there are still folk who enjoy having an object to treasure and so who buy a physical album. I certainly am one of those people and so I was keen to print the song lyrics in the CD booklet to enhance that experience that goes beyond the digital. You can order the CD from my bandcamp page or my website here mairearadgreen.co.uk.

If you are also someone who would prefer to see my artwork in real life and would like to visit my studio in Ullapool, please do get in touch at [email protected].

And now to the live show – another ‘in person’ experience that is good for the soul! As I mentioned, I will be on tour with Mike Vass in August and below is a list of where we will be, with a link to buy tickets.

This project has been so wonderful. Creating work for the exhibition and the album has been mind expanding and incredible learning experience. Making work on this scale has only been possible with support from Creative Scotland. Thank you very much to them and to everyone who has bought my work along the way.

Thank you for taking the interest to read this, and for supporting my art and music. I hope to see you either at my studio or at a live show in August.

‘The older I get the more I appreciate time and have a much clearer idea of how art and music never can be a waste of my time.’

Thanks so much,

Mairearad x

——————–

AUGUST TOUR

01 August 2026 – 7.30pm, The Tolbooth, Stirling 

06 August 2026 – 8pm, The Barn, Banchory 

07 August 2026 – 7.30pm, The Glad Cafe, Glasgow 

28 August 2026 – 7.30pm, Seall Events, Minginish Community Hall, Skye.

29 August 2026 – 7.30pm, Coigach Community Hall, Coigach 

Website: mairearadgreen.co.uk

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@mairearad

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mairearad/

Bandcamp: https://mairearadgreen.bandcamp.com

📷 Photos by Jette Jaacks

Ashes to Art is my second solo album that was just released in April. Without intending to, the album became a deeply personal reflection of my journey over the past few years. Broadly speaking it conveys a theme of transformation: that which comes from overcoming a season of challenges and trials, then stepping into a new, brighter season of growth and opportunity.

To give the album some context, I will rewind 6 years to 2020 when we were in the midst of Covid while also going through the Brexit transition. While we were all facing a time of deep uncertainty, I sensed even prior to this time, that I was lacking some sort of artistic direction, and I couldn’t figure out exactly what was missing, or indeed what direction I needed to go in. As the end of 2020 approached, I made a choice that sent my life on a completely different trajectory. I moved to Denmark to join my now husband, Christoffer, who shortly after became my band mate and drummer.

At first I thought that half a year would suffice living in Denmark, especially having never imagined moving to another country, but I soon discovered that the rules dictated by the UK leaving Europe would make things very difficult or more or less impossible in my situation should I return to the UK then wish to move to Denmark again in the future. I had to accept my situation and let it take its course. It is a strange feeling moving to another country that is not native English speaking, and everyday chores like going to a food store independently feels like a triumph! Over time I gained my confidence while starting to explore new directions with regards to my music work.

I was quite closely connected with the student community at the city of Esbjerg’s music conservatoire, as Christoffer was a student there at the time, studying under the rhythmic and jazz department. Despite the fact that the school hosted Denmark’s only folk department, I found myself connecting mostly with students from other departments. Denmark has a lot smaller folk community compared to Scotland, and so it was naturally easier to meet musicians from other genres. This gradual immersion into the jazz and rhythmical worlds, from which I had no prior experience, was pivotal in terms of my own music and artistic identity.

At the time, I was writing a lot of new music for the harp, and envisioned working on my first album. When I received some funding for this, it felt natural to get a couple musicians on board that would add a completely new element and sound to the music. I invited a local electric guitarist and of course, Christoffer on the drums! That first rehearsal together felt somewhat like a lightbulb moment – the sound was electronic with effect pedals, elements of improvisation, and original Scottish folk-inspired melodies. It was like a ‘Yes!’ moment. This was the sound I had been longing for but not realising and suddenly I felt truly musically fulfilled. This was the catalyst moment that was the foundation of my first album, Land of Eden (2023), and a few years later, Ashes to Art.

It was exciting with a brand new direction that I could explore and develop with the harp. The instrument has opened up for some truly wonderful opportunities and collaborations in Denmark. I have often heard it being referred to as an ‘exotic’ instrument here and it has been a true privilege to share a part of my culture, identity and home with a new country, while making so many wonderful connections through the harp.

Of course with any move to a new place, a season of trials will inevitably follow. I have questioned my move many times, the fact that I had to start again in building up a community, then the question about leaving my family, friends, and the life that I had built in Glasgow before moving. As I have tried to process all these thoughts and feelings that of course still linger with me sometimes, I am in no doubt that the move opened up for a constant string of new experiences and inspiration, which has informed a lot of my work: in particular, with the new album Ashes to Art.

Over the years I have developed a deeper appreciation and longing for nature, and Danish nature has most certainly inspired me in new ways. To be honest, I was initially challenged in coming to a flat country, having grown up in the hills and mountains of Aberdeenshire, but then I got the opportunity to live on a beautiful island called Fanø, for a few months. This lies on the west coast of the country just by the city of Esbjerg. Fanø might be flat but it has the most incredible beaches and lies by the Wadden Sea, which is the largest unbroken system of intertidal sand and mud flats in the world. When the tide stretches back it leaves sand beds that stretch out as far as the eye can see. It’s truly a spectacle to witness and changed my perception of flatness! Living on Fanø inspired quite a bit of my work and recent album.

Ashes to Art is a natural development from my debut album, Land of Eden. While Land of Eden featured my original trio with guitar and drums, I wanted the second album to be more of a collaborative work with musicians from both Denmark and Scotland. It was recorded at Solas Sound Studio with Gus Stirrat who I have worked with on previous albums. Working with Gus was the natural choice for this album as he really understands your musical vision and brings the music to life in a whole new way. I was also delighted to be able to record with the exceptional Chris Amer on guitar, as well as my good friend and mighty fiddle player, Bernadette Kellermann, on strings. I was also very fortunate to have the excellent Pàdruig Morrison feature on accordion for one of the tracks. Christoffer of course joined and recorded on the drums.

The final track of the album, Notes You Wrote, is a song that means a lot to me. The lyrics are taken from greeting cards that my grandmother, Audrey Sumpton, has given to me for every celebratory occasion you could think of over the years. She has such a gift for writing the most loving messages, all gently threaded with imagery of nature, birdsong and the seasons. I always felt like her words were too good to be kept inside a card and I wanted to give her a voice in the world. I adapted them for music with the help of the vocalist on the track, Dina Dánialsdóttir. Dina is originally from the Faroe Islands but now lives in Denmark.

It was important for me to establish a connection between both Denmark and Scotland in the album, and to include musicians from both countries, as the music does not solely have its roots in one place. I feel deeply grounded in my Scottish folk roots, but I have discovered that music comes most naturally to me when I let in other cultures, to shape, inform and challenge what I know, as well as my understanding of music: how it can function in society, its ability to unite people from very different backgrounds, and its undeniable ability to establish deep human connections.

Through Ashes to Art I want to celebrate connection, collaboration, perseverance and hope. I find these qualities also in nature, and am inspired that from a tiny seed in the dirt, grows something that is beautiful, perfect, and in itself a small piece of art.

