288: World Library of Folk and Primitive Music, Vol. 3: England, by Various Artists

Various Artists (United Kingdom)
World Library of Folk and Primitive Music, Vol. 3: England (1955)
30 tracks, 48 minutes
iTunes

A couple of days ago, I discussed field recordings in relation to the Ocora series in general, and the album Burundi: Musique Traditionnelles in particular. Field recordings, and the spheres of anthropology and ethnomusicology at which they’re normally aimed, are very rightly often accused of ‘othering,’ looking at other cultures in terms of their opposition to Western cultures. Sometimes this is in a paternalistic way, sometimes in a clinical way, and very early work is sometimes downright insulting, but the common theme is that the recordist or researcher is positioned as an aloof, educated and superior observer, more akin to a wildlife documentarian than a fellow music enthusiast meeting with equals*.

That’s why I was so fascinated when I first listened to this album, part of the superb World Library of Folk and Primitive Music series. This was the first time that I’d ever heard ‘my’ culture presented in the same way as music from everywhere else in the world has been recorded for study. These are field recordings from England, presented in a series alongside music from across Europe, Asia, Africa, Oceania and the Americas. The music here shows the sound of English folk – that is, English people – from the late 30s to the early 50s; the pieces were recorded up and down the country (and just over the border into Wales too) in pubs and village halls, at fetes and in the street and in the homes of regular, musical people. A wide range of styles and functions are covered, from chanties to ballads to dances and drinking songs. Equal importance is placed on the rhythm and rhyming games of schoolchildren and the mumming plays of Dorset pubs at Christmas as on recordings of famous singers such as Ewan MacColl, Bertie Lloyd and Isla Cameron. The accompanying notes give detailed context for each piece, noting its participants, dates and locations as well as the histories of the pieces or cultural artefacts from the perspectives of both the performers and of researchers. In short, it is an amazing collection of anthropological recordings presented in the exact same way as music from any other, ‘other’ culture**.

It really gives a glimpse into the lives of non-urban English people of the time. At this point, folk music wasn’t something that was the result of revivals, songs learnt from recordings and performed in concerts or in folk clubs one night a month above a pub. This was entertainment and heritage, passed through by oral tradition. It was performed at work, at home and out-and-about or even – shock horror – in the downstairs of pubs. It was just part of what you do, music as life. It’s not just the contexts that make this interesting either. The music itself is fascinating, and a fair chunk of it is even good to listen to! Isla Cameron’s version of ‘Died for Love’ bowled me for six the first time I heard it; such an agonising and emotional song with a performance to boot, and with such a seemingly simple melody. This is the English blues. That recording is still one of my all-time favourites.

In his notes accompanying the LP, Alan Lomax – who compiled the album with Peter Kennedy, edited the entire series and even recorded a lot of the music himself – writes, ‘The vigor and charm of these living English folksongs may surprise most listeners; perhaps most of all the British.’ After all, these were the traditions of the countryside, the village and the small towns – they had already all but vanished in the big cities. This album and those like it were some of the catalysts of the second big English folk revival that came to a head in the 1960s. Nevertheless, I feel the album can still have the same impact on listeners today. The world that is captured in these recordings doesn’t exist anymore – or if it does, in very quiet ways. Listening to this album brings it to life once more. It also allows English people like myself to appreciate our own culture as an outsider, in much the same way as we listen to music from other cultures. A valuable listening exercise from many perspectives.



* These fields of study have improved upon this stance in the last 30ish years, making leaps and bounds in considerations to academic ethics, positionality and decolonisation of theory and practice, although there is undoubtedly a long way still to go. However, the popular imagination of anthropologists, ethnomusicologists and field recordings is still much as I have described, despite their advances.

** Well, almost. Most of the performers here are credited by name except in the instances of large group or ensemble recordings; in other volumes of this series (especially those not recorded in Western Europe or North America), performers are more likely to be anonymised – ‘woman from the such-and-such village,’ or ‘man singing and playing lute,’ for example. It was still the 1950s after all.