The Lost Lady Found[See also separate entry for choral setting, below. Dedicated to the folksingers who sang so sweetly to me. The Lincolnshire Posy was originally composed and scored for Wind Band, early in , using earlier sketches for various mediums dating from to Above each movement is stated the nature and date of the sketch or sketches from which it is sprung. The work was di shed-up for 2 Pianos, 4 Hands, by the composer, late in and early in With the exception of military marches almost all the music we hear played on wind bands military bands was originally composed for other mediums for orchestra, for piano, for chorus, as songs for voice and piano and afterwar ds arranged for wind band--and as good as never by the composer.
Is the wind band--with its varied assortments of reeds so much richer than the reeds of the symphony orchestra , its complete saxophone family that is found nowhere else to my ears the saxophone is the most expressive of all wind instruments--the one closest to the human voice. And surely all musical instruments should be rated according to their tonal closeness to man's own voice! As a vehicle of deeply emotional expression it seems to me unrivalled. Five, out of the six, movements of which it is made up, existed in no other finished form, though most of these movements as is the case with almost all my compositions and settings, for whatever medium were indebted, more or less, to unfinished sketches for a variety of mediums covering many years in this case the sketches date from to These indebtednesses are stated in the scores.
The version for two pianos was begun half a year after the completion of the work for wind band. Broadwood; the other five noted by me, mainly in the years , and with the help of the phonograph , and the work is dedicated to the old folksingers who sang so sweetly to me.
Indeed, each number is intended to be a kind of musical portrait of the singer who sang its underlying melody--a musical portrait of the singer's personali ty no less than of his habits of song--his regular or irregular wonts of rhythm, his preference for gaunt or ornately arabesqued delivery, his contrasts of legato and staccato, his tendency towards breadth or delicacy of tone. No concert singer I have ever heard approached these rural warblers in variety of tone-quality, range of dynamics, rhythmic resourcefulness and individuality of style.
For while our concert singers dull dogs that they are [Shame on you, Percy! In fact--levity aside--an uncharacteristic remark from a man of such broad tastes and enthusiasms; however, he always did like to poke fun or worse at critics and musicians who appear to take themselves too seriously, for the sake of their "art" perhaps, but, at the expense of the music itself.
For they bent all songs to suit their personal artistic taste and perso nal vocal resources: It was only after the Norman Conquest that these high ideals gave place to a weak-kneed tolerance of indeed, sly admiration for such vices as adventurousness, opportunism and luck-chasing, and that the 'inferiority complex' of a defeated people revealed itself in the mock-heroics, flighty pessimism, self-belittlement, South-worship and Continent-apery so distressing from an Australian standpoint in Spencer, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Keats, Tennyson, Swinburne and much other English art.
It is upheartening to note that this defeatist self-effacement, this indescriminate grovelling before things foreign is blessedly absent from American poetry such as Walt Whitman's and Edgar Lee Masters' and from such Australian art as Barbara Bainton's prose and the drawings, paintings and novels of Norman Lindsay. Here we meet again the affirmative life-worship and robust selfhood so characteristic of Scandinanvian art [of all periods] and of pre-Norman English art. Perhaps it is not too much to hope that America and Australia are in process of de-Normanising, re-Anglo-saxonising and re-Scandinavianising themselves!
And it is this yeomanship this ability to stubbornly remain immune to all sorts of upstart un-English influences that I wished to celebrate in my Posy. No genuine folksong ever becomes popular--in any civilised land.
Yet these same music-lover entertain a maudlin affection for the word 'folksong' coined by my dear friend Mrs. Edmund Woodhouse to translate German 'volkslied' and the ideas it conjures up. So they are delighted when they chance upon half-breed tunes like Country Gardens and Shepherd's Hey on the borderline between folksong and unfolkish 'popular song' that they can sentimentalise over as being folksongs , yet can listen to without suffering the intense boredom aroused in them by genuine folksongs.
Had rural England not hated its folksong this form of music would not have been in process of dying out and would not have needed to be 'rescued from oblivion' by townified highbrows such as myself and my fellow-collectors. As a general rule the younger kin of the old folksingers not only hated folksong in the usual way, described above, but, furthermore, fiercely despised the folksinging habits of their old uncles and grandfathers as revealing social backwardness and illiteracy in their families.
And it is true! Joseph Taylor, the singer of Rufford Park Poachers--who knew more folksongs than any of my other folksingers, and sang his songs with 'purer' folksong tradition--was neither illiterate nor socially backward. And it must also be admitted that he was a member of the choir of his village Saxby-All-Saints, Lincolnshire for over 45 years--a thing unusual in a folksinger.
Furthermore his relatives--keen musicians themselves--were extremely proud of his prowess as a folksinger. Taylor was bailiff on a big estate, where he formerly had been estate woodman and carpenter.
He was the perfect type of an English yeoman: At the age of 75 in his looks were those of middle age and his ringing voice--one of the loveliest I ever heard--was as fresh as a young man's. He was a past master of g raceful, birdlike ornament and relied more on purely vocal effects than any folksinger known to me.
His versions of tunes were generally distinguished by the beauty of their melodic curves and the symmetry of their construction. His effortless high notes, sturdy rhythms and clear unmistakable intervals were a sheer delight to hear.
From a collector's standpoint he was a marvel of helpfulness and understanding and nothing could be more refreshing than his hale countrified looks and the happy lilt of his cheery voice. George Gouldthorpe, the singer of Harkstow Grange born at Barrow-on-the-Humber, North Lincolnshire, and aged 66 when he first sang to me, in was a very different personality.
