20 Years On - Experiences of Ethnic Diversity in the Trad Scene
by Joanie Bones
Find out more about Joanie Bones here.
In the North London house I grew up in during the ‘80s and ‘90s, aubergines, pomegranates & saffron were common kitchen ingredients. My mum was Persian, my dad of Ashkenazi Jewish background, the son of a doctor from Vienna who walked across Europe to escape the Nazis and the grandson of Jews who had fled their native village when the Russians started to burn the them out of their houses in what is now Ukraine. In this urban multicultured world, I was surrounded by people 'like me'.
In 1999 I arrived in Edinburgh to study and was intrigued to notice that when people asked me where I was from, I would always say ‘London,’ never ‘England’ like many other students. And so I discovered that ‘English’ or British were not categories I felt affinity to. Born London, bred London. A city kid through and through.
In that first term a friend introduced me to the singing of English folk singer June Tabor. I’d never heard unaccompanied English folk song before and was immediately captured. I’d written songs and sung all my life, but now I had a compass point, a direction. Although I had no biological ties to this island I’d spent all my life on, something deep inside me resonated with this music, and knew it to be home.
“And I find myself longing for conversations around these issues, a conversation which feels so much more possible now, given the leaps in social awareness around differences, intersectionality, power and privilege that have arisen over the decades.”
That was twenty years ago. In the intervening years since I first fell in love with folk song I’ve done many things, and singing was always in my heart and often on my lips, but I’d given up the dream of pursuing a career long ago. I’d told myself various reasons for this, but it wasn’t till I heard about a north London Jewish boy making it big in the folk world that I understood the real reason why.
‘You mean it’s possible?’ I found myself declaring.
And thus I learned that, until Sam Lee’s rise to fame, I had believed that someone from outside ‘the tradition’, someone from an urban centre, someone not even ethnically Britain, could not be accepted in the trad scene.
Someone like me.
When I was visiting folk clubs in the 90s and early 2000s, I don’t recall once seeing someone who looked like me, or, perhaps more importantly, someone who I thought ‘felt’ like me, whatever that meant. Someone who mirrored me. And so I walked away.
I realise now it wasn’t about my looks, but my internal landscape, an internalised sense, of perhaps inner awareness, of difference. Of a lack of shared cultural heritage. Of knowing myself to be somehow different, even if perhaps no-one else saw me that way. I’ll never know - was it my own sense of difference that created a sense of there being no place for me? I know for a fact I never experienced a moment’s prejudice from anyone. Why wasn’t that enough?
Twenty years on and with the maturity that comes with age and the changes in the English folk scene over this time, I’ve recently found the confidence to return to my singing as a profession. And I find myself longing for conversations around these issues, a conversation which feels so much more possible now, given the leaps in social awareness around differences, intersectionality, power and privilege that have arisen over the decades.
Black folk singer Yola says in an interview around race and folk music (note that’s folk, not trad, music), ‘unanswered questions make people feel like they don’t belong’. As a non-ethnically British trad singer, there are some things I need to talk about.
I need to know from the white ethnically Scottish trad musicians if ‘someone like me’ is indeed welcome in the Scottish trad scene. And I don’t really mind what the answer is, I just want an honest and open conversation around some of these ‘difficult’ questions:
Who is ‘allowed’ to sing Scottish folk songs?
As a ‘music of the people’, folk music could be said to be intrinsically aligned with the disadvantaged. This is perhaps one of the reasons I found my urban and English background to be so problematic in my youth: although I had some characteristics that were ‘disadvantaged’ relative to the white Scot folkies I was so keen to join, namely my ethnicity, I also had traits that situated me in a place of privilege compared to them.
“Black folk singer Yola says in an interview around race and folk music (note that’s folk, not trad, music), ‘unanswered questions make people feel like they don’t belong’. As a non-ethnically British trad singer, there are some things I need to talk about.”
So - Is it OK for me to sing Scottish songs? Is it OK for me to sing my own songs in the folk idiom in Scotland? Or English folk songs in Scotland? Is it OK for me to sing English folk songs?
If no, is there anything someone like me can do to make it OK, or is it simply a no handed down by birthright? And if so, what is someone like me ‘allowed’ to sing? I don’t have a homeland other than this island with which I feel such a deep connection.
When discussing cultural appropriation, American/Persian/Armenian singer Lydia Violet talks about the central importance of ‘right relation’ – that it’s the intention and connection that counts when engaging with a culture that isn’t one’s own. So is the simple fact that I love trad song more than any other genre and feel it keenly in my heart ‘enough’ to legitimise my part in the trad scene? If so, to what extent? Could ‘someone like me’ ever become a tradition bearer?
Who has the legitimacy to answer these questions? What is ‘authenticity’?
And continuing from these questions, I need to talk about place. It has been said that folk music is ‘essentially the experience of a group seeking to articulate an indigenous relationship with place’ which is based on a belief of ‘high levels of legitimacy and authenticity (based on historical rootedness), relative to the relationships of other groups’ (Keegan-Phipps, 2017).
This is important – nothing in me wants to deny or belittle the importance of rootedness, culture and history.
But today’s world is so much more complex than this, so how does something so aligned to land take account of issues like the ever-increasing global surge in migration (Britain has just seen its highest ever numbers of migrants trying to enter the UK via the channel, and there are already 50 million people in the world displaced as a result of the climate catastrophe, a number which exceeds that of those fleeing political persecution, and will only rise massively). What does this mean for our future in the times of ‘the great upheaval’ where circumstance may force us to overcome ‘the idea that we belong to a particular land and that it belongs to us’ (Vince, 2022)?
What then for folk? Is it back to ‘right relations’? What does this mean? As an incomer to the Highlands, I enjoyed this idea of what one can do towards consciously ‘putting down roots’ in one’s new home with respect: show keen attention to the local land and culture, and desire to ‘become a good ancestor’, ie make a positive contribution (Warburton Brown, 2021).
Recently I had a distressing conversation with someone from Creative Scotland who could not get their head around the fact I was not trying to highlight the lack of support for different folk musics in Scotland, but the lack of support for non-Scots to play Scottish folk music, a totally different issue. Yes it’s great that Eastern European and Asian bands are playing at Celtic Connections, but how many Asian kids are playing the clarsach or the fiddle? I asked the Conservatoire for their stats: in the last 6 years, 100% of the intake into the BMus (Traditional Music) course has been ethnically white.
“I asked the Conservatoire for their stats: in the last 6 years, 100% of the intake into the BMus (Traditional Music) course has been ethnically white.”
It seems that England is quite ahead of Scotland in contemplating these issues: last year the English Folk Song and Dance Society organised a conference around diversity in folk and there is a whole team at Sheffield University researching how accessible folk music is for people of different backgrounds. But I’m not aware of any such thing in Scotland to date.
So what now?
Like I said, for me the most important thing is having these discussions.
Then we can work out where, if anywhere, to go with it, and what, if anything, to do.
Joanie Bones and her band Halfwise in the early 2000s, with bandmates Jed Picksley, Armeet Panesar and Robin Mason.
***
The BIT Collective’s November monthly catch-up will be hosted by Joanie and focus on experiences of ethnic diversity in Scotland’s traditional music scene.
If you are interested in joining, please visit our events page here: Events — The BIT Collective, or respond to the Facebook event here: https://fb.me/e/2mbdwazLI.
SOURCES
Keegan-Phipps, S. (2017). ‘Identifying the English: essentialism and multiculturalism in contemporary English folk music’, Ethnomusicology Forum 2017, Vol 26 no 1, 3-25 2017
Nade, L. Does folk music in the UK have a problem with diversity? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bs60URwpuK8
Vince, G (2022) ‘The century of climate migration: why we need to plan for the great upheaval’ 18 August 2022, The Guardian.
Warburton Brown, C. (2021). ‘Re-rooting Industrial Humans’, Permaculture Works, Roots Issue, Spring 2021.
With thanks to the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland for sharing their entry diversity statistics.
I am not your inspiration… unless I am! - Grace Stewart-Skinner
Clàrsach player, Grace Stewart-Skinner, writes on her experience as a musician with cerebral palsy.
I would like to make it clear that I am only writing from my own experiences and thoughts here, I am by no means talking for the whole disabled community.
I play the clàrsach, that’s my thing, I also have cerebral palsy, that’s also a thing (but a side hustle really). CP is a disability caused by a brain injury, usually at birth. When I was born my parents were told that I may not ever walk or talk – Ohhh how those doctors were wrong! I walked with a frame and used Makaton (a simple form of sign language) until I was about 6 and attended physio and speech therapy into my teens. Despite this, I didn’t even think of myself as ‘disabled’ until I was 12.
I started playing clàrsach around about the same time that I was becoming more aware of my CP and for a few years I let disability get in the way of my progress. Dexterity and fine motor skills, useful for playing an instrument, are not my strong suits and I barely used my left hand when I first started playing.
Pursuing music at school gave me the kick up the bum I needed. I am very lucky that I was never discouraged from studying music but when it got to exams, there were concerns around whether I would physically reach the standard in the available time. I smashed Nat 5. I smashed Higher. Advanced Higher? Walk in the park.
The mere suggestion that my physical capabilities might prevent me from doing something was enough to make me determined that they wouldn’t.
I have never felt excluded in the traditional music scene because of my disability. On the whole, I have found it to be an extremely welcoming and understanding environment. My biggest frustration with being disabled in terms of my musical life is not being able to transport my clàrsach myself. When I moved to Edinburgh, I realised if I wanted to go to a session, I had to suck it up and message people I didn’t know to ask them to help me. I feel very lucky to have never had a problem with this. I have to trust people, some of whom I hardly know, with the most important material thing in my life and let them into my flat, late at night and often after drinking. Thankfully, I have only ever had one bad experience in this regard, and I have found that most people are absolutely lovely! I am so grateful to anyone who has ever carried my clàrsach.
I have missed out on one music opportunity because of my disability. A potential clàrsach pupil checked out my musician page on Facebook and after watching a video, she decided that there would be a communication problem. I was upset but I respect her decision and understand that I might not be the right person for her. This was the first time in my adult life that I was aware of someone making a judgment about me because of my disability and sadly it meant that I missed out on a teaching opportunity.
I have been told that by playing the clàrsach I am inspirational. I really appreciate the sentiment and am sure that it is meant it in the best possible way. But there is a difference between someone being inspired by you and someone admiring or appreciating you. Now, unless you have actively done something as a result of seeing me play, I am not your inspiration. Feel free to admire me, appreciate that playing is physically harder for me, but ask yourself, have I inspired you?
A wee girl and her mum came up to me after a small gig I played on my home turf in the Highlands to say how much they loved my playing. A good while later I met them again, the mum said that, after coming to my gig, her daughter had decided to start clàrsach lessons and is now busking and gigging. I felt overwhelmed that I had made such an impact on someone, especially after they had only seen me once. I am humbled to have played a part in this girls’ musical journey. I suppose in this instance, I was an inspiration!
In 2017 I received an ‘Inspiration’ Award at Na Trads. While this award gave me immense bragging rights, I felt conflicted; was I being awarded for being a disabled person who plays the clàrsach? I had also recently busked my way to buying a clàrsach and that is probably the main reason I got the award; for being determined, both in raising money and in sticking with an instrument, despite facing more challenges than others. I was just confused as to why my disability had been mentioned at all.
The reason why I feel uncomfortable with being called an inspiration is because it is a word that is often misused by able-bodied people to describe disabled people. Disabled people are put on a pedestal when an able-bodied person doing the same thing would just be ‘really good at what they do.’
I don’t mention my disability on my professional social media, I don’t think it is relevant. Why should my disability have any sway on whether you want to hire me? People don’t hire musicians based on their shoe size or their eye colour, why should being abled or disabled be any different? In most of my experiences, it isn’t. This doesn’t mean we can get complacent. I am only just embarking on my professional musical career. I am sure there will be many things to overcome along the way, some because of my disability, some because I am a woman, some physical and practical, some due to bias and judgement. Whatever happens, I am delighted to be a part of the traditional music community and I am so excited to make lovely music with lovely people!
You can find Grace Stewart Skinner on Facebook and Instagram.
Where Them Girls At: Amongst all of the up-and-coming traditional music producers, where are all of the women?
History repeats and despite this being the 21st century it is hardly surprising that whenever there is an emergence of a new instrument or culture in the traditional music scene it always takes time for women to become established. With the advent of technology, there has been the emergence of a new wave of traditional music. Spearheaded by bands like Valtos, Niteworks, and Inyal the emergence of neo-trad (yuck! when will someone come up with a better genre name) begs one question. Amongst all of the up-and-coming traditional music producers, where are all of the women?
The gendered nature of music production upholds several patriarchal narratives which preserve barriers that restrict women’s access to technology. Music production is an intersection between two stereotypically male domains, composition and technology. Where composition has progressed away from being seen as a traditionally male field technology is still very much a man’s world. This is often ingrained into us from an early age with science and technological fields being presented as inharmonious with stereotypical female traits. Although in our modern world we are progressing away from gender norms this stereotyping contributes to spaces being viewed as masculine or feminine.
The gendering of space is particularly pertinent when you consider any space in which one may gain the skills associated with music production. In high school, we are presented with cultural tropes that discourage women away from technological spaces. An array of cultural factors contribute to a social setting where women are expected to pursue artistic or literary-based subjects while male counterparts pursue science or mathematics subjects. This coupled with other gendered connotations such as boys receiving more attention from teachers leads to places such as computer rooms being branded as “boys clubs”. This gendering of spaces is highly reminiscent of many professional spaces, particularly recording studios.
These masculine spaces restrict the point of entry to music production for many women. With contemporary studio spaces still dominated by men, these can be intimidating spaces for women to even enter let alone gain experience in. This results in a self-taught approach to music production, a route many men, women, and everyone in between often take to build their skills in this area. With technology becoming more accessible so to have the necessary tools to pursue music production, leading to the cultural phenomenon of bedroom producers. Alongside technology becoming more accessible, the traditional music scene has witnessed many artists utilising technology to expand on their current musical practice although one cannot ignore the gender imbalance present here.
As beneficial as this accessibility is it requires tremendous time commitments to learn the skills necessary to produce. Having this time available is reserved for those in privileged positions, be it financial stability or a lack of caring commitments amongst other things. This results in an additional discrepancy when traditional musicians are honing their music production skills. Traditional music is an inherently social music. Built around an aural tradition a considerable amount of traditional music-making takes place in social settings such as sessions, ceilidhs, or music lessons. To take the necessary time required to learn music production fundamentals requires a potentially isolating self-led approach that contrasts the musical settings many of us are familiar with.
The systemic barriers that prohibit female traditional musicians from pursuing music production become evident when one considers how deeply engrained many of these factors are in our society. The gendering of spaces is a barrier that many women have grown up with and continue to face in professional capacities. Although the advent of technology has presented means for women to overcome this, the self-led approach necessary to overcome this barrier comes with its own challenges. The time commitments necessary for obtaining music production skills require an individual stepping out of social domains which is a privilege many women do not have the capacity for.
By Jenna Macrory (Jen Mac).
Sheena Wellington - Monthly Profile
Tell us a little about yourself - who you are, where you’re from, what you do
My name is Sheena Wellington, I was born and brought up in Dundee, and I am a singer, song tutor and occasional event tutor.
What have you been doing recently? How has Covid19 changed things for you?
In February, I visited Washington DC as part of the Hogg 250 celebrations and my last gig before lockdown was in Dundee's Verdant Works on the 13th March where I had the joy of singing with my great-niece, street poet Gemma Johnston. Covid-19 wiped out a whole string of interesting gigs, celebrating 1320, Hogg events, the Fringe. Instead I found myself running the phone-line and fundraising for Dundee Thegither, an emergency food delivery service. It was very intense but I met some great people because of it.
What are the most notable points/events in your career? (Good or bad!)
There have been many great and memorable moments, the Opening of the Scottish Parliament being an obvious one. There was also the Concert for Lockerbie, just weeks after the bombing. The atmosphere that night was quite extraordinary.
Who are your top 3 inspirational women?
My grandmother, Mary Morrison Thoms or Johnston, who was a weaver in Dundee, who raised a big family, was called back to the looms in 1939 at the age of 65 and at the age of 73 took on the care of her widower son's two children . She was also a fine singer with a great repertoire of Scots song!
Anne Neilson (1944 - 2019), fine singer, gifted and inspirational teacher of English, song, ethics, loyalty and friendship.
Rosa Parks. I have always had great respect for a person who does the right thing in cold courage knowing what the consequences might be. "When that white driver stepped back toward us, when he waved his hand and ordered us up and out of our seats, I felt a determination cover my body like a quilt on a winter night.
What’s the first record/album you ever bought?
Edinburgh Folk Festival 1963 Vol.1. A landmark album!
Who are you listening to most right now?
I've bought CDs and downloaded a few albums from bandcamp recently, well actually, I've downloaded gigabites of albums from bandcamp because it's tough out there but I am not saying who I am playing a lot because I never say how I have voted in the Trad Awards!
Any advice for aspiring musicians?
Whether you're performing to a packed Glasgow Royal Concert Hall or ten people in a church hall where the heating has failed, respect your audience enough to do your best. And on those days when you realise you are not on top form just remember that only mediocrity never has an off-day!
Marie Fielding - Monthly Profile
Be true to yourself, value yourself, protect yourself. Reach out and talk, don’t keep it, whatever “it “ is, to yourself. It matters. You matter.
Tell us a little about yourself - who you are, where you’re from, what you do…
Hi. My name is Marie Fielding and I was delighted when BIT Collective asked me to share a few stories about myself and what I have been up to.
I’m an Edinburgh girl, born in the 60’s with my 2 brothers. I am in the middle child, so tended to be the bossy one growing up! My school life was challenging. I attended 4 different High Schools due to house moves because my late father was a builder and loved to renovate old buildings and like me, needed a new project as soon as one was finished. I taught myself fiddle just before I left Primary School, playing along to records of all genres. I still remember the feeling of making sounds and tunes on my own. I think I loved it before I even tried it and how it made me feel, trying to express emotion every time I played. My first gig age 11, set me up to become obsessive about learning, creating and collaborating. Those feelings have stayed with me throughout my career. My dad was a professional singer for a while and he whistled or sang every day of his life in the house. I can still hear him and he had a huge impact on me musically .
My great grandparents were Irish. Mayo and Dungloe to be precise. I feel a strong connection towards them, not only for Irish music, but their attitude to a hard working life, making the most of what they had during hard times. After leaving school, I worked full time as a musician. To fill my days, I studied Early Years Education and Creativity and owned my own Pre -School Nursery for a while in Edinburgh. After having my own 2 children, I returned to education with Falkirk Council and at present, I lecture part time at The Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. My main roles are fiddle and performance. I feel extremely connected to my work with the students and have a holistic approach to teaching.
Hobbies……I love cooking…nothing fancy…recently I’ve been making oatcakes of all kinds! I’m also into art and paint most days, usually abstract landscapes of Scotland, as well as ceramics, photography and following the property market.
I married late in life but that’s worked out well for me. My husband fully supports my career and crazy ideas.
What have you been doing recently? How has Covid19 changed things for you?
I am a “projects person”, so I always have something on the go. I find it difficult to relax, and having plans, challenges, aims, goals etc to think about, really helps me to focus and feel productive. During Covid I have worked with Marissa Waite, creating a new web site. I have just started an Etsy page for arty things and I completed a Mentoring qualification this year, as part of Tradmentor, organised by T.M.S.A, which has been so rewarding.
I released an album in June this year during Lockdown. The Spectrum Project, which has a more minimal approach than my previous recordings, relying on myself rather than others, to create the sounds and moods. This album has given me a sense of ownership and deep understanding about where I am in life and music. I am very relaxed about things like rehearsals and practise and thrive on “in the moment’ situations for some reason.
What else? I’ve started using Instagram but I’m not great at it. I walk most days and try to capture where I go with a photo which may or may not inspire me at some point. The Lockdown and continuing challenges of Covid have had an impact on my sense of freedom and energy. However, I feel quite resilient in life and tend to save my energy to help others. I miss having contact with my daughter Aimee but we find ways to overcome that. I am quite a content person, so in some ways, nothing has changed but professionally, I certainly feel semi- retired!
Finally, I have bought a kiln and plan to get going with that even although I don’t have a clue how to use it. I need a new challenge and I love taking risks.
What are the most notable points/events in your career? (Good or bad!)
Apart from giving birth to two wonderful human beings, I would say working full time, as a self- employed musician from age 17 has been my most rewarding point and still is. I’ve had to learn “on the job” as I didn’t study music at all. When I was young, I didn’t think much about what I didn’t know…it was more “what do I need to know?”. Secondly, joining the team at R.C.S has changed my life as an educator. It is an honour to contribute to the journey my students take, as they find their way in life and music in such a supportive and robust Traditional Music Department.
I am very proud that I have self- funded a few albums on my own record label and also published 3 tune books. I have been nominated a few times for awards and won some but this does not drive me to be successful. I simply have a need to express myself and I try not to rely on others as this would not be realistic for me. I simply trust my instincts and love to contribute to the scene, sharing my thoughts and music, hopefully leaving a legacy behind. Art has also become a passion of mine and I now have a shed in my garden. A place to create or think.
I feel I have only just touched the surface as a musician, in terms of what I want to do as a soloist, finding out more about what I sound like, the possibilities that I have not explored yet on my own, hearing myself and my sound, interpreting tunes and always searching for the story and mood.
I try to be positive in life and put others first. Sometimes, that has led to situations where I should have put myself first and reached out for help. I did not have the courage or experience to speak up for myself as a young girl, amongst older men. Some situations were worse than others, leaving me feeling I had to accept or go along with what was expected of me. I didn’t know how to say no, stop, react and reach out for help, show my disagreement, fears and verbalise them. I kept it all to myself, leading to isolation, low self- esteem, lack of friends, drinking too much, loneliness, fear, not eating, no purpose in life…..I could go on. I hid behind my fiddle. Most of this information has never been public knowledge until now so please don’t feel sorry for me. Yes, as I type this I feel anxious about sharing this with you and sometimes, I still blame myself. I can look back now, saying I survived. But I shouldn’t have to say that. I felt used but should not have felt used. Yes, It’s made me a stronger individual and I am old enough now to look out for myself, but it will always be there in my head. Being a very young and naive female in the industry was not my problem, it was the problem of what was accepted as normal behaviour.
Be true to yourself, value yourself, protect yourself. Reach out and talk, don’t keep it, whatever “it “ is, to yourself. It matters. You matter.
Who are your top 3 inspirational women? They would have to be real people in my life rather than icons.
My 25 year old daughter Aimee, who is a Nutritionist for N.H.S has worked hard to get where she is. She is vibrant, embraces life and inspires me every day.
My boss from Falkirk Council, Liz Rose. Liz understood my thinking and approach in Early Years Education which was holistic and her knowledge and enthusiasm was epic. We still keep in touch.
My closest friends whom I will not name, mean everything to me. We all have a deep understanding of each other even although we are all so different. Respect and love them all for who they are.
What’s the first record/album you ever bought?
I bought a Davy Spillane LP, called Atlantic Bridge. Not sure it was my first as I had cassettes …(yes I am old) but it is the most memorable and my introduction to the uilleann pipes and realisation of how powerful composition is. To this day, that is the instrument I react most to.
Who are you listening to most right now?
Right now the answer would be my students at R.C.S. A huge part of my role is to listen. It gives a platform for the student to perform, share and create, question and reflect. (My favourite thing is listening.) I use a lot of energy in my teaching, so silence is golden too. Otherwise, Lene Marlin a Norwegian singer and various Trad tracks. I am a bit of a piping geek too….
Any advice for aspiring musicians?
Find your own way, your own sound, in your own time. Accept who you are and what you do and embrace that you are unique. Learn as many skills as you can. Right now, we have been separated from collaboration, face to face conversations, gigs, and so on. There are always ways of finding new strategies in life to keep us afloat but sometimes we just have to accept that every day may not a productive day. Being productive can simply be being alive. Be kind to yourself. Find a wee hobby, get outdoors, buy a plant, grow some herbs, don’t rely on social media all the time. Being obsessional about your music can often break beyond your goals and reach new levels. If you can balance that with every- day life, you are on the right track.. Be inspired by others and respect others. Love yourself.
Marie
Facebook: www.facebook.com/marie.fielding.58
Instagram: @fieldingmarie
Web: www.mariefieldingmusic.com
Bandcamp: mariefielding.bandcamp.com
Video: https://vimeo.com/451781487/571e500b0c (IN TUNE WITH NATURE. My winning entry for this is a composition set to a film of Beinn Eighe Nature Reserve, sponsored by Féis Rois.)
Monthly Profile - Chloe Steele
Everyone is in the same boat with the same worries and concerns so just go for it…
Tell us a little about yourself - who you are, where you’re from, what you do
Chloe Steele, a piper and Gaelic Singer from the Isle of South Uist. I dedicate much of my time to my community, teaching traditional music to youngsters and running various cultural events and projects. I am a recent graduate from the BA Applied Music course at the University of the Highlands and Islands and have recently been appointed as a Gaelic Training Officer for Multimedia at Comhairle nan Eilean Siar (Western Isles Council).
What have you been doing recently? How has Covid19 changed things for you?
Throughout lockdown I’ve been involved in various online collaborations, concerts and projects which have kept me very busy! I think everyone is adapting to this new way of living in their own way and at their own pace.
What are the most notable points/events in your career? (Good or bad!)
There have been so many highlights in my career already and I am so thankful for them all. However, my proudest achievement has to be making my own film documentary which explores the connection between the township of Boisdale in South Uist and Cape Breton.
Who are your top 3 inspirational women?
My top 3 inspirational women are Anna-Wendy Stevenson, Fiona Dalgetty and Julie Fowlis. These are all women who I look up to an enormous amount and aspire to be like.
What’s the first record/album you ever bought?
I cannot remember the first album I ever bought but my first memory of listening to music apart from being in church was hearing songs sung by Calum Kennedy! I also have lots of memories of hearing the pipes as a child too - it always has been a huge part of our tradition here in Uist.
Who are you listening to most right now?
I’m kept busy at the moment so rarely have time to sit and listen to music. However, I have spent a lot of time learning new material by listening to old archive recordings which has been something different.
Any advice for aspiring musicians?
I would say if you have an idea that you want to peruse or develop, then be ambitious and innovative - there is nothing to lose, try it and if you don’t succeed then try again! Everyone is in the same boat with the same worries and concerns so just go for it, you never know what could come of it!
My Deafness Experience - Evie Waddell
I’ll be talking about my denial of my deafness, my acceptance of my deafness, how this relates to music, and the need for equality and respect when it comes to deaf/hard of hearing people
Hiya, I’m Evie Waddell. I’m on the BMus Traditional Music Course at the RCS, and I’ve just finished my third year (yay?). What some of you may not know, or remember about me, is I am deaf in one ear and I identify as both hearing and deaf. Life has been quite challenging to hear since I lost 92% of my hearing in my right ear (age eleven). Right before High School, which was “brilliant” timing I know.
Here, I’ll be talking about my denial of my deafness, my acceptance of my deafness, how this relates to music, and the need for equality and respect when it comes to deaf/hard of hearing people.
Let’s start off with some classic denial…
From the age of 11 to 18 I struggled with my hearing. I was young and thought it would get fixed somehow and was disinterested in being on top of my hearing medical history. I tried to avoid the whole issue and how it might be affecting me, which I now regret.
In High School I told my “friends” I have one ear that hears. Little jokes and pranks were made daily that all mounted up against my confidence. They would love testing my hearing capabilities for some reason, checking how deaf I am by seeing if I could hear them saying rude things about me, giving me frights, and making me feel embarrassed that I didn’t sense the sounds of them approaching or creeping up on me. Sometimes I even enjoyed doing this party trick because I really needed them to believe me that I couldn’t always hear. I knew they were definitely laughing at me and talking about me. With this, my confidence decreased, and I closed inward. Teachers were not aware, because I never told them, because I didn’t want to admit this so strongly, as teenagers want to “fit in” and “be normal”. I didn’t even blame my hearing – I just thought I was a poor listener or I got distracted……it was such a noisy social environment and the speed of the conversations in groups was so fast….
For a long time, I was very hesitant to learn BSL and join lip reading classes. I thought it was “just” for old folks. It was when I left High School that I started to take it seriously, reasons being, because I was away from the bullying that was based on my hearing (among other things). It was nice to have a fresh start when I studied at the School of Contemporary Dance in Dundee. Through dance I found another “voice” and started to process some discrimination I faced for being deaf. We were asked to use some of our very personal challenges as a stimulus for choreography. I think then I started to accept the extent of my loss of hearing and the different ways it affects me. When I began my music degree, I knew that this would be the biggest challenge so far and part of this would be the chore of having to constantly advocate for myself and additional needs. Now, so far, I haven’t been very successful in reminding staff and peers of my deafness, although I have done it a bit more than before.
My music related deafness experience
When I started at the RCS my principal instrument was the clarsach. However, it is such a quiet instrument that I found the experience distressing, especially when playing in a group where I can’t hear myself against bagpipes or pianos. Luckily, there are some things that help as I’ve benefited from using an amp for my clarsach. I place it so it is facing towards me, however, I can’t always get over the embarrassment of my own needs! I don’t want to be demanding and say exactly how the other musicians and tutors could re-position or give music in advance etc. I have a long way to go.
I’ll just say, I’m very glad that highland bagpipes aren’t miked up! And though some deaf people enjoy bagpipes, I do not. Studying traditional music, I hear noises coming out of nowhere and everywhere, left, right and centre, well not so much the right side. I can get unbalanced, agitated by noise sometimes.
Sessions are a staple for the trad music scene and are for most people a very sociable and equitable way to play music, but for me they feel isolating as I can’t hear if I’m in tune and the sound can be disorganised making it difficult to join in. Another wee thought I had was, why do I as someone who has been deafened, find it easier to learn music by ear? Is this surprising? Or maybe I just prefer the humanness of learning a tune with people instead of reading music alone? Is this a result of being isolated and wanting more communication? Also, when it comes to listening to music, I didn’t know until quite recently that you can get headphones that put all of the sound into one of your ears, this is fab, and wish I’d known this sooner. When you are hard of hearing you always have the feeling that there is knowledge that you haven’t heard….
A side note on sessions, and deafness aside, is that singers can left out. There aren’t many song sessions and many people dislike singers singing at “normal” sessions. It’s hard to jump in and sing when all these heavy instruments are pacing through a fast-intense tune.
Moving on to the environment of a tech rehearsal, I know I should introduce myself to whoever is doing the sound for each gig and let them know I’m deaf. I But it can be tricky to tell people I’ve just met - I don’t know why…… Pointless shame? I want to tell them that having monitors facing me is fundamental. Also, if I’m performing with peers then I want to be on the right side of them so I can hear them with my left ear. Additionally, that horrible noise when unplugging mics in the wrong order is startling and panics me as I’m very conscious of losing more hearing, so please do it right!
Recently I changed my focus to being a “singer” and there is something about being deaf and singing and feeling the vibration of your body and hearing yourself that is freeing and fascinating. I’m communicating better as last, and it’s not too dependent on a response. But for deaf musicians, long hours of practice in isolation is yet more isolation…….
In lectures I find the PowerPoint presentations are too fast! I can’t take accurate notes because I don’t want to take my eyes off the lecturer’s mouth, as I fear I’ll miss something (even if it’s boring, I try very hard to catch every word). And I can’t look at what’s on the screen because I’m focusing on lip reading, so I hope I don’t miss different information that’s on there. I feel like saying “talk more clearly, and less. Get to the point. Don’t tire me out”. I have tried using a dictaphone, but I have to admit I’m lazy to go this extra mile just in case I missed something and using it isn’t the easiest or most fun way to learn.
