As the slightly lighter month of April bounds away, its (incessant) showers make way for the 5am insanity of May Day in Oxford. Those nimble and jaunty little madrigals underpin a sense of magic through which we are welcomed into the “month of Maying”. Whatever the action “Maying” entails (though hopefully not Morris dancing), this song allows us to embody its full spirit however we see fit: Champagne and strawberries are my JCR president’s fabulous interpretation of the verb. Otherwise, maybe a frolick in a field (wheat is optional), or a nice wassail with friends at Bridge are appropriate. It’s the month of Maying, so go forth and May!
There are many odd tropes which repeat themselves throughout the famous folk repertoire. Every encounter between lovers occurs, exclusively, on a May morning, and ends in either joy or tragedy. Folk music does tragedy well, albeit predictably. Drowning (“Clementine”) or a broken heart (“Fair Margaret”) are the typical causes of death. In a slightly lesser-used plot twist, getting mistaken for a swan and then shot by a hunter (“Polly Vaughn”) makes for quite the demise. Typically, pretty little feet and/or beautiful cheeks (brought to you by “Myfanwy”, the Vale of Llangollen’s most eligible bachelorette) are the physical features which introduce a fair young maiden. This fair maid will end up in one of two positions: marrying the male narrator, or ruing the day she refused the proposal, the latter of which precedes death. Further, if this poor woman can’t be appropriately moved to accept her suitor, he’ll end the song by cursing her beauty, specifically the woe it works upon her lover (“Y Deryn Pur”).
It’s easy to find the idea of folk music a blast from the past which, while a nice tradition for ten minutes on one day of the year, should remain restricted to this occasion. On a day-to-day basis, wouldn’t you get sick of the nonny noes? Or the desperate rhymes? (See “Molly Malone” and the “fever/save her” verse, a disgrace to all rhyming dictionaries.)
Apart from folk songs’ relative textural and melodic simplicity, many of the recordings are of terrible quality. We can’t all make it to the live festivals around which much of the modern folk scene orbits, nor would most students fit the typical age demographic of such events. Despite all this, the struggle of finding a folky tune good enough for your Trinity soundtrack is well worth the effort.
Folk music is immersive and fun. This applies if you boast Celtic connections, or even if not. It’s enough to have an appreciation for Hardy-esque rural landscapes depicted throughout the music. If Bonnie Prince Charlie’s unsuccessful campaign to become Bonnie King Charlie is your passion, then you’re in luck! Lin Manuel Miranda could make a musical from the breadth of songs available on this theme. From Robbie Burns’s undeniable bangers to the more rhythmic whaling tunes (see “The Bonnie Ship the Diamond”), folk is a beautiful excuse to interact with the daily bread and butter of so many before us. I’ve never taken the steamer which leaves Oban and passes Tiree, but it sounds like a deliciously specific joy. Nor, to my regret, have I ever been betrayed by a frolicsome damsel, resulting in my imminent transportation (The Black Velvet Band). Again, a highly unique permutation of events with which I, nonetheless, completely identify. I’m entranced by that young lady’s black hairpiece –- he’s right, it really brings out her eyes! In the song’s Peaky Blinders exposition, Tommy Shelby is similarly blind to the plans of his future wife, Grace, who sings this song to him while betraying his secrets to Inspector Campbell. The song offers just the right balance of detachment and relatability such that this writing decision works well in the BBC show.
Related differences can hit even closer to home. For example, when I hear my Arran-raised Gran’s favourite Burns song, “The Dark Island”, I crawl into the mental life of a wistful expat from the Hebrides, annoying all the mainlanders by repeatedly wishing I were home again. Gran likes to tell me, with some glee, that her own “Dark Island” didn’t have proper toilets, and that she and her schoolmates lived on syrup sandwiches. Equally, though, Arran was her place, and has formed her perspective on the world. The place where she raised a family of her own, Scottish new town East Kilbride – