A'e gowden lyric: songs by Ronald Stevenson - CD Booklet by Delphian Records

DELPHIAN

Ronald Stevenson (1928- ) [1-17] A Child’s Garden of Verses 1 Dedication 2 Bed in Summer 3 The Land of Nod 4 Time to Rise 5 Singing 6 Rain 7 Windy Nights 8 Shadow March 9 My Shadow 10 Fairy Bread 11 The Swing 12 Summer Sun 13 From a Railway Carriage 14 Autumn Fires 15 When the golden day is done 16 The Lamplighter 17 Envoy

Susan Hamilton, soprano John Cameron, piano

[2.05] [1.51] [1.43] [0.43] [0.59] [0.51] [0.51] [2.12] [3.13] [1.23] [1.08] [3.31] [1.56] [2.12] [1.15] [4.01] [6.14]

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Traighean (Shores) The Robber Hill Sang The Gaelic Muse The Buckie Braes The Quiet Comes In The Bobbin-Winder To the Future O Wha’s the Bride? Trompe L’Oeil The Bonny Broukit Bairn Fairytales Hallowe’en Sang The Plum Tree The Day is Düne The Rose of All the World The Droll Wee Man A’e Gowden Lyric

[2.42] [1.49] [1.32] [1.31] [1.47] [2.24] [1.30] [0.56] [4.25] [0.38] [2.00] [0.48] [1.30] [1.28] [1.43] [0.58] [1.08] [1.56]

a’e gowden lyric Songs by Ronald Stevenson

Total playing time [66.59]

Susan Hamilton soprano

John Cameron DCD34006

piano

Love of melody came early in the childhood years of Ronald Stevenson. Born into a working class family in Blackburn, Lancashire in March 1928, it was the singing of his father, a fine amateur tenor, of the songs of Burns and the Irish melodies of Tom Moore that awakened in him a Celtic element, a legacy of his Scots and Welsh antecedents. From these origins came a social conscience that confined his polemics to artistic expression through music.

music of Francis George Scott and Francis Collinson. The effect on his creative personality of these influences was twofold . On one hand, a Busonian aesthetic was expressed in an aphoristic statement of considerable intensity in A Twentieth-Century Music Diary (1953-59) and in the Prelude Fugue and Fantasy (1959), later expanded into the first Piano Concerto (195960). On the other hand, a Scottish element erupted scores like his Scots Dance Toccata (1965) and Pibroch for Sorley MacLean (1959-68). In December 1960 he embarked on the his largest and most expansive composition to that date, which was to become the best known of his many works: the Passacaglia on DSCH, a vast 80-minute long piano solo whose germ motif was derived from the initials of Dimitri Shostakovich (to whom Stevenson presented the autograph score atthe 1962 Edinburgh Festival). This momentous composition was a turning point in his work.

Stevenson began piano lessons at the age of eight. During his musical studies in piano at the Royal Northern College in Manchester, he discovered Busoni, who became a master in absentia for the young Stevenson. His subsequent pursuit of a musical career, whilst outwardly seeming to follow the accepted paths of study, teaching, lecturing and giving recitals, in reality bore little relation to conventional British musical training. The influence of Busoni and his development of a phenomenal technique on the keyboard awakened empathy with other unconventional, yet influential figures in artistic expression - not only musicians such as Sorabji, Medtner, Szymanowski, Paderewski and Shostakovich but writers such as Blake and artists like Gordon Craig . With his move to Scotland and marriage in 1952, he met the poets Hugh MacDiarmid, William Soutar, Sorley MacLean, and George Campbell Hay and became acquainted with the

Later, after moving to the Scottish Borders, his creative energies focused on openly nationalistic elements in Scottish music. From the Scottish Border country with its rolling tree-clad hills to the wind-scourged machair of Tiree and the Inner Hebrides, and from the often unrecognised folk origins of true Scottish song he found an expressive poetic language that derived from a virtuosic instrumental tradition and had a universal application. 1

More contemporary music from Delphian Records Songs from the Exotic Polly May, mezzo-soprano; Lucy Walker, piano DCD 34002