Numerous times my mum advised me not to mention my deafness until after I get accepted into opportunities – we just don’t trust that people will think music is possible with this disability. I’m often scared that organisations won’t hire me if I tell them I’m deaf, as they don’t know how to deal with that. Neither do I really!
It’s important to note the bright side of being hard of hearing
I’m still very new to being a part of the deaf community and have lots to learn about the culture, which I’m excited and nervous about. I shouldn’t be nervous, I know, but I seem to want to be a confident BSL signer straight away, and the community seems so strong and tight.
I’m not sure of the statistics, but it feels to me that my deafness aids my memory skills. This is probably because I have to concentrate so hard on what is being said…….
I don’t know if this is a deaf thing, but I love bassy sounds and vibrations. Perhaps I rely on the vibrations more…. But these sounds give me great visceral joy.
I have discovered celebrities that are deaf, some from birth, some just for a short while. I’m inspired by model, activist and actress Jamilla Jamill, musician/drummer Eveyln Glennie, and Academy award winning actress Marlee Matlin. I would love everyone to educate themselves a bit more around deaf culture., me included.
Learning BSL has helped me communicate soooo much. I’ve met lovely people that have BSL and provided me with some very exciting work opportunities. I worked with Theatre Gu Leor translating Gaidhlig songs and stories into BSL with mentorship from the legendary Catherine King and help from Emma McGowan. I see a connection between these two minority languages and hope to explore this much more in future projects! Thought I’d attach link to an interview clip with Jamie Rea for the show MAIM. The plan to tour 2021!
Feelings…
Being deaf I have sometimes felt stupid, silent, and slow when it comes to learning and conversations. Sometimes I struggle to communicate with speech because I have spent half my life tense and overly focused on hearing others at home, at work, at school, and I get too frustrated to gather words together. The sound of my speech sounds funny to me. I sometimes think I sound like a deaf person, whatever that means? Also, when it comes to speaking in Gaidhlig my accent feels even stranger. But also, the Stirling accent is a weird one haha.
Also, maybe I am still slightly in denial about the scale of my deafness. It is hard to tell when its anxiety and paranoia, and what am I actually hearing. It’s hard to know how much information I’ve missed.
There is often fear. Fear that people may not believe I am deaf, as I seem to function “normally”. As well as the fear of mis-hearing, there’s fear that I may have to speak up and bother everyone else and slow down their learning. The idea of constantly reminding people I’m deaf is exhausting and still uncomfortable to repeatedly sort of come out as problematic in other people’s eyes.
My deafness experience during lockdown
Zoom is challenging to hear. Socially distancing makes hearing and playing music with others harder. Using the phone is okay for me as I can put it to my one ear that hears. However, the connection of the line may be poor, and I may start to doubt my hearing capabilities because I can’t see them to lip read to check.
Lockdown is especially hard for many deaf people who use other senses like touch and sight quite heavily, and its simply easier for deaf people to sign with actual people physically present. So much of communication is in body language. 3D bodies that is.
I am quite tired and anxious playing these zoom guessing games of what did I hear.
Steps moving forward.
· I’d like to advocate for more interactive learning. I believe everybody should try different methods of learning and more often. For example, using our bodies (e.g. dance) to learn music. Another interactive idea is having discussions instead of listening to a lecturer talk for an hour non stop. Where are the discussions? The humane interactions and growth of that!
· I hope to get better at acknowledging when I’m struggling to communicate and remember to take a breath and try not to get too frustrated or panicky.
· I’ve realised that I prefer small groups for socialising and music making, it works better, easier, less stress and confusion of looking around at the sound bouncing around like basketball passes. I did love the idea of big groups but in reality, it’s too much.
· I will take on my doctor’s advice, as every little helps:
Use ear plugs in both my ears when going in water
Cover up and protect my ears from the wind by using a hat
Don’t try to get wax out by prodding
Wear ear defenders in loud situations
This relates to everyone:
1. Please protect your ear/s! Please think about others around you before you play extremely loud music.
2. Remember that disabilities/abilities are often not visible but still exist.
3. When talking to a deaf or hard of hearing person please talk at a slowish speed (not patronising) and you don’t need to open your mouth crazy large, as this doesn’t help us get familiar with your lip pattern, even my own family and close friends forget these things.
4. Everyone would benefit from learning in a more interactive way. It isn’t a big hassle, if in classrooms and meetings we organise the chairs into a circle so that we can all see each other and therefore communicate in an easier, more accessible way. So, let’s change the spacing and seating arrangements to be more open.
5. I would like to see everyone learning sign language. Its fun and expressive and helps many people who can hear but have difficulty processing. It makes sense. Apparently, it is now law that all school children will learn it, I think.
6. And lastly, deaf musicians exist and please collaborate and include them
Thank you!
Aileen Reid on Parenting and Lockdown
An insight into single parenting, ‘the guilt’ and coping in lockdown
There is something about parenthood that no-one will ever prepare you for. It’s compelling and enigmatic in its entirety. You think you’ve felt love before...and then you become a parent. Whoa. It’s a bit like sticking your head out of a speeding car window when you’re wee, and trying to take a big breath - it’s such an exhilarating feeling, laced with joy and uncertainty and everything in between. With the abundance of love, joy and contentment you feel, there comes an overwhelming amount of fear, guilt, despair, isolation, loneliness, inconceivable tiredness, guilt, exhaustion, guilt, tiredness, and did I mention guilt?!
The Guilt. About. Everything.
It’s an unequivocal fact about parenthood, and should be written in big, bold capitals on the tin. The guilt will consume you, no matter what job you have, no matter how many hours you work, no matter who looks after your child, no matter how happy they are... Guilt will ALWAYS find a way to make you feel awful for doing whatever you’re doing! I have no cure for this, I’m afraid. The only thing I know is that it doesn’t care how strong, how self-assured, and how good a nick your mental health is in...it is universal, ancient, and felt by all the mammies and daddies in the whole wide world.
Having a job that comes across as self-fulfilling, precarious, and slightly whimsical at times, lends itself to scrutiny, and “The Guilt”, on a regular basis. Multiply that by a trillion when you need childcare.
We live in a world where doing something you love - something you would ideally do if money wasn’t an issue - is what your hobby should be; not your job. The amount of times I’ve felt the pressure to get a “real” job... In truth, I’ve felt this pressure from opinions around me rather than from a financial perspective. I was lucky to play music from a very young age, and always had some form of an income from music. I had various jobs/careers from running a top floristry business to waitressing in casinos, but always found myself going back to touring and performing after struggling with the routine, and, quite honestly, how skint I was not being able to do gigs.
