I had heard Bruce Scott sing at Fleadheanna (Irish music competitions) and small folk festivals before. His voice was unmistakable. A room-filling baritone, each syllable crisply pronounced and projected magisterially through his Liverpudlian accent. An accent which belies too his Irish roots; Bruce's grandparents were Irish and his interest in the country, and particularly its songs, has been passed down since to his daughter Tracey and her daughter, Melissa, who is also proving herself as a prolific traditional song-maker1.
Melissa and Bruce's wife Dot were both with him at the All-Britain Fleadh in Leicester in 2008. Bruce had won many All-Britain Fleadh titles in the singing competition - his name was engraved more than any on the large silver perpetual trophy. He had also got to the final of the song-writing competition on numerous occasions and it was one of his own songs that I was hunting that day.
Earlier that year in May, Bruce and I had both been at the Keith Summers Festival in London. I recall walking up the stairs of the King and Queen pub in London's Fitzrovia (a place-name always worth mentioning - it rolls of the tongue mellifluously - as does the word mellifluously actually... anyway...) as I walked up the stairs, I could hear Bruce singing and immediately recognised his strong Scouse voice. He sang many songs over that weekend, as did many other fine singers from these islands, but Bruce sang a song he had made about my native Wexford that stood out for me. Like many others set in Wexford, the song concerns the 1798 rebellion of the United Irishmen. Bruce had researched his topic well and put the song to a complimentary traditional air. It's a funny thing when you hear a song and you can't help but imagine it coming out of your own mouth. You feel as you hear it that it would suit your own voice, your own style. It has a story you want to tell, sometimes even just phrases or words that you want to utter. And with that a melody that you know you will not tire of through all the repetitions required to hone it well enough to sing it for others.
A few months later in Leicester I got the opportunity to ask him for the song. Not a request I would make lightly; it's an endorsement of a requesting singer to give them a song, particularly if it's one you made yourself. Realising this, I treaded lightly. I sat with him and his family as we listened to the junior singing competitions that morning. At a natural point I mentioned that I really enjoyed the song he had sung about Wexford and would love to sing it. Bruce was more than happy to pass it on and I asked if I could record him singing it. He obliged and after the competitions had finished, Bruce, Dot and I stayed on in the competition room and I set up my mini-disk recorder. Bruce produced a small black notebook from his pocket and leafing through the surprisingly ordered songs laid-out inside, he found 'The Heroes of '98'.
'Remember those who for Ireland rose in the year of '98,
Those Wexford men, from hill and glen, their deeds commemorate...'
The song’s sympathies are biased certainly, I wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise, but it is compassionate and respectful. Bruce had written it in 1998, for the bicentenary of the events depicted - not dissimilarly to how 'Boolavogue', now a central song in the Wexford canon, was composed by P.J. McCall to commemorate the 100-year anniversary of the insurgency.
Somewhat unknowingly, I collected my first song that day, at least in the formal sense of going out with that particular goal in mind with a recording device to a source singer. The song was followed immediately by other songs and stories – songs Bruce had made about Wexford, Dublin and indeed his most acclaimed song ‘The People’s Own MP’ about Bobby Sands, the hunger striker. The People’s Own MP has been covered by a number of commercial recording artists including Christy Moore.
After lunch was the senior singing competition. Bruce and I had both entered – me for the first time. He asked what I would sing. I said I hoped to sing 'Come All You Warriors', an epic song written soon after the events of 1798 and believed to be a significant template for the aforementioned ‘Boolavogue’2. 'Hoh, you'll definitely win if you sing that one!' he said. And he was right.
I felt a rite of passage had occurred in that kind comment from Bruce and the decision of the adjudicator that day. My peers had expressed that I was of the singing standard of somebody I very much looked up to. Later that day, Bruce's grand-daughter pipped him in the song writing competition, coming first as he came second and with me coming third.
The tradition was firmly being upheld by the youth - a very healthy sign, and Bruce appreciated that. I felt that I was a traditional singer that day. Melissa was merited as a song-maker. Bruce had already made his mark as a singer and song-maker, now he was a tradition bearer.