Album Artwork by Sissel Geyti. Album Design by Andreas Bevan

www.luciehendry.bandcamp.com
www.luciehendry.com
www.youtube.com/@luciehendry

📷 Photos by ABCassidy Photography

Last month I attended my third North Atlantic Song Convention (NASC) – a formal title for what’s a lively and often informal gathering. The event has been running since 2020 and it’s a weekend packed with singers, songs and discussions about unaccompanied traditional singing. This year’s participants came from Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Isle of Man, Shetland, England, Sweden, Norway, Lithuania, Canada and the United States (Maine). I met a couple of young Scottish singers who hadn’t been before and were revelling in the mix of folk and the chance to listen to and participate in such a variety of singing. The venue, the Scottish Storytelling Centre in Edinburgh, really lends itself to this kind of event: people flow round the building between panel discussions in the auditorium to workshops in the library and singing circles in the large space by the café, sometimes breaking off to have a quiet chat in a corner. There’s a real sense of community as folk interact across the weekend, former connections are renewed and new ones begun.

This year’s keynote talk was given by English singer Angeline Morrison. She spoke of growing up with English folksongs while being aware of her Black identity, giving as an example the powerful ballad ‘The Brown Girl’ (Roud 180, Child 292). This had been a ‘talisman’ for Angeline since she was a teenage folkie, imagining herself as the main character rejected by her lover ‘because I was so brown’. We also heard moving stories of her recent project involving extensive research in archives as she searched for evidence of the history of Black culture in England, and its musical expressions. This resulted in her album The Sorrow Songs: Folk Songs of Black British Experience. Angeline’s talk made me think more deeply about the demands traditional songs make on us, not just as stories but also in the emotional connection they evoke in the singer and the listener.

📷 Angeline Morrison (by ABCassidy Photography)

Panel sessions with various themes ran throughout the weekend covering diverse topics such as learning and passing on songs, practical strategies for encouraging participatory singing, and the opportunities offered by UNESCO’s ‘Living Heritage’ Framework in preserving and promoting traditional singing practices. For me, a highlight was the panel on the Irish language sean-nós (‘old style’) solo singing tradition, with Órla Ní Fhinneadha, Ellen de Búrca and Cathal Ó Curráin. All three performed beautiful examples of the repertoire. They also gave us an insight into the learning and teaching of sean-nós, including in schools, the genealogy of transmission, and the competition environment. We learned about the primary role of storytelling in the songs. The intimate nature of the idiom was illustrated by Ellen’s singing from behind a chair as she held on to the back – apparently a common stance for sean-nós singers – as a means of support. The focused nature of the topic and the thoughtful way that the singers shared their experience and contributions from the audience made this a rich session.

📷 Panel session (by ABCassidy Photography)

There was a menu of workshops including Maine worksongs, Swedish, Norwegian and Scottish Gaelic songs. I joined Steve Byrne’s on Scots song. Making no concessions for a group of participants with a variety of languages and experience, Steve taught 5 songs dense with Scots language: ‘Moss o Burreldale’, ‘Ballad of the Speaking Heart’, ‘Brisk Young Lad’, ‘We’re aa Noddin’ and ‘Hey ca’ thro’. We all jumped in and learned, I suppose, by immersion! I love singing in Scots – and in songs like these tunes and lyrics feel tightly fused and really rewarding to sing. The item I knew of but had not sung before was the humorous ‘We’re aa Noddin’. Steve gave us the version which came via Robert Burns, pointing out the theme (drunkenness) and the dangers of the chorus in becoming a likely ‘earworm’. When I came home, I did some research and went down some interesting rabbit holes! The ‘nodding song’ seems to have had extraordinary success during the 18th-19th century in many versions including beyond Scotland, the rhythmic repetitive chorus lending itself to parodies of all sorts. ‘We’re all nodding’ even became the title of a lithograph of 1861 depicting a sleepy soldiers on horseback. It’s a reminder of how traditional songs can be a rewarding portal through which to explore the past, and how malleable they can be as they’re adapted for different contexts.

📷 Workshop with Steve Byrne (by ABCassidy Photography)

While larger singing sessions were also going on, at the intimate song circle I went to there was encouragement but no pressure to sing, and no ‘policing’ of song choices. This was a good opportunity for younger participants, including some Swedish students unused to singing in public, to try out their voices and their songs. I used it as a chance to sing a couple of songs I’d not done in a while to see if I could remember the words. I was reminded that the song circle format is a rich resource not only for ‘performance’ but also learning, practising and sharing stories in a supportive setting. And not least that listening is as important as singing.

📷 Singers at a small song circle (by ABCassidy Photography)

I couldn’t make the Friday evening pub session but heard next day that it had been a great night. One of the highlights was an hour-long impromptu flow of mouth-music (puirt-à-beul) and dancing songs from different singing cultures, which Brian Ó hEadhra dubbed a ‘puirt-off’. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is reprised next year! A Saturday night concert offered guests an opportunity for a more formal presentation of their songs, but this, too, demonstrated the collective ethos of the weekend, with participation across the performances and including the audience.

I came away reflecting once more on the lives of songs and their power to bring the past into the present and connect us across cultures. In June I’m heading to Aberdeen to take part in NASC’s big sister, the North Atlantic Fiddle Convention, to play, learn and talk about tunes and dancing. The format of both festivals is a rich mix of activities and opportunities to experience the traditional music of our North Atlantic neighbours and form musical friendships between these countries. Meeting and sharing music face-to-face in this way highlights contrasts and commonalities which only deepen our understanding of the factors that shape and sustain traditions. NASC is now run in partnership with the Traditional Music Forum of Scotland, and I found myself thinking of what it takes to organise events like this, and the crucial part played by organisations and institutions in – literally – keeping the show on the road. There’s an inclusivity and a democratic ethos to NASC which bodes well for its own longevity, and which I’m sure is the key to our individual and collective efforts to cultivating our traditional arts well into the future.

📷 Song circle (by ABCassidy Photography)

📷 Photo above by Cami Lemoine

One of my favourite poets, Norman MacCaig, had a unique gift for noticing, capturing and celebrating the beauty of ordinary life. A tree or a frog or a coffee or a landscape or an overheard conversation are all subjects deserving of their own poem, a poem that doesn’t try to be profound in a contrived way, but simply draws out the beauty inherent in ordinary things. His poems help us notice how remarkable the ordinary can be.

Danny Nicolson had a similar instinct, but his tool was the camera rather than the pen. Now in his 90s, he spent his working life as a joiner in his native Orkney Islands. A meticulous attention to detail, amazing work ethic, and trustworthy character earned him a strong reputation, and the islands are still littered with examples of his craftsmanship in people’s homes, offices, farms, churches and even the BBC Orkney studios.

At some point in the mid-20th century, he invested some of his wages in a film camera and became one of Orkney’s then small number of amateur photographers. Over the following decades, he noticed, captured and celebrated the beauty of ordinary life, building up an amazing library of film photographs of the people, places, objects and stories of Orkney through the 1960s, 70s, and 80s. For years, the collection only existed in the form of film ‘slides’ until, recently, one of his sons patiently digitised every single image, unlocking access to this amazing window into life of a past era.

