The Corries: Donal’, whar’s yer troosers?
The well-worn songs that might have influenced the Corries repertoire in those early years were the standard fare of radio broadcasts and social gatherings, weddings and wakes. One could have been forgiven for imagining a Scotland populated by Harry Lauder types drifting drunkenly through heather clad glens pining for some lost love or simply aching for another dram or two. The Brigadoon factor weighed heavily against any resurgence of the works of Robert Burns or exposure of the wealth of collected traditional songs, stories and poetry now stored in the vaults at the School of Scottish Studies. Scotland surely deserved better.
As a group the Corries had no positive musical agenda at the outset, tending instead to collect material from other singers or by travelling to various folk festivals whenever possible. Instinctively we shied away from the sentimental, favouring instead the depth of poetry and wonder that we had begun to uncover in our search for material that reflected a Scotland that was aware, scholarly and politically informed.
Requests to sing “My grannie’s Hieland Hame” or “Roamin’ in the Gloaming” were studiously declared “unfit”, much to the disappointment of several producers. We were becoming selective in our choice of material. On one occasion, an invitation to appear on a short run of Worker’s Playtime broadcasts was firmly turned down by us since we were doubtful that our material was suitable for such a show. This caused ructions across the BBC since it was considered a national duty for performers to support a programme that had run throughout the war years, entertaining workers across the land. Thereafter, we were to be known as “that group….”, a tag that set us apart from other acts eager for exposure.
In developing our two- hour solo concerts, we had built up enough material to ensure that return visits to concert venues around the country could take place without fear of repetition. Additionally, we had cabaret spot programmes to suit any occasion. We were in demand for radio and television appearances north and south of the border. These included several appearances on BBC’s Tonight programme. We paraded and sang our way across the new Forth Bridge the day before it was officially declared opened by the Queen and appeared at the Festival Hall in London on at least one occasion. The popularity of the televised series had ensured that we were well attended wherever we appeared. The fact that the Festival Hall in London filled every Saturday night, irrespective of who was appearing, did not deter us, although our confidence might have taken a knock momentarily.
On several occasions, we booked the Liverpool Philharmonic and the City Hall in Birmingham for solo concerts that were sell-out successes, with the audiences well versed in our repertoire of songs due in part to the sales of our vinyl recordings. The generally accepted folk song repertoire was now established widely across the country due in no small part to the proliferation of folk clubs that had sprung up in towns and villages with performers encouraging their audiences to join in and sing along, something that had been a feature of Corrie concerts from the beginning. On several occasions I recall the audience taking the lead while we just stood and listened. These were magical moments when the sharing of the music in this special way transformed the occasion into something quite remarkable. Years later and these early concerts remain as joyful memories for many fans of the music.
Sometime during 1963 whilst we were preparing the television series, we accepted an invitation to appear in a show at the Palladium Theatre (now gone), promoted by Rory and Alex McEwan, two brothers who were early stalwarts of the Scottish music scene.
Our dressing room was at the top of the building and in time we duly performed a short set of three songs and left the stage to considerable applause. The applause continued as we climbed the stairs and appeared to go on for an incredibly long time. The audience was determined. They wanted more. We hurriedly took to the stage again and sang two further songs that did little to quell the riot that was building. It all ended well but it was for us a startling demonstration of just how popular we had become in the few short months since we had been in the public’s eye. In fairness, it was a late show and the audience were more than likely under considerable influence.
Our tours across Scotland were organised with the help of John Worth of Inverness a promoter who managed the Inverness empire and who knew exactly where and when to launch a three week tour of Scotland that would guarantee attendance and hotel accommodation in a wide range of venues which, at first glance, gave no indication that the areas were even inhabited. Two full length shows were performed each night (excluding the Sabbath), followed by a ceilidh at which we were expected to perform a set. Soon, cars and vans converged on the area and people thronged the hall. I seem to remember sleeping little on these tours. In time, our group wagon, a mark five jaguar, became so well-known across the country that people would come out to cheer us on our way as we crossed the country on a well-advertised route map.
The Edinburgh hubs for folk music were the Crown Bar on Lothian Street and the Waverley bar on St Mary’s Street. It is incredible to reflect on the talent that showed up there and who in the years to come would find fame and fortune as performers and recording artists. The Incredible String Band had their beginnings at the Crown, as did Bert Jansch and a host of others. Hamish Imlach, Archie Fisher were regulars and the various casts involved in making the television series would duly turn up to offer support. Add to this the number of acclaimed stars who had shows running during the Edinburgh festival and the number of ‘casuals’ dropping in to give a song or two was endless. Dolina McLennan’s tireless efforts at the Waverley bar ensured a steady flow of performers, many of whom went on to greater things. The Corries first gig was held at the Waverley.
I remember one memorable evening in 1964, during the Edinburgh festival, at a party in Moray Place when Carolyn Hester sat on the floor of a very luxurious salon accompanied by Larry Adler on harmonica and Julian Bream on guitar as she gave a moving performance of ‘Summertime’ from Porgy and Bess while the Manhattan Brothers and Miriam Makeba looked on. A moment in time, each note hanging in the air, all gone too soon.