The stigma attached to being a musician, especially a folk musician, is so much so that I still find myself telling people my job is teaching yoga and music in schools and nurseries, before I’ll say that I’m a musician (I do actually teach these things - I’d be much more adventurous if I was just making it up!). I’ll admit that I re-trained as a Child Development Officer/Early Years Practitioner, before I admit that playing the fiddle is actually more suitable to family life...
We can’t win for losing, it seems these days. You either have a family too young and didn’t give your career a go, or you give your career a go and you’re leaving it a bit late for starting a family. The stigma attached to both edges of that sword - where to start?!
I count myself as very, very lucky. I was married at 23, and a mother at 24. Although I had toured world-wide in my teens and early twenties, my own personal musical career probably took off AFTER having a child. I can analyse everything until the cows come home, and there is no doubt that there were/are various contributing elements, but the primary factors for postnatal career success in music, in my eyes, include the following:
Becoming a parent kind of makes you get your shit together - you don’t have the same choices, time, energy, abilities, or freedom. You either do it, or you don’t, as there are twenty seven other things on your list of to do’s that day. You can put a professional plate spinner/juggler on your CV.
Badly paid gigs are not an option anymore. You have babes to feed and bills to cover, childcare costs, and the stress of it all needs to be justifiable. You form a sort of layer of armour when negotiating fees, because you have this newfound “reason” of why your time and skills are worth appreciating.
Your mental and physical health have been so high and so, so low that opportunities and adult interaction are a lifeline.
You see things differently.
Applicable to every musician, parent or not, but for me it happened when I became a mother.
It is almost impossible to do it all. Anti-social hours means childcare is such a challenge. Juggling who/where/what/when - between going to someone’s for the night or someone staying the night, packing up and zooming home as quickly as possible, primarily because the guilt is setting in so much after speaking to someone for longer than 10 seconds after you’ve finished your set whilst your baby might potentially be inconsolable, or thinking the babysitter is raging that you’re going to be later than you said you’d be...or the ones where something’s run over time before you start, and you could cry and scream that people think it’s OK to add this on to the other side. Little things like this at gigs, are huge when you’re a new parent in particular.
It’s almost impossible, but with a support network around you worth their weight in gold like I have, it’s doable. I suppose anything is though, isn’t it, when you have amazing support around you? That’s the key.
I tried the whole taking my baby to work with me thing, which was manageable when she was tiny and just slept and fed all the time, but when I heard her crying, or any baby for that matter...disaster!
Constant midnight flits, pacing around a tiny hotel room with a wide awake or crying baby, long journeys, pushing a pram through festival crowds, leaving your baby crying because it wants a feed but it’s time to go on stage - not the easiest to concentrate on what you’re playing because a) you’re riddled with guilt, and b) your bajongas are leaking milk for all the world to see.
It gets easier, though. You figure out what works and what doesn’t, for all involved, and sometimes that means you have to move out of your home for a few days, or you pack everything you’ve ever bought for a 15min performance, or sometimes it means you just don’t take the gig. What works for me, and this is only through my own personal experience, is trying to keep stress levels down as much as possible. For me, that means knowing my daughter is staying with someone she loves and is completely comfortable with, and I’ll arrange around what suits that aspect of the juggle. Children are usually always totally cool and sleep perfectly for other people (I have witnessed this firsthand with every other child I’ve looked after!), however, The Guilt listens to no-one... When the childcare provider says “they’re fine!”, it is usually 99.9% true. The 0.01% of doubt is usually The Guilt.
Every stage of a child’s development is wondrous and different, with each stage bringing a whole new level to the word “challenging”. If you can, remember to trust your instinct; ask for and accept help; and, embrace changes. Then you’ll start to learn how to cope with the juggle in your own way.
Who would have thought that the challenge I’d be facing at present would be isolation and homeschooling...
Lockdown and the impending scenario of no work for the foreseeable has impacted me as a parent, of course, but I’m going to be brutally honest and tell you the truth... I am built for this and in my element. Being airy-fairy my entire life has finally paid off! I find plans, which don’t go to plan, a lot more stressful than just going with the flow and seeing what happens.
Whilst it’s constant and tough going at times being a single parent during lockdown, I also think I’m more than pretty lucky to say the least. For a start, my daughter is now 5, and not 2 or 3. The difference between those ages and stages are like night and day. I discovered after day 2 or so that homeschooling is indeed, an absolute hoot. Not. So, we’re going for a more holistic approach, learning through play, and active, responsive learning for now. That means that by the time she’s in bed and asleep, my admin work gets started and emails are sent at 1am. I’d much rather do it this way, than try to juggle it while she’s awake. I’m used to being tired, but not used to being stressed out all the time, so I’ll stick with what I know for now...
I think my saving grace throughout isolation has been that I don’t live with another adult. It’s so easy (and natural) to deflect responsibility on to someone else because you’re tired, in pain, anxious, stressed, in a bad mood etc. Instead, I live only with an affectionate, caring, enthusiastic, magical wee firecracker in the form of my five year old daughter. Her enthusiasm is intrinsic to my being, and makes all pain, discomfort, and worry shrink to almost nothing.
My personal survival methods for coping with isolation at the moment are:
Take each day as it comes. Don’t stress about tomorrow, let alone next week or next month. Pay the bills this month and then think about next month.
Pick your battles. You will not win every war. Does it even need to be a war? There is no-one else to distract either of you just now, so do you really need to make this such a thing?
When you have a moment of creativity, seize it, record it. They are rare.
Video-calling tends to cause frustration, and is usually when it suits the adult rather than the child. Don’t let technology and bad vibes/frustration get in the way of happy times.
Embrace this precious time as much as possible, and make it as memorable as possible.
You don’t need to be anything or anywhere for anyone else for bloody ages. Get The Guilt to France for once.
Emily Smith on Parenting
It’s hard to choose a starting point for this blog as during my seven years of parenthood so far there have been many different approaches to the way my musician husband Jamie McClennan and I juggle our work and family life balance.
It’s hard to choose a starting point for this blog as during my seven years of parenthood so far there have been many different approaches to the way my musician husband Jamie McClennan and I juggle our work and family life balance. Hopefully the following will offer some glimmers of insight and helpful pointers for fellow artists and musicians embarking on a similar path.