My name is Chris Amer and Danny Nicolson is my grandfather. I’m also a Scottish guitar player living in Glasgow. I play electric guitar, acoustic guitar, pedal steel and a unique 7-string theorbed tenor guitar that I designed with Taran Guitars in Fife.

www.taranguitars.co.uk/chris-amer

Like all of Danny Nicolson’s grandchildren, I got to enter his world in one immersive moment by receiving access to this vast, hitherto unseen photo library all at once. It was amazing, it felt like stepping into his mind and looking back, literally, at a lifetime’s worth of memories. It was a window into a reality that was very familiar, and at the same time, very far away. I recognised so much: familiar people, relatives and family members, the places that they lived, landscapes, townscapes and interiors that I’ve seen all my life. In my mind, the feeling of ‘memory’ was triggered, even though I wasn’t even alive when the photographs were taken. It was like I was getting to ‘remember’ memories that weren’t actually my memories. It was intense nostalgia for a time period I didn’t live through.

It’s easy to romanticise the past. Sometimes it’s the safest escape when life in the present is difficult or anxious or unideal. One of my favourite writers, C S Lewis, has written in several essays about the phenomenon of nostalgia as being the inaccurate misplacing of the ‘ideal’. We seem to feel that life should be better than it is: the present isn’t good enough, the future is too uncertain, so the past can become the place where we project all our desires for the good life. “It must have been so much better back then”.

I’ve learned that (perhaps due to my personality type) I am very predisposed to doing that. Looking through my grandfather’s photo collection was interesting and aesthetically enriching, yes, but it also provided me a way to ‘escape’ back to the past, back to the more ideal reality I thought was there.

That experience has fuelled my music-making in recent years, and my new album Making Peace With What Is, is a collection of musical sketches that came out of trips down my grandfather’s memory lane. The title, Making Peace With What Is, might seem a little bit wordy, but it’s a phrase that’s been in my mind as I’ve been processing the photos in relation to my own life. I’ve had to reconcile myself to the present day whilst feeling nostalgia for a past that feels strangely familiar and which actually seems much nicer, but which I can never actually visit. It’s been a process of literally ‘making peace’ with what actually is.

The music is largely multi-tracked guitar. I played layers of acoustic guitar, electric guitar, tenor guitar, pedal steel and bass guitar. As guitar is my main voice, my process has always been to compose on it, and so the music came together at home as I sketched and layered ideas. I recorded the music at Solas Sound in Glasgow in two ‘sessions’ a year apart. Gus Stirrat, the engineer, captures the sound of my tenor guitar like nobody else. The first five tracks of the album were recorded in summer 2022, and the latter five in summer 2023. Originally, I didn’t even think of the music as a coherent album, but as two separate EPs. Only laterally, as I’ve reflected on my process, did I realise that, actually, all the music came from the same source.

As a (part-time, sort of) jazz musician, I’ve always been comfortable improvising, and the music is a genuine mix of composed melodies and improvised lines. The main melodies and harmonic structures are all composed and laid out in advance, but I deliberately left lots of ‘space’ to fill with improvisation. Throughout the album, there are sections where I’ve layered up multiple improvised electric and tenor guitar voices. I love that these are unique moments in time that are unrepeatable (they never come out the same way twice), which feels really appropriate for a project all about moments in time that can’t be re-lived. I tended to do everything in one take and then leave it as is.

One of my favourite guitar players is Bill Frisell – I think he’s able to deeply encapsulate feelings and spaces in his playing. I really hear the vast horizons of the Midwest USA in his sound, but also his humility and understated character. I’ve always chased ‘feelings’ in my guitar playing rather than specific ‘licks’ – one of my friends and collaborators said that it reminds them of brush strokes on a canvas. I also invited my friend Stephen Henderson, an exceptional drummer, to add some drum parts to the second five tracks. You can really hear the difference that makes. I feel like Stephen punctuates (like highlighting in black ink) the music and brings out the best of it. I love what he brought to the sound world.

Tracks like Arable Concrete (track 1) have an airy, imaginative quality. This track came from looking at photographs of new towns and post-war building projects when they were brand new. It’s striking how clean and optimistic they look – they were ‘arable’ – fertile with potential.

Living In A Filter (track 7) tries to capture the feeling of ‘horizon’. One of my favourite photographs (which I chose for the front cover) is of my Granny Molly and her four children (one of which is my mum) standing on a cliff looking at a sea and sky that seems to stretch limitlessly outwards. The lower resolution of the film photo makes the horizon less defined and detailed, but richer in imaginative potential. Stephen added an amazing Steve Gadd style drum part which simultaneously creates a sense of forward motion and stillness.

Short Ago (track 8) is all about my great-grandfather George Rendall. He was a dairy farmer in Orkney and I last saw him on his 100th birthday back in 2002. He had a wicked sense of humour, and stories of his quiet but lively quips, jokes and pranks are still told in the family. The phrase ‘short ago’ is one I’ve heard many Orkney relatives use. Stephen again brought the track alive with a really cool drum part. I remember my performance direction in the studio was something like, “think metronome meets drum and bass” – he nailed it first time.

The album was mostly multi-tracked guitar because I’ve always found it easier to make music on my own. Reading Bill Frisell’s biography made me feel even more of an affinity with him, as he talked about his shy personality and how that made him hesitant at times. I definitely resonate with that – it’s taken me a lot of years to build enough confidence to ask people to play gigs of my own music. Amazingly though, I was able to launch this album at Celtic Connections this year with an amazing six-piece ensemble featuring some of my favourite musicians and friends – Matt Carmichael, Fergus McCreadie, Gus Stirrat, Mhairi Marwick and Stephen Henderson. It was an experience I’ll never forget. In the year ahead, I’m really looking forward to some more performance opportunities – especially a slot at the St Magnus Festival in Orkney in June which will feel ‘right’ on many levels.

If any of this intrigues you, please feel free to visit my website or bandcamp site where you can get a copy of the album, and drop me a wee follow on socials to hear about upcoming gigs etc.
Thanks so much for reading 🙂

www.chrisamer.com
chrisamer.bandcamp.com

📷 Photo above by Cami Lemoine

📷 Photo by Alan Donaldson

The Button Boxes and Moothies Festival 2025 lit up Aberdeen this November with exactly the kind of warmth, music, and community spirit that makes traditional festivals so special. As someone now in my fourth year studying Performance in Traditional Music, specialising in the concertina, I’m used to lively sessions and gatherings — but this festival stood out as something truly unique. From the moment I arrived, it felt like the entire building was humming with energy, curiosity, and the shared love of free-reed instruments.

This year, I also had the privilege of hosting two workshops: one on Scottish session tunes, and another on accompaniment techniques. Teaching is still a fairly new step for me, so being given the trust and space to lead at such a well-loved festival was both exciting and meaningful.

Workshops That Turned Into Conversations

My session-tunes workshop explored how to navigate fast, tune-heavy sessions with confidence — breaking down phrasing, stylistic details, and some classic Scottish repertoire. The accompaniment workshop focused on building texture, supportive harmony, and rhythmic ideas without overshadowing the melody.

But what really made both sessions special was the atmosphere in the room. People came with open minds, great questions, and a real eagerness to exchange ideas. Instead of feeling like I was standing at the front of a classroom, it felt like we were all part of the same musical conversation, contributing from different experiences and styles. That collaborative spirit ran through the entire weekend.

One little highlight for me was performing on the same programme as Allan MacDonald. His influence on the Traditional Music course at the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland (RCS) is well known, so seeing my name alongside his felt like a gentle full-circle moment in my time as a student. It’s always grounding to realise how connected the tradition is, and how special it is to share spaces with the people who’ve shaped it.

📷 Photo by Barb Briggs

A Festival Held Together by Great Organisation: Frances Wilkins

A huge amount of the festival’s success has to be credited to Frances Wilkins, the Director of the festival. Her organisation, vision, and attention to detail were at the heart of everything that made the weekend run so smoothly.