1 - The term ‘song-maker’ is preferred by many people in the traditional Irish music community to the more widely used ‘song-writer’ in popular music or ‘composer’ in classical and jazz. 'Song-maker' as a term implying a craft and the art of traditional song-making is explored and expounded respectively in the RTÉ Radio programme Songmakers and in the seventh chapter of Hugh Shields’ ‘Narrative Singing in Ireland’.
2 - See George Denis Zimmerman’s ‘Songs of Irish Rebellion’.
Earlier that year in May, Bruce and I had both been at the Keith Summers Festival in London. I recall walking up the stairs of the King and Queen pub in London's Fitzrovia (a place-name always worth mentioning - it rolls of the tongue mellifluously - as does the word mellifluously actually... anyway...) as I walked up the stairs, I could hear Bruce singing and immediately recognised his strong Scouse voice. He sang many songs over that weekend, as did many other fine singers from these islands, but Bruce sang a song he had made about my native Wexford that stood out for me. Like many others set in Wexford, the song concerns the 1798 rebellion of the United Irishmen. Bruce had researched his topic well and put the song to a complimentary traditional air. It's a funny thing when you hear a song and you can't help but imagine it coming out of your own mouth. You feel as you hear it that it would suit your own voice, your own style. It has a story you want to tell, sometimes even just phrases or words that you want to utter. And with that a melody that you know you will not tire of through all the repetitions required to hone it well enough to sing it for others.
A few months later in Leicester I got the opportunity to ask him for the song. Not a request I would make lightly; it's an endorsement of a requesting singer to give them a song, particularly if it's one you made yourself. Realising this, I treaded lightly. I sat with him and his family as we listened to the junior singing competitions that morning. At a natural point I mentioned that I really enjoyed the song he had sung about Wexford and would love to sing it. Bruce was more than happy to pass it on and I asked if I could record him singing it. He obliged and after the competitions had finished, Bruce, Dot and I stayed on in the competition room and I set up my mini-disk recorder. Bruce produced a small black notebook from his pocket and leafing through the surprisingly ordered songs laid-out inside, he found 'The Heroes of '98'.
'Remember those who for Ireland rose in the year of '98,
Those Wexford men, from hill and glen, their deeds commemorate...'
The song’s sympathies are biased certainly, I wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise, but it is compassionate and respectful. Bruce had written it in 1998, for the bicentenary of the events depicted - not dissimilarly to how 'Boolavogue', now a central song in the Wexford canon, was composed by P.J. McCall to commemorate the 100-year anniversary of the insurgency.
Somewhat unknowingly, I collected my first song that day, at least in the formal sense of going out with that particular goal in mind with a recording device to a source singer. The song was followed immediately by other songs and stories – songs Bruce had made about Wexford, Dublin and indeed his most acclaimed song ‘The People’s Own MP’ about Bobby Sands, the hunger striker. The People’s Own MP has been covered by a number of commercial recording artists including Christy Moore.
After lunch was the senior singing competition. Bruce and I had both entered – me for the first time. He asked what I would sing. I said I hoped to sing 'Come All You Warriors', an epic song written soon after the events of 1798 and believed to be a significant template for the aforementioned ‘Boolavogue’2. 'Hoh, you'll definitely win if you sing that one!' he said. And he was right.
I felt a rite of passage had occurred in that kind comment from Bruce and the decision of the adjudicator that day. My peers had expressed that I was of the singing standard of somebody I very much looked up to. Later that day, Bruce's grand-daughter pipped him in the song writing competition, coming first as he came second and with me coming third.
The tradition was firmly being upheld by the youth - a very healthy sign, and Bruce appreciated that. I felt that I was a traditional singer that day. Melissa was merited as a song-maker. Bruce had already made his mark as a singer and song-maker, now he was a tradition bearer.
1 - The term ‘song-maker’ is preferred by many people in the traditional Irish music community to the more widely used ‘song-writer’ in popular music or ‘composer’ in classical and jazz. 'Song-maker' as a term implying a craft and the art of traditional song-making is explored and expounded respectively in the RTÉ Radio programme Songmakers and in the seventh chapter of Hugh Shields’ ‘Narrative Singing in Ireland’.
2 - See George Denis Zimmerman’s ‘Songs of Irish Rebellion’.
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