Our son was born in 2013. Until that point we had been full time touring and recording musicians. Before starting a family we wanted to try and achieve some level of financial security and also have enough of a presence in our genre that if we were to disappear for a while it wouldn’t be completely detrimental to everything we had built up during the ten years we’d worked together. Having been self-employed for my entire career I knew there would be a gap in our income if I were to have a child so we worked hard at saving and making plans for work that could happen as close to home as possible to allow me to step back and enjoy the life change that was about to happen.
While I was pregnant with my son we created two albums, the first a compilation of tracks to mark the first decade of my career. We also recorded the bulk of my ‘Echoes’ album which was released the following year in 2014. Pregnancy was the easiest part for me, I kept well and was able to work until relatively late on before I ran out of puff to sing.
Becoming a mother was the biggest life change I have ever experienced, a complete shock initially and gradually through the fog of exhaustion, a realisation of hefty responsibility. Having been a freelance musician for my whole working life I suddenly had a tiny human to answer to 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! My entire perspective changed. Things that had previously seemed so important and stressful no longer bothered me in the slightest. It was actually quite liberating knowing that my decisions, especially professionally, weren’t all about me anymore.
Motherhood made me focus and the time that I got to spend on music became very streamlined. Practise for pure enjoyment disappeared entirely in those early years. I remember getting the baby to sleep, running downstairs to our recording studio in the cellar of the house and doing a maximum of three vocal takes, then running back upstairs before he would wake for the next feed. I would take care of my son through the day and once he was down for the first chunk of night sleep I would sit down with my laptop and begin my working day of admin. I achieved a lot and managed to keep my career ticking over during this time but it was exhausting and looking back now I don’t know how I did it.
The launch tour for Echoes happened when my son was ten months old, it was a two week long UK tour and kicked off with a launch show at Celtic Connections in the Old Fruitmarket. That was our first taste of touring with a baby. A lot of thinking and planning went into the prep for the tour and thankfully due to very easy going band mates and a friend coming along as a nanny, we made it work and it was a great experience. Touring with one child is challenging but entirely possible for our set up (both parents being on tour). In his first two years we toured the UK, Germany, Denmark and New Zealand with our son. Our parents have been a huge help along the way and we paid friends to be tour nannies too.
In 2016 our daughter arrived and during that pregnancy we recorded a Christmas album. Her arrival came at a very stressful point in our lives; we moved house five days before she was born, Jamie was in bed with the flu and it was the middle of winter. But, thankfully I had discovered hypnobirthing and I can honestly say it kept me calm throughout what could have been a complete nightmare of a week. (I can’t recommend hypnobirthing enough, the comparison of my two birth experiences couldn’t be more different).
Going from one child to two is a game changer. Not the full force blow of first time parenting but a challenge where you wish you could split yourself in two. Thankfully this was where for us as a couple, both being self employed worked in our favour. Jamie was at home, and could help keep our busy two year old entertained when I needed to sit and feed the baby.
We toured in the UK with our daughter as a baby and left our son at home with my parents but only for short stretches, four nights maximum. It was again possible to do but didn’t sit comfortably with me being away from my children for too long. So far we have only toured with two children in tow once. It was actually more like a working holiday around England where we filled the days with visits to farm parks and garden centres and played shows at night. Even taking my dad on tour as free childcare, it was a whole lot of work (bearing in mind the planning that goes into a tour in the months and sometimes years before the shows take place).
Now that our son is in school we are touring less and less. We considered lots of scenarios that might enable us to keep an active touring schedule but gradually came to the realisation that our children would be the ones who would bear the brunt of a lot of upheaval combined with tired, absent parents. That was a major shift for me to process internally, to give up the life we’d had, but the more I was away, the more guilt I felt being away from my kids.
After a year of adjustment I’m now much happier with the balance between being present for my children and the need to make money to pay the bills. Yes I could tour with other musicians and leave Jamie at home, likewise so could he and that scenario works well for several families we know. But we enjoy touring together, we enjoy making music together and so made the decision that we would rather diversify how we earn our living than work apart for much of our time. We also both have other interests and having been musicians for almost twenty years we’re now enjoying adding other avenues of work to our life.
Before lockdown I had been working with Fèis Rois for the last 18 months teaching traditional music to children in primary schools throughout our home region of Dumfries & Galloway. For the last two years I have run a music class for pre-schoolers in my local village. My daughter came with me from when she was nine months old until recently at age four she decided she’s too old for it now! I have various ideas for more musical groups and local projects for post lockdown but more so for once my children are both at school. My musical focus is now much more on what I can offer to my community than touring away from home. So I’m a different musician to the kind I was pre-motherhood. I still love performing and Jamie and I released a duo album under the name Smith & McClennan in November 2019. The shows we play tend to be within Scotland or if further afield need to be weighed up and mulled over as to how worthwhile they will be. We ran a series of Facebook live shows in the run up to our album release so we are already set up for sharing performances online during lockdown as many artists now are. The nature of our working lives has meant we’re used to having no safety net so the jolt of lockdown was perhaps not too much of shock to us, all of our live work for the year has been cancelled of course which is a loss, but thankfully due to our son being in school we had already started to move our financial reliance away from live shows. Prior to that we would have been dramatically affected by cancelled tours and I feel for those who are in this situation.
I think ultimately my advice, so far, is that it’s important to keep perspective. Children, especially the baby years have so many different phases and stages and bumps in the road that need to be worked through. And likewise us self employed musicians tend to go from one project to the next. We become used to change. If you can combine a busy working period with a relatively straight forward stage of parenting then well done, chances are it’ll all kick off at the same time!
My experience is that things will get tough, but know that all things come to an end point, good and bad. Looking back on those early years now I cherish those times and though there were points where I was so tired I couldn’t face going on to entertain an audience, it was often the easiest part of the day to just stand on stage with no one asking anything of me other than to sing. But a word of caution too, being present for small people from the early hours onwards takes its toll, if you then face going on stage until late at night, driving after a show and sleeping in a bed that’s not your own, then pace yourself. Say yes to help when it’s offered, connect with others in a similar situation, but keep in mind that the life you had previously isn’t sustainable once children come along. Be open to new things, adapt what you do or how you work for the period of life that you’re in. I know that in the years ahead when our children are less dependant on us then Jamie and I could potentially return to more of a performance based approach to being a musician, if we want to. But for now my priority is my children and being around for them. Sharing our gift and passion for music with them is one of the most rewarding experiences I can give them right now, especially in these unsettled times.