Frances managed to bring together an impressive line-up of artists, facilitate workshops, manage venues, coordinate schedules, and ensure that every performer felt fully supported — and she did all of this with calmness, clarity, and genuine warmth. It was obvious how much dedication went into creating an environment where musicians could thrive and audiences could feel at home.

Her passion for free-reed traditions and her commitment to encouraging players of all levels shaped the tone of the entire event. Every room was set up thoughtfully, every transition felt seamless, and every artist I spoke to mentioned how supported they felt. It’s no exaggeration to say that Frances’s work held the whole festival together and allowed the rest of us to simply enjoy making music.

Concertina Conversations and Female Representation

Another massive joy of the weekend was spending time with fellow concertina players Sandra Kerr, Eva Carroll, Méabh Mulligan, Alex Wade, and Frances Wilkins. They are all incredible musicians, and having the chance to talk technique, share tunes, and reflect on our different musical journeys was genuinely energising.

Seeing such strong female representation in the free-reed world was uplifting. Traditional music has been evolving steadily in that direction, but moments like this, make the change feel real and visible. It created a sense of belonging and excitement for the future of the instrument.

Aberdeen’s Musical Heartbeat

Throughout the festival, Aberdeen’s local traditional music community shone brightly. The city’s musicians — box players, moothie players, fiddlers, and multi-instrumentalists — brought a distinctive North-East character to the weekend. Whether it was polished on-stage sets or hallway sessions, you could hear the depth of the region’s musical identity everywhere.

The festival felt rooted in the city’s tradition while welcoming influences from all over.

📷 Photo by Barb Briggs

A Welcoming Festival From Start to Finish

The real magic of the Button Boxes and Moothies Festival was its openness. Whether someone walked in with decades of experience or a brand-new instrument, there was a place for them. The kindness and encouragement across workshops, performances, and sessions made the whole weekend feel like a gathering of friends — even among people who had just met.

For me personally, the festival represented everything I love about traditional music: teaching, learning, performing, connecting, and celebrating the instrument I’ve dedicated my studies to. I left Aberdeen feeling inspired, encouraged, and grateful.

A Weekend to Remember

As I head into the final part of my studies at RCS, this festival will stand out as a highlight of my year. It brought together community, creativity, and tradition in the best possible way. And it reminded me — once again — that music grows strongest when shared.

A huge congratulations to Frances Wilkins for bringing this unforgettable weekend to life, and to everyone who played, listened, learned, or simply joined the journey.

Here’s to the next gathering of button boxes, moothies, and the wonderful people who play them.

📷 Photo by Somhairle MacDonald

Hi, I’m Kim Richards, and I live and work in the beautiful West Coast village of Ullapool. When people ask what I do, it takes me a moment to decide what to say and what role to prioritise as this changes regularly.

In no particular order, I’m a secondary school art teacher, music tutor, singer, artist, musician, designer, mum, and student. Life is busy, but life is certainly never boring. Creativity is at the heart of most of the things I love to do, and I thrive on learning, reflecting and adapting. I’m utterly inspired by my surroundings, especially up here in the Highlands of Scotland. The environments around me have been the basis of most of my creative work to date, in my artwork and in my music.

Leaves that Fly – album by Kim Richards

A bit like everyone else, my life took a big turn in 2020. After 2 weeks of becoming a new mum, we were in lockdown. My environment became ever more important during this time, and it sparked a flurry of creativity. It also offered a rare chance to slow down a bit, and to build on ideas with time and with space in between.

I’ve always split my time between art and music and tried to find the right balance, all the way back to my time studying at The Glasgow School of Art. The thinking space during lockdown led me to the realisation that they don’t have to be separate for me, and I wanted to find a way to merge them together.

The Point and Fishing Boats (mixed media on canvas) – by Kim Richards

It was around this time that I realised if I wanted to pursue new creative projects and outlets, I needed to find a structure and set aside time for this, or life would fling me in different directions at full speed. I started thinking about the prospect of studying again as I liked the idea of having set timeframes and deadlines to work towards. Over the years, I had heard echoes of folk mentioning completing some or all of the modules on a course with a title that resonated with me – Music and the Environment. As I researched further, it was clear that the MA Music and the Environment course encapsulated so much of what I believe to be important for my own inspiration, and for my own creativity. Now, some might think it mad to begin a Masters Degree with pre-school children, but to me, it made perfect sense, and thankfully my patient husband supported me in this endeavour!

Being able to do the masters course part time has been a huge benefit for me, and having the adaptability of choosing how many modules per semester I can undertake. Due to having a busy workload outwith the course, I have not been able to attend all the scheduled tutorials, but these are recorded which has meant that it has been possible to keep up with important discussions and coursework.  I am now two years in and have just completed a module working on a collaborative project led by MA Music and the Environment Programme Leader Simon Bradley.

October feels like a long time ago now that I apprehensively clicked the button to join the Teams meeting to meet my fellow musical collaborators for the first time. The use of technology was a bonus for our group considering Gail lives across the water in Boston, Massachusetts, and Rob, resides near Newcastle. Thus, technology made otherwise impossible collaboration possible. Waldron (2013) argues that online collaboration promotes heightened metacognitive awareness because musicians must verbalise and justify their creative decisions more explicitly, and I believe the online setting strengthened my communication and collaboration skills as I had to articulate my musical ideas more clearly.  It was clear from early on that we were a diverse group in terms of our musical styles with Gail coming from a jazz background and Rob with his cross-over in jazz, folk and indie styles.

Our group was given a brief to produce a piece of music for The Scottish Wildlife Trust as part of their Sea the Connection initiative. Launched in 2024, Sea the Connection is a three year marine engagement project that aims to increase ocean literacy across Scotland. Some of its main aims are empowering communities to participate in marine decision making and policy conversations and raising awareness and connections to people’s relationship to the sea. As a group we discovered that composing a piece that highlighted both a maritime issue, a sense of connection and the beauty of the sea was at the forefront of our ideas.

A landmark moment in our collaboration came when we were asked to present our initial ideas to Elouise Dalziel, the Marine Policy Inclusion Officer of the Scottish Wildlife Trust. This gave us our first official deadline and spurred us on to start our creation of the music. The meeting with Elouise was very insightful and we gained more information to help us build on the theme of our composition. Some key takeaways from this meeting were that the initiative is keen to make marine policy accessible to all and to spark conversations. They particularly want to connect with Gaelic voices and get people connected with the sea in fun, engaging, joyful and meaningful ways. So we were keen to add elements of hope, and a sense of community and place to our piece.

I composed a Dm chord sequence in jig time as we thought this traditional Scottish edge might be more accessible to listeners in Scotland. Rob contacted David De La Haye to seek permission to use his underwater recordings of seals and other marine life as part of our project. This tied in well with the theme of the sea. Rob mixed the recordings together and this was the first time we heard the merging of our sounds. In order to reach Gaelic speakers and link the composition to Scottish culture, I thought adding a Gaelic refrain over the jig chords might work. I imagined giving a voice to all humans and creatures that use the sea. The lyrics that I kept coming back to were “Save our Sea” or “Save our Ocean”. In English, these lyrics could be portrayed as preachy and potentially cheesy, but in the Gaelic language the words “Saor an Cuan” (Save our Ocean) sound beautiful and add interest to the piece. I created a melody for the lyrics and added a harmony to create a sense of more than one voice.