This debut from rising star Polly May includes premiere recordings of the original versions of Judith Weir’s Songs from the Exotic and Luciano Berio’s Quattro canzoni popolari. “[M]uch to enjoy in this fresh and courageous venture.” - BBC Music Magazine

MacMillan/MacRae: Piano Works Simon Smith, piano DCD34009 Simon Smith’s astounding debut recording features a kaleidoscope of piano works by Scottish composers James MacMillan and Stuart MacRae. Smith’s fluency in these contemporary pieces is exuberant and definitive, from subtle murmur to virtuosic flourish. “Smith’s mastery... oozes maturity and dazzling technique” -The Scotsman “Simon Smith is a phenomenal pianist.” -The Herald

order online at www.delphianrecords.co.uk or call +44 (0)709 215 7149

Recorded 21 & 22 November 2001 at St Mary’s Collegiate Church, Haddington, East Lothian with 24-bit stereo technology Producer: Kevin Findlan Engineer: Paul Baxter

John Cameron is a rising star in the next generation of collaborative pianists, having won praise from both critics and today’s most respected coaches. Graham Johnson has said of John that he ‘is not only technically accomplished to a high degree, but displays a real feel for colour…unhampered by any fuss and pretension: he gets to the heart of the matter.’

Special thanks to Colin Scott-Sutherland Design and Photography: © Delphian Records Ltd 2003 Delphian Records Ltd

His early musical studies centred on the violin and viola, at the RSAMD junior department, St. Mary’s Music School, and the Royal Northern College of Music. He was then offered the chance to work in Denmark as an accompanist, coach, and conductor for the Nordvestjyske Sinfonie Orkester.

An unabridged version of Colin Scott-Sutherland’s essay can be found by visiting www.delphianrecords.co.uk

John returned in 1996 to study piano accompaniment at the Guildhall School of Music & Drama, where he won a Sir Henry Richardson Award, a GSMD bursary and scholarship, a Geoffrey Parsons Memorial Award, the Schubert Award and the Armourers and Brasiers Accompaniment Prize. He has been invited to perform in masterclasses given by Graham Johnson, Martin Katz, Sarah Walker, Iain Burnside and Robin Bowman and has performed at the Wigmore Hall, the Barbican Hall and at the Edinburgh and Cheltenham International Music festivals.

Of the Gaelic poet Sorley MacLean (Somhairle MacGill-Eain) he wrote: ‘The tenor of MacLean’s poetic voice is threnodic: the form it takes is fundamentally elegiac’ The setting of Traighean (Shores) is expressive of that mood: the music redolent of the fresh salt wind, the open spaces of sand and seashore. Neither poet nor musician could probe more deeply to the wellsprings of true Scottish culture than this.

for little things. These settings are rife with descriptive music: the drift of petals shaken from the plum; The Buckie Braes with its chuckling syncopations, reminiscent of Francis George Scott; the flight of The Droll Wee Man; and the epilogue The Day is Düne, echoing Soutar’s own tragedy. The cycle of songs from Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden ofVerses was commissioned from the composer to mark the centenary of the verses’ publication in 1885. In contrast to the poems omitted - which deal largely with games, toys, picture books or else pious thoughts - those he selects are without exception concerned with feelings, such as the sensual experience of rain, sunshine, wind, wood smoke, or the act of swinging. Stevenson has an instinctive sympathy with, and understanding of, childhood, which is evinced in so much of his work and poignantly reflected in these verses. In composing the cycle, Stevenson had two alternatives - to set the lines as poems for children or as poems of childhood. With unerring instinct, Stevenson selects from his musical palette just those colours which perfectly limn the words of the poet, capturing the vividly imagined world of the child with its delights and fears.