Though his face and figure were gaunt and sharp-corn ered closely akin to those seen on certain types of Norwegian upland peasants and his singing voice somewhat grating, he yet contrived to breathe a spirit of almost caressing tenderness into all he sang, said and did--though a hint of the tragic was ever-present also. A life of drudgery, ending, in old age, in want and hardship, had not shorn his manners of a degree of humble nobility and dignity exceptional even amongst English peasants; nor could any situation rob him of his refreshing, but quite u nconscious, Lincolnshire independence.
In spite of his poverty and his feebleness in old age it seemed to be his instinct to shower benefits around him. Once, at Brigg, when I had been noting down tunes until late in the evening, I asked Mr. Gouldthorpe t o come back early the next morning. He must have taken a train from Goxhill or Barrow, at about 4.
I apologised , saying 'I didn't mean that early, Mr. But he was very anxious to insist that no injustice was done to him. In the midst of reciting his troubles he would add quickly, impulsively: They're verra kahn tummuh kind to me at the workkus; they're verra kahn' tummuh!
He gave out his tunes in all possible gauntness, for the most part in broad, even notes; but they were ad orned by a richness of dialect hard to match. Gouldthorpe I think most of the mild yet lordly grandeur of his nature, and this is what I have tried to mirror in my setting of Harkstow Grange.
George Wray the singer of Lord Melbourne had a worldlier, tougher and more prosperously-coloured personality. He, too, was born at Barrow-on-Humber, and was eighty years old when he sang to me in From the age of eight to seventeen he worked in a brick yard, after which he went to sea as cook and steward, learning some of his songs aboard ship.
After that he again worked at a brick yard, for forty years; and, later on again, he sold coals, taking them to Barton, Barrow, Goxhill, etc. This he did to the age of seventy-three, and then he 'give over'. In his old age he enjoyed independence, and said" 'And thaay saay they say a poor mahn 'ahsn't a chahnce!
Yet, in spite of this association with strict rhythm, his singing was more irregular in rhythm than any I ever heard. He took a prize--a fine silver pencil--for dancing, at Barton, at t he age of fifty-four, performing to the accompaniment of a fiddle, which he considered 'better than anything to dance to'.
His brother was a 'left-handed' fiddler bowing with his left hand, fingering with his right. Wray held that folksinging had be en destroyed by the habit of singing in church and chapel choirs, and used to wax hot on this subject, and on the evils resultant upon singing to the accompaniment of the piano. He was convinced that most folks could keep their vigour as late in life as he had, if they did not overfeed. I asked him if he often went to town, and he answered: His art shared the restless energy of his life.
Some of his versions of tunes were fairly commonplace not Lord Melbourne, however! He had an amazing memory for the texts of his songs. Lord Melbourne actually about the Du ke of Marlborough is a genuine war-song--a thing rare in English folksong.
In , when I first met its singer--Mr. Deane, of Hibbaldstowe--he was in the workhouse at Brigg, N. I started to note down his Dublin Bay, but the workhouse matron asked me to stop, as Mr. Deane's heart was very weak and the singing of the old song--which he had not sung for forty years--brought back poignant memories to him and made him burst into tears.
But a year or so later, when I had acquired a phonograph, I returned to get Mr. Deane's tune 'alive or dead'. I thought he might as well die singing it as die without singing it. He was very proud of his wound, and insisted that he was far too weak to sing.
Deane,' I said to him, 'you needn't sing yourself; but I would like you to hear some records made by other singers in these parts.
Hill, an old family nurse, and a native of Stamford Lincolnshire , learned her delightful song when a child, from an old cook who danced as she sang it, beating time on the store kitchen-floor with her iron pattens.
The cook was thus unconsciously carrying out the original intention of the 'ballad', which is the English equivalent of the Italian 'baletta' from ballare, 'to dance' , signifying a song to dance-measure, accompanied by dancing. Joseph Taylor on Aug. On July 11, , Mr. Joseph Taylor recorded this song for the London Gramophone Co. Taylor's variants appear in my setting. Dished-up for 2 Pianos, 4 Hands, Oct. Rufford Park Poachers Poaching Song was composed for Wind Band early in , using in a few places only earlier sketches of , etc.
It was dished up for 2 Pianos, 4 Hands, in Oct. WHen the main solo bars is played on flugel horn version A is used. When the main solo is played on soprano saxophone version B is used. If you play [the] 2-piano edition with Wind Band ask the Bandmaster whic h version is to be played. The Brisk Young Sailor who returned to wed his True Love was sketched for mixed unison chorus, horns and strings in using earlier sketches, probably of or ; this material greatly added to and worked up for Wind Band, March ; dished-up for 2 Pianos, 4 Hands, Oct.
Lord Melbourne War Song was sketched for unison chorus, organ and a few brass instruments in The version for Wind Band Lincolnshire Posy was written early in , and consists of the ahbove-mentioned sketches beginni ng to bar 13, inclusive; bar 34 to the end and of new material composed early in bars 14 to 33, inclusive.
This melody is a variant of 'The Duke of Marlborough' folksong, t he first phrase of which as noted down by Lucy E. Broadwood from the singing of Mr.
The Lost Lady Found Dance Song was orginally set for mixed chorus and room-music 12 or more instruments in ; the same was scored for Wind Band as part of Lincolnshire Posy early ; dished-up for 2 Pianos, 4 Hands, Oct. He worked hard to preserve the originality of folk songs by recording and taking notes on individual performances which he sought out i n their natural habitat among sailors, peasants, and other sponantenous performers.
Horkstow Grange, or 'The Miser and His Man, a local tragedy', is formed with the accent shifting throughout yet never loses its flowing style. Rufford Park Poachers is the most complex of the settings.