When it came to the overall instrumentation and ‘sound’ of the piece, there were questions about how far we should move away from the traditional Scottish sound we should allow ourselves to go, especially from Gail and her husband, Lorenzo, who offered to add bass and vocals to the piece, with their operatic and jazz backgrounds. As our musical piece was about connections, journeys and a sense of togetherness, we were very keen for each style to come through. It also could contribute to the accessibility of the overall piece, thus reaching more people. We agreed that we would create a set of tunes starting with a jig into a reel. Gail created a chord sequence for the first part of the reel and these chords inspired my writing of the notes for the reel and a second part with chords. It wasn’t long before Gail recorded the tunes on the saxophone and Lorenzo added bass lines. It was the first time I had heard any tunes of mine played on a brass instrument. I found this part of the project really exciting as it started to feel like our group was starting to ‘play music together’. I gathered words and phrases that I thought linked with our theme and selected the most relevant to create a call and response element. I thought this would further emphasise the feel of connection to the sea as it likened that of a sea shanty. It also worked well within the themes of our group as it brought in more voices, almost creating the idea of people giving a voice on marine policy.

Rob nominated himself to do the mixing of our piece as he had the most experience of this being a mixing engineer and musician. He added wonderful rhythmic touches with his guitar, and mixed these with his own percussion playing and some provided by Gail.

Flexibility was a key element of our collaboration when juggling different time zones, work commitments and ideas. I learned that musical ideas improve by drafting, revisiting, and reshaping themes. This aligns with Schön’s (1983) concept of reflection-in-action that emphasises learning through ongoing experimentation and thoughtful adjustment. The process taught me that embracing uncertainty can lead to richer musical outcomes.

The lessons learned from this online musical collaboration, ranging from improved communication and technical preparation to adaptability, time management, and emotional awareness, will directly inform my future practice. These insights have deepened my understanding of what it means to collaborate musically in a digital space, equipping me with the skills and mindset needed for more effective and rewarding creative work.

The composition is called A Continuum Between Shores which I think encompasses the project and what we were trying to achieve to fulfil the brief. When I think back to October and my initial worries about working in a group entirely online, I feel much more positive about this way of working, as it seems that it does in fact work well. Working alongside musicians from different backgrounds and styles of music has enlightened me to new ways of thinking and made me feel more comfortable about working outside my comfort zone. I think our final piece has lots of interest and works as almost a triptych in structure. We have a variety of instruments running through it with flute, whistles, bass guitar, acoustic guitar, piano, and saxophone, to name a few! I have thoroughly enjoyed the experience of working alongside Simon and Elouise, and in musical collaboration with Rob and Gail. I am excited to work further with Rob and Gail on the piece in order to bring it on further to reach its full potential. Our collaboration and blending of creative perspectives have brought different influences, leading to new sounds that I could not have created alone.

I am fortunate to have the ability to undertake this course, and I am excited to begin the final stage – a personal project where I will develop my own musical and artistic composition in the form of an album and corresponding artwork, hopefully! I know that weighing up the decision to take the leap into further education can be challenging, but my experience has been extremely rewarding and satisfying, and I feel so much more equipped and inspired to pursue my creative endeavours.

www.kimrichards.co.uk

https://kimrichardsmusic.bandcamp.com/album/leaves-that-fly

MA Music and the Environment course

Enroll for January or September start, full time or part time.

References

Schön, D.A. (1983) The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action
[Online]. Available from:
https://raggeduniversity.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/1_x_Donald-A.-Schon-The-Reflective-Practitioner_-How-Professionals-Think-In-Action-Basic-Books-1984_redactedaa_compressed3.pdf

Scottish Wildlife Trust (n.d.). Sea the Connection [Website]. Available at:
https://scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk/our-work/our-projects/living-seas/sea-the-connection/

Waldron, J. (2013). ‘User-Generated Content, YouTube and Participatory Culture on the
Web: Music Learning and Teaching in Two Contrasting Online Communities’ [Online].
Available from:
https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14613808.2013.772131?needAccess=true#d1e323

📷 Sheila Sapkota by Louis DeCarlo

A rambling reflection on a success story which continues to move forward.

I am a community musician and now, in my sixth decade of life, look back on the various musical meanderings I have encountered along the way. I have been so lucky to meet some amazing musicians and facilitators on my pathway through a life spent in Edinburgh, Selkirk, Orkney and Nepal. I started Riddell Fiddles (a music group based in the Scottish Borders) just over 22 years ago with the aim that ‘everyone who wants to be’ is involved in learning, playing and performing traditional music whatever the barriers along the way. Previous to that I taught at the traditional music school at Selkirk High. At that time, in 2003, it was really just as “a wee fun group” at a time when there were no other comparable facilities in the area for learning to play traditional music. Twenty two years on Riddell Fiddles (named after an area near Selkirk) has introduced hundreds of people from all backgrounds, generations and ability levels to traditional fiddling and the sheer delight of making music together. The group has toured at home and internationally (even made it to Cape Breton twice and Barbados as well as to our twin town’s festival in Bavaria a few times). Our website www.riddellfiddles.scot is a known traditional music resource the world over.

📷 Riddell Fiddles in Barbados, 2017

I attribute Riddell Fiddles’ success to “the power of the community group”. The right people just seemed to be there at the right time. Assisted by music notator, arranger, composer and guitarist Donald Knox, the late and much missed double bassist Tony Manning, Borders fiddle tutor Louise Douglas, percussionist David Scott and group administrator Karen Hendry we spread our own particular brand of musical mayhem all over the world. It has taken up a lot of time and become a large part of my working life, my social life and my mission to teach young people who might otherwise not access fiddle lessons. The rewards, however, have been great. Some of Donald’s tunes are played all over the world with Mothers of St Ann’s a particular favourite – written when we asked him for an easy tune which we could all play whilst attending a course at St Ann’s Gaelic College in Cape Breton, Canada in 2006.

There has been lots of support over the years from various locally based musicians, such as Amy Geddes, Shona Mooney, Catriona Macdonald, Ian Lowthian and Iain Fraser, whilst visiting fiddlers including Jenna Reid, Gordon Gunn, Bruce MacGregor and Bruce Molsky, the late Jerry Holland etc. have all ‘popped in’.

I myself didn’t discover Scottish fiddle music until I was in my teens, having been classically trained on the viola, and as much as I  appreciated that instrument’s tone, I wish I had been involved with traditional music earlier. I think that’s where my drive to teach fiddle comes from. If there had been all the fiddle groups and things like the Scots Music Group and their Youth Engagement Project or the Fèis Rois events when I was a child, it would have been quite amazing. I am so thankful at the opportunity I had to have free viola lessons at school from the age of eight (in those days you were ‘selected’ and had a wee music test). Thank goodness I had a good day that day. Thank you to Mr Samuel my viola teacher who wangled it, all those years ago, so that we got a lesson every single day. I wish I could have told him how much I appreciated his tuition and what uses I have put my musical tuition to. I regard myself as a mediocre player with a good ear and a penchant for slow airs. I often feel that many of the performances I get are due to my ‘banter’ at the microphone and my slow and simple dance instructions (the words assimilated into my brain after years of playing with the late Peebles accordionist and dance caller James Paterson).