Stevenson first met MacDiarmid in 1956. MacDiarmid, a prolific writer whom Stevenson aptly dubbed ‘an apocalyptic rag-man’ was a uniquely individual, often aggressive, voice, and although Stevenson did set many of the poet’s more polemical lines, he mainly chose to work with the lyrics. His setting of The Bonnie Broukit Bairn aptly echoes Alexander Scott’s description of the poem’s eight short lines which ‘contain immensity, for the followers of Burns, but extends to the whole of creation as the individual stands alone in the darkness confronting the world around him and the stars above’. The settings of the Perthshire poet William Soutar are in complete contrast. Soutar was confined for all his adult life to his bed with a crippling illness, yet his verses are expressive, in their simplicity, of the wider life he could only see from his bedroom window and are rich in imagery and profound humanity and concern

A Child’s Garden of Verses (1985) (Robert Louis Stevenson) Dedication For the long nights you lay awake And watched for my unworthy sake: For your most comfortable hand That led me through the uneven land: For all the story-books you read: For all the pains you comforted:

The Land of Nod

The Droll Wee Man (William Soutar)

From breakfast on through all the day At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod.

There was a wee bit mannie Wha lookit like a craw An’ whan nae body was near him He’d aften try tae caw.

All by myself I have to go, With none to tell me what to do-All alone beside the streams And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

He chang’d his wee black coatie For ane as white as oo’ ‘By cricky!’ cheept the mannie, ‘I’m a willy goo, a willy goo noo!’

The strangest things are these for me, Both things to eat and things to see, And many frightening sights abroad Till morning in the land of Nod.

For all you pitied, all you bore, In sad and happy days of yore: From the sick child, now well and old, Take, nurse, this little book you hold!

Try as I like to find the way, I never can get back by day, Nor can remember plain and clear The curious music that I hear.

Bed in Summer In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.

Time to Rise A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon my window sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: ‘Ain’t you ‘shamed, you sleepy-head!’

I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people’s feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day? 3

A’e Gowden Lyric (Hugh MacDiarmid) Better a’e gowden lyric Than the castle’s soaring waa; Better a’e gowden lyric Than onythin’ else avaa.

Susan Hamilton was born in Edinburgh. A noted soloist specialising in Baroque and contemporary music, she sings regularly in Britain and Europe with the Dunedin Consort, Collegium Vocale, Florilegium, The King’s Consort, The New London Consort, The Ricercar Consort and A Sei Voci, and has appeared at major international festivals in Europe, Japan and Australia. She has worked with conductors such as Philippe Herreweghe, Sir John Eliot Gardiner, Raphael Frühbeck de Burgos, Paul McCreesh and Ton Koopman, composers including Witold Lutoslawski and Ronald Stevenson and has been soloist with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra

and the London Symphony Orchestra. She appears regularly on television and radio, and has recorded for Astrée-Auvidis, Delphian, Harmonia Mundi, Hyperion, Ricercar, and Virgin Classics. In 1985, she gave the first performance of Ronald Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden ofVerses for a BBC broadcast; Stevenson later (1988) wrote his May Songs (for soprano and string orchestra) for her. Susan is co-founder and Artistic Director of the Dunedin Consort. Recent work has included a programme of English music with the Ricercar Consort, Rosenmüller’s Vespers with Cantus Cölln, Haydn's Scot Songs at ‘Les Folles Journee’ in Nantes and Lisbon, Michael Daugherty’s ‘What’s That Spell?’ with the Paragon Ensemble, the UK premiere of Kancheli’s Exil with Mr. McFall’s Chamber, a tour of the USA with the Collegium Vocale, and works by Schütz on a tour of the United States and Stockhausen’s Stimmung at the Edinburgh International Festival with the Dunedin Consort. 12

Hallowe’en Sang

(William Soutar)

Singing

Gie me your haun An’ roon’ the tree we’ll gang (Singin’ baloobala) Afore the wind comes Lauchterin’ owre oor sang An’ blaws the fleurs awaa.

Dinna gang oot the nicht: Dinna gang oot the nicht! Laich was the müne as I cam owre the mair: Laich was the lauchin though nane was there: Somebody nippit me, Somebody trippit me, Somebody grippit me roun’ an roun’: I ken it was Bawsy Broon I’m shair it was Bawsy Broon.