Music needs to be for all and although the Scottish Borders has slightly better music provision for young people than some areas, I do worry at the patchy, haphazard provision throughout Scotland. So many councils are cutting music lessons as an easy option. I feel my mission is to work with the community centres and schools and run free groups and provide instruments. The Scots dialect is widely spoken in our area and it’s continuation and use in our rhythms and songs is so important.

📷 A young musician from Riddell Fiddles

To increase my competence at running the group I, rather ambitiously, embarked on a music degree with the University of Highlands and Islands in 2014 at the elderly age of 54!) and with the support of the UHI staff and especially Anna Wendy Stevenson, achieved a BA Honours in Music as well as learning so many skills and making so many musical friends and contacts of all ages. I also learned about sound recording – an invaluable skill when working with community groups. I got so enthusiastic about my studies that I also did the MA in Music and Environment with UHI and rediscovered a musical ancestor (Honoria Galwey) and her Donegal pathway along the way. This led to many trips to the Inishowen Peninsula with the group.

Thanks to Margaret Robertson (another UHI contact) of Hjaltibonhoga there was an invitation to play in the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo which was taken up by four members of Riddell Fiddles with subsequent tours by myself with the Hjaltibonhoga Community Group. What an honour! Yes – I can now march and play the fiddle and have this skill ingrained into all my young learners.

Young players from Riddell Fiddles were amongst those involved in the Cranston Fiddle project – a Lottery-Funded multimedia show built around my fiddle, which once belonged to William Cranston, who was badly injured during the First World War – the same conflict which killed four of his brothers. Other multimedia ventures include our ‘Battle of Philiphaugh’ presentations with shadow puppets, poetry and music in 2018.

📷 Riddell Fiddles heading to a gig

This year (December 2025) seems a suitable time to reflect – I have stepped back from the main group whilst maintaining focus on the younger groups and starter groups of learners including musicians who are learning disabled and whose access to music often faces barriers. The adult group of Riddell Fiddles is now fully fledged and have launched themselves as ‘Tweed Fiddles’ (much easier to spell). My final concerts with them at Fèis Rois, Ullapool in May and at Melrose were a success – thank you to Fiona Dalgetty and Christian Gamauf for being so supportive.

Apart from focussing Riddell Fiddles on the youth projects, a new production entitled The Meteoric Rise of the Little Egret is being put together. This project combines my lifelong interest in ornithology with my musical interests as yet another multimedia production (helped by photographs and film from the local branch of the Scottish Ornithology Club) is launched – celebrating the success of that iconic white heron-like bird with the yellow feet. . It’s colonisation of the UK and our River Tweed catchment area is wonderful to see – whilst illustrating the sobering fact that their presence here in such numbers is due to their traditional Mediterranean haunts just being far too hot (climate change). With new music and a select band of musicians we plan to perform in places as iconic as the 12th century chapter house at Dryburgh Abbey and Abbotsford house during Easter 2026. Thanks to Destination Tweed and the Lottery Heritage Fund for funding this.

I would also like to thank the Traditional Music Forum and Dave Francis for always being there for us, for including us, for all their advice over the years and for making us feel part of something big. It was so heartening to see the rapturous applause he received at the recent Trad Music Awards. He has been our voice in the traditional music scene.

The Trad Awards and Simon Thoumire have also so helped both myself and the group’s profile – with the Trad Awards Nominations and Awards over the years as well as my induction into the ‘Hall of Fame’ for Services to the Community in 2015 – such an honour. One of Riddell Fiddles’ proudest moments was winning the Community Project of the Year in 2021 for the work we were doing in Bannerfield and Burnfoot Housing Estates in Selkirk and Hawick respectively. I do wish I had prepared for winning though as my televised speech was rather unprepared. This weekend (Saturday 6th December) we play at the Xmas fair in Selkirk with the Hawick young folk coming through to support the Selkirk group. I just so enjoy these gigs and the support from the community. My worry for the future is that a lot of these musical opportunities are disappearing and young people in these rural areas are struggling to achieve access to long term teaching and traditional music. I take a lot of pleasure in watching my niece Sally Simpson’s career in music as well as that of Catriona Macdonald’s pupil Eryn Rae from the Scottish Borders. Both of these players thread their musical ways in a difficult and unpredictable industry.

Another mission in my ‘partial’ retirement is to sort out the website which urgently needs a facelift. This treasure trove, used all over the world, needs to be updated and proofed for the future – for all to continue using.

With a lot of community performances and some bigger gigs over the festive season I do reflect that the local Christmas fair with the young learners gives me every bit of satisfaction as the well paid ‘posh hotel’ gig. Long may it continue.

Thank you to my pupils, the musicians and teachers along the way and to my borders friends who have and continue to be part of our musical journey.

Sheila Sapkota, founder, organiser & teacher, Riddell Fiddles 

I really love the strathspey, The Miller of Drone, and have been playing it a lot this past 6 months, getting to appreciate its personality and foibles. It is such a lyrical tune, and responds delightfully to either being driven hard, or gently coaxed. I got to wondering where the tune hailed from. Where is Drone (or Dron, as it is sometimes spelled)? Who was the miller? And does the tune have any link with the bawdy C18th song? And so began an excursion down a rabbit hole of old maps, books, photographs and recordings …… and a fair bit of chin scratching ….………

The Tune

First, to the tune. Here is a beautiful contemporary version by the talented duo Kevin Lees and Sebastian Bloch of The Good Tune.

Here is an old recording of The Miller of Drone briskly played by Anndra Reid from Canna, recorded by Dr John Lorne Campbell at some point during the period 1940-1960.

John Lorne Campbell on Canna
Image: Tobar and Dualchais

The earliest published version of The Miller of Drone that I have been able to find is in John Pringle’s Collection of Reels, Strathspeys & Jigs (1801). Did he write the tune? In Anne Alburger’s 1983 book Scottish Fiddlers and their Music she points out that Pringle didn’t claim that he composed it – there are two other tunes on the same page which he identifies as his own, but not The Miller of Drone. Nathaniel Gow published the tune in his Gow’s Complete Repository (Part 2) in 1802, claiming that he composed it himself. It is even claimed sometimes that the tune was in fact written by Niel Gow – though I think this is unlikely as if it was the case, Nathaniel would have had to have claimed it as his own whilst his father was still alive – a snub I doubt he would have done.

John Pringle’s 1801 Collection
Image: Highland Music Trust

The traditional music publisher and collector John Glen (1833-1904) was well known for his strong opinions and his scepticism of the Gow’s compositional claims. He thought that it was unlikely that the strathspey had been written by either Niel or Nathaniel Gow. Time and ongoing research have softened the accepted views on the Gow’s claimed compositions, and have downplayed John Glen’s more extreme accusations of the Gow’s tune piracy. Although no-one can definitively identify the tune’s composer, personally I would tend to err on it being Nathaniel Gow.

Here is James Scott Skinner’s manuscript version of The Miller of Drone. He obviously held the tune in very high regard – so much so that when he published his own composition, The Miller o’ Hirn, he boasted that “‘The Miller o’ Drone’ will drone no more”. Whilst The Miller o’ Hirn is itself a fine strathspey, it would appear that The Miller of Drone more than held its own against its new rival — and still does.

Image: James Scott Skinner Collection, University of Aberdeen

Another interesting aside is to note that in the C19th the Strathspey migrated to Ireland (as so many Scottish tunes have done) to become the reel, The First Month of Summer and the related tune The First Month of Spring. The First Month of Summer was first published by Francis O’Neill in his 1903 book Music of Ireland: 1,850 Melodies.

Music of Ireland: 1,850 Melodies, Francis O’Neill 1903; No. 1214, p. 229.

But there is also a much older tune called The Miller of Dron – a jig in the key of F, written down ca. 1741 by the Edinburgh fiddler and ‘Writing Master’ David Young in what is usually referred to as the ‘MacFarlane Manuscript’.

From: A Collection of Scotch Airs with the latest Variations. David Young ca. 1741
National Museum of Scotland Manuscript, NLS ms 2085. p,275

Where is Drone?

Being from Perthshire myself, and with Nathaniel Gow being the likely composer, I of course naturally assumed that it must be the Dron located in the hills on the north side of the Firth of Tay between Perth and Dundee. Stobie’s 1783 map of Perthshire shows Dron, and the adjacent Dron Hill (middle top of the below map).

Stobie’s 1783 map of Perthshire
National Library of Scotland

However, Stobie’s 1783 map doesn’t indicate that there was a mill there. The first Ordnance Survey map of 1867 shows by that time there was a mill. There are also no records that I could find showing the Perthshire Dron being spelled “Drone.” I began to get a hunch that this might not be the correct location and that I might have to look elsewhere.

Ordnance Survey 6” to the mile map, 1867
National Library of Scotland

There is a Drone Hill in Coldingham, Berwickshire, and an Aberdeenshire version of the strathspey is titled “The Miller of Drum” potentially indicating that the mill might be in the north-east. However old maps show no mill in either location, so I discounted both these options.

Another avenue proved more promising. The current OS map shows that on the River Eden, close to Dairsie in north-east Fife, there was once a “Dron Mill.” The placename gets its first recorded mention in 1207 as “Drun” in a document setting out the villagers owing teinds of wheat to Leuchars kirk. A later judicial proceeding in 1484 shows a legal dispute involving the “Mill of Drone”. In the Blaeu Atlas of Scotland of 1654, James Gordon shows the place as “Drone Mill”. Subsequent maps show place names including Easter, Wester, North, South and Mickle Dron. Throughout the 15th to the 18th centuries the place name’s spelling alternated between Dron and Drone, settling eventually around 1800s to Dron. The last recorded use of the spelling “Drone” in maps / documents appears to be in an estate map drawn up sometime in the 1790s, showing “The Estate of Drone”.

Blaeu Atlas of Scotland, James Gordon, 1654
National Map Library of Scotland

Despite that there is no longer an extant mill building, there is documentary evidence of a mill being there from the 15th century onwards. I am therefore convinced that the location of the Dron/Drone mill of the tune is in Fife.

The Mill of Drone

According to Watermills on the River Eden by Anders Jespersen in the Journal of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland (1966) ……..

Dron Mill was the smallest mill on the River Eden. It took water from the tail race of Lydox Mill, and contained — despite its limited dimensions – two pairs of stones, and a kiln, the lower part of which is cut out in the sandstone rock. The breastshot wheel was situated at the gable, which was built in ashlar stone-work, terminating in a string course just over the wheel, and above this rubble stone-work. The mill was shown on the 1645 (Blaeu) map.

The 1862 OS map shows that Dron Mill was obviously working then as a corn mill. However, by the time of the survey for the second edition of the OS 6”to-the-mile map in 1893, Dron Mill is shown as being without a roof, and therefore no longer in operation.

OS 6” to the Mile map, 1862
National Map Library of Scotland

The Song

The next tunnel down the rabbit hole leads us to the bawdy C19th song, The Miller of Drone.

There lived a miller ance in Drone,
Was fed on beef and brose:
With sturdy limbs, and shoulders broad,
As you may well suppose.
The miller was a sturdy loon,
As ever hung a stone.
He took his mouter different ways,
The Miller lived in drone.

Mouter is a Scots word referring to the payment (often in kind, such as with meal or grain) that a tenant was legally obliged to give to a mill. The song goes on to detail the shenanigans of a daughter and her mother when they take their corn to the mill to be ground, and the obliging Miller who “in motion put his stones.” It would appear that their visits were frequent, and that no money was exchanged for the miller’s various services.

The Miller of Drone, printed by Poet’s Box, 80 London St., Glasgow. (7th April 1877)
Image: Vaughan Williams Memorial Library

When was the song The Miller of Drone written?

The earliest published version of the song that I have come across is the chapbook broadsheet, The Jolly Miller of Drone, printed in Falkirk in 1813.

The Jolly Miller of Drone, Falkirk 1813
National Library of Scotland

Can we turn to fine art to give us a clue as to when the song was written? The East Lothian born, Edinburgh-based painter Alexander Carse (c. 1770 – 1843) painted an oil canvas, “The Miller of Drone” around 1820. It shows a scene in an alehouse with the miller regaling all around him and obviously thoroughly enjoying both the beer and the attentions of the barmaid.  Alexander Carse mostly spent his days in and around Edinburgh where he mainly painted scenes of village and rural life: a barber’s shop, a brawl outside an alehouse, (rowdy) village ball games, penny weddings etc. Were these paintings done in situ? Or were the buildings and backgrounds quickly sketched in a suitable location, with the characters and detail painted afterwards in his studio? I suspect the latter – and that his paintings were mostly created from his imagination: I doubt if he went to Drone in Fife to find the authentic local alehouse and its inebriated miller. It is also safe to assume that the song must have been known and presumably widely sung throughout lowland Scotland when he painted the scene around 1820. This is confirmed by an 1871 Banffshire journal entry which states that the song was very popular in the local area around 1820. It is impossible to give a definitive answer as to when the song was written, but my hunch is that it dates from the C18th.

The Miller of Drone, by Alexander Carse.
Usage: Creative Commons

Is there a link between the strathspey and the song?

Was the song sung to the strathspey tune? Or are the two entirely separate? Is there a link between the song and the similarly titled C18th jig?

The 1877 Greig-Duncan collection Folk Song of the North East (Volume 7) gives three versions of the song. The accompanying tune given is the popular Aberdeenshire song “The Battle of Harlaw” and not the Gow Strathspey. It is possible that the use of this tune is purely local to the Aberdeenshire area – people may have preferred to use a better-known local melody, rather than the more southerly strathspey.

There is a recording made by Alan Lomax in 1951 of William Mathieson of Turriff singing a snippet of The Miller of Drone. The singing is somewhat wavering and it’s difficult to make out the tune. However, I don’t think that the melody is either The Battle of Harlaw, the C18th jig, or Nathaniel Gow’s strathspey.

The clip can be found in the Lomax Digital Archive.

So far, I’ve not found the song melody noted in any other folk song collections. It is possible that the song melody used was the similarly titled strathspey. However, whilst the verse fits beautifully into the A part of the Strathspey, the shorter chorus is only half the of the Strathspey’s B past. Of course, you could simply repeat the same 4 lines of the chorus to make it fit. Or of course it is quite possible that the song has absolutely nothing to do with the strathspey, and that Nathaniel Gow simply wrote the tune to jump on the bandwagon of an already popular song. Can anyone throw some more light on the matter?

And finally……..

Looking back through time, each generation changes its interpretation and understanding of all matters historical. Given that we can never have all the facts (and anyway, one person’s “fact” is only their interpretation of “the truth”), it is a rash person who would state definitively that they alone have THE answer. So, here I have put forward a theory or two on the origins of The Miller of Drone. No doubt someone with access to more / other information will put forward a different / more convincing theory: such is the shifting sands of writing about anything historical! Whoever and whenever that happens, I look forward to hearing from them.