The Day is Düne Lully, lully, my ain wee dearie, Lully, lully, my ain wee doo; Sae far awa’ an’ peerie weerie Is the hurlie o’ the warld noo.

Dinna win oot the nicht: Dinna win oot the nicht! A rottan reeshl’d as I ran be the sike, An’ the deidbell dunnl'd owre the auld kirkdyke: Somebody nippit me, Somebody trippit me, Somebody grippit me roun’ an roun’: I ken it was Bawsy Broon I’m shair it was Bawsy Broon.

Of speckled eggs the birdie sings And nests among the trees; The sailor sings of ropes and things In ships upon the seas.

(William Soutar)

And a’ the noddin’ pows are weary; And a’ the fitterin’ feet come in: Lully, lully, my ain wee dearie, The darg is owre an’ the day is düne.

The children sing in far Japan, The children sing in Spain; The organ with the organ man Is singing in the rain.

Rain The rain is raining all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea.

(William Soutar)

The rose of all the world is not for me I want for my part Only the little white rose of Scotland That smells sharp and sweet and breaks the heart.

Come oot, come oot; our plum-tree’s fou o’ fleurs An’ the fleurs are at the fa’: Come oot, come oot, They’re flichterin doun in shoo’rs Like shoo’rs o’ snaw.

Shadow March All around the house is the jet-black night; It stares through the window-pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves with the moving flame. Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum, With the breath of the Bogie in my hair; And all round the candle the crooked shadows come, And go marching along up the stair. The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp, The shadow of the child that goes to bed-All the wicked shadows coming tramp, tramp, tramp, With the black night overhead.

The Rose of All the World (Hugh MacDiarmid) The Plum Tree

Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea, By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again.

Windy Nights Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?

My Shadow

The Swing

O Wha’s the Bride?

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do!

O wha’s the bride that cairries the bunch O’ thistles blinterin white? Her cuckold bridegroom little dreids What he sall ken this nicht.

As I gaed doon the hedgeback, Five blue eggs I saw, It was as gin you’d looked at me wi’ five een for twa.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes goes so little that there’s none of him at all.

Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, River and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside--

For closer than gudeman can come And closer to’r than hersel’, Wha didna need her maidenheid Has wrocht his purpose fell.

The Bonny Broukit Bairn

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close behind me, he’s a coward you can see; I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the road so brown-Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down.

O wha’s been here afore me, lass, And hoo did he get in? A man that deed or I was born This evil thing has din.

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Fairy Bread Come up here, O dusty feet! Here is fairy bread to eat. Here in my retiring room, Children, you may dine On the golden smell of broom And the shade of pine; And when you have eaten well, Fairy stories hear and tell.

Summer Sun Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers down his rays. Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

And left, as it were on a corpse, Your maidenheid to me? Nae lass, gudeman, sin Time began 'S hed ony mair to gie. But I can gie ye kindness, lad, And a pair o’ willin hands, And ye sall hae my breists like stars, My limbs like willow wands, And on my lips ye’ll heed nae mair, And in my hair forget, The seed o’ a’ the men that in My virgin womb hae met…

Trompe L’Oeil

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

Mars is braw in crammasy, Venus in a green silk goun, The auld mune shaks her gowden feathers, Their starry talk’s a wheen o blethers, Nane for thee a thochtie sparin, Earth, thou bonnie broukit bairn. But greet, an in your tears ye’ll droun The haill clanjamfrie!

Fairytales

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

Ither folks’ fairy tales’ll no’ dae for you. You maun ha’e your ain As new as you’re new. In the licht o’ the mune We'll gang oot wi’ a girn And see if we canna Catch them yinceyirn. Fairy tales are aye best when they’re catched on the hop, There’s naething worth ha’en To be hed frae a shop.

The Buckie Braes

(William Soutar)

Whan the roch winds low’r Sangsters begin: Whan the sang is owre The quiet comes in.

It isna far frae our toun Be onie gait that gaes; It isna far frae our toun To gang to the Buckie Braes; Whaur the wee linn lowps the craigies And whaur the cushats croun; And the happers in the growthy grass Are diddlin owre their tune; Wi’ a chickie-chick-chickerie, Dickie-dick-dickerie, Tickie-tick-tickerie, Jiggety-jig.

The Bobbin-Winder

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

Not even the fine threads in a lace factory, Coming, like rays from the sun, towards the woman Winding the bobbins, can vie With that miracle now on the river. Look! Where the bowls of yon waterlilies And the threads they send down to the depths Are so elfin it seems only a chord struck On a piano could have given them birth.

Monie a bairn frae our toun In the canty simmer-days; Monie a bairn frae our toun Haiks up to the Buckie Braes, Whaur the birk links in wi’ the rodden And the burnie rinnles doun; And the happers in the growthy grass Are diddlin owre their tune; Wi’ a chickie-chick-chickerie, Dickie-dick-dickerie, Tickie-tick-tickerie, Jiggety-jig.

The Quiet Comes In

Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy’s inmost nook.

To the Future

(William Soutar)

He the unborn shall bring from blood and brain Songs that a child can sing And common men. Songs that the heart can share and understand; Simple as berries are Within the hand.

(William Soutar) Such a sure simpleness As strength may have; Sunlight upon the grass, The curve of the wave.

Whan the rage is by The bluid grows still: Whan the tears are dry The bairn sleeps weel. 9

Autumn Fires In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail!

Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.

Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The grey smoke towers. Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall!

From a Railway Carriage Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by. Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And here is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart runaway in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!

When the golden day is done When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall As the rays diminish, Under evening’s cloak they all Roll away and vanish.

The Lamplighter My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by; For every night at teatime and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa’s a banker and as rich as he can be; But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I’m to do, O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!

There passing through (a step or so Neither mama nor nurse need know!) From your nice nurseries you would pass Like Alice through the Looking Glass Or Gerda following Little Kay, To wondrous countries far away. Well, and just this volume can Transport each little maid or man, Presto, from where they live away Where other children used to play. As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not think you can at all, By knocking on the window, call That child to hear you. He intent Is all on his play-business bent. He does not hear, he will not look, Nor yet be lured out of this book. For, long ago, the truth to say, He has grown up and gone away, And it is but a child of air That lingers in the garden there.

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door, And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more; And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light; O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night! Envoy Take you this volume in your hands And enter into other lands. For lo! (as children feign) suppose You, hunting in the garden rows, Or in the lumbered attic, or The cellar a nail-studded door And dark, descending stairway found That led to kingdoms underground: There standing, you should hear with ease Strange birds a-singing, or the trees Swing in the big robber woods, or bells On many fairy citadels:

Traighean (Shores)

(Sorley MacLean)

Hill Sang

And if we were together on Calgary shore in Mull, Between Scotland and Tiree, Between the world and eternity, I would stay there till doom Measuring sand, grain by grain.

Liggan on a mossy knowe A-blow a hill o’ heather Yon’s the place for me and you In the Lammas weather. Bluebells dinnlin wi’ nae soond, Laverocks up and merry: Flitterflees aye raikin roond And never in a hurry.

And in Uist, on the shore of Homhsta In presence of that wide solitude, I would wait there forever, For the sea draining drop by drop.

The Robber

Gangrel whins alang the brae Waggin’ gowdan banners: The burnie haudin on its wey And chirlin owre the stanners.

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

A robber cam’ tae ma hoose An’ theft was a’ his ploy, Nor gowd nor siller could he find And sae he stow ma joy.

The Gaelic Muse

(Hugh MacDiarmid)

At last, at last, I see here again In our long-lifeless glen, Eidolon of our fallen race, Shining in full renascent grace,

He stow the kisses frae ma mou A’ mony a lauch an' tear, And syne begood upon ma bluid A’ toomed it vera near.

She whose hair is plaited Like the generations of men, And for whom my heart has waited Time out of ken.

I gied him a’ he wanted An’ mebbe a wee bit mair, I dinna ken what a’ he took But that’s no here nor there. For aye he gied for a’ he took, An’ better gied than took, An’ I've a bonnie laddie noo An’ breists for him tae sook.

(William Soutar)