———-

Munro Gauld is a freelance traditional musician, ethno-musicologist and musical historian
Email: [email protected]

📷 Photo by Peter McNally

I first came across the incredible sound of Gaelic psalm singing back in 2002 when I was living in London and studying music at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS). As part of my degree, I had the opportunity to do some work experience and spent a day a week over a couple of years in the sound archive of Cecil Sharp House in Camden, the home of the English Folk Dance and Song Society. My job was to digitise a collection of 78 recordings that had been gathered in the 1940s and ‘50s for a substantial BBC archiving project. Having just moved to London from Shetland, I was assigned the Scottish collection of material – so many beautiful Gaelic songs, Shetland fiddle tunes, piping and ballad singing among other styles and instruments. It was an exciting time and I discovered some amazing music while I was doing this, and a few tunes that I ended up learning and recording in the duo, Blyde Lasses.

📷 Angus Murray singing at a public talk, Comunn Eachdraidh Nis, Ness, Lewis. June 2025. (Photo by Mary Stratman)

On one of these days I was sitting in the archive, dusting off the first of a new batch of recordings for transfer to CD, when one of the librarians (and also a fine singer), Peta Webb, appeared in the door and we got chatting. She said, ‘you’re digitising all this Scottish music. Have you ever heard Gaelic psalm singing? It’s incredible – like nothing else you’ve heard in the British tradition. It sounds more like Islamic singing than singing from these islands’. I admitted that I’d never heard of it but would look it up. When I came across a recording, I was blown away by the sound – incredibly powerful, moving, and evocative. Peta was right – it had the hint of some Middle-Eastern traditions, and this has been noted by the likes of Scottish musicologist John Purser, who pointed out the remarkable similarities between Gaelic psalm singing and some forms of Ethiopian Christian singing.

📷 Marybelle MacKinnon, Crossbost, Lewis. March 2022. (Photo by Frances Wilkins)

Since my time in London I have gone on to become a professional ethnomusicologist – someone who seeks out, researches and promotes the wonderful musical traditions often hidden from view within communities. The practitioners I meet rarely sing or play music as a profession but take part in musical traditions as an innate expression of their identity – whether that be geographical, occupation, spiritual, or linguistic. I have researched singing in fishing communities and among fishermen at sea, music from the days of the whaling industry and the fur trade, fiddling and dancing in subarctic indigenous communities, and more recently the incredible spiritual song, psalm and hymn traditions spread out across the Hebrides. I am based at the Elphinstone Institute, University of Aberdeen, where I completed my PhD in 2009. As a senior lecturer in ethnomusicology I teach on the MLitt programme in folklore and ethnology, training students to study the cultures of Northern Scotland (and beyond) in context.

📷 Murdo J Morrison, bard and Gaelic psalm precentor, Fivepenny, Ness, Lewis, March 2022. (Photo by Mairi M Martin)

In the last few years I have interviewed and recorded many singers from across the Hebrides and have travelled throughout the islands, meeting people and hearing their stories and songs. The result has been a substantial archive of songs, interviews, field recordings, photographs and videography.

📷 Gaelic psalter. (Photo by Mairi M Martin)

Gaelic psalm singing is one of our oldest living musical forms in Scotland, with its roots in the years following the 1560 Scottish Reformation, when singing in churches suddenly shifted from choral singing in Latin, to unaccompanied congregational psalm singing in the vernacular language. It was led by a precentor, someone (usually male) who sang out each line for the then mostly illiterate congregation to follow. In most places, this style of singing was replaced by more modern singing styles but in the Gaelic speaking churches of the Hebrides, the old style of singing remained and became an important part of Hebridean culture. Many people I spoke with, regardless of whether they were religious or not, expressed how elemental the tradition was to all aspects of life in the past, forming a musical soundtrack to their daily lives – in daily ‘family worship’, at weddings, funerals, wakes, and other gatherings where people congregated together.

📷 D R MacDonald, Gaelic psalm precentor, Stornoway. October 2022. (Photo by Mairi M Martin)

The project, ’Seinn Spioradail: Sacred Soundscapes of the Highlands and Islands’, was an amazing experience and I met so many inspiring people. Unfortunately these incredible singing traditions are struggling to thrive under the current climate of anglicisation and secularisation within the church and communities. There has been a lot of discussion in recent years about safeguarding music as intangible cultural heritage (ICH), since the Scottish ratification of the UNESCO Convention for the safeguarding of ICH. On talking to TMF director Brian Ò hEadhra among others, it appears that the pure act of unaccompanied singing has become an art-form under threat. It is in need of safeguarding and treasuring if we are to see this unique and deep-rooted practice survive and flourish. Gaelic psalm and hymn singing, along with a number of other traditions such as Sean-nòs in Ireland, has been losing prominence in traditional music over the years under a constant bombardment of alternative, more accessible musical styles. It is no different in the Hebrides, and part of this project was to gain a better understanding of the singing, explore how it is being adapted in order to stay relevant to its singers and the changing environment, and how it might be safeguarded in its present form for future generations.

There have been some amazing initiatives to teach and preserve Gaelic psalm singing. Calum Martin has produced an excellent series of online workshops to teach people to sing Gaelic psalms, and is teaching classes to people on Lewis. Gemma Malcolm from the Kinloch Historical Society in Balallan recently worked with school children to record the oral history of psalm singing in the local area. As part of the project they learnt to sing a psalm, competing at their local Mòd and winning first place. Since then the children have had invitations to sing the psalm at local venues and events.

📷 Children from Sgoil nan Loch who sang a Gaelic psalm at the Stornoway Mòd, winning first place. With Gemma Malcolm, Kinloch Historical Society. June 2025. (Photo by Mary Stratman)

The Seinn Spioradail project culminated in an exhibition that has been on tour for the last 2 years across the Hebrides. It is currently on display at Comunn Eachdraidh Nis (Ness Historical Society) in Lewis and includes panels, objects, film, listening stations and digital archive. There is an accompanying website which hosts the digital archive – over 300 songs recorded as part of the project, with lyrics and translations. It has been a useful learning tool for singers looking to explore the tradition and learn some of the psalms and beautiful songs and hymns of the Hebrides. Other resources are being produced in the coming months including a CD and podcast series.

📷 Frances Wilkins with Hamish Taylor, Leverburgh, Harris. June 2025. (Photo by Mary Stratman)

A highlight of the project for me was giving some public talks in Lewis and Harris over the summer, where I was accompanied by some incredible singers including Torquil MacLeod, Hamish Taylor, Murdo MacMillan and Jeanna Cumming. I was also invited, with the wonderful Gaelic singer Kristine Kennedy, to give a talk/performance at the British Academy in London as part of the event, ‘Memory Through Melody: Celebrating Sung Histories’. The British Academy funded a large part of the project and it was exciting to have the opportunity to bring the music to them. The 20 minute presentation is available to watch on YouTube (from 44 mins).

📷 Jeanna Cumming singing at public talk, Leverburgh, Harris. June 2025. (Photo by Mary Stratman)

📷 Frances Wilkins and Kristine Kennedy at the British Academy, London. May 2025. (Photo by Oliver Wilkins)

For more information on the project, including to see the exhibition panels, film and digital archive, visit franceswilkins.com/seinn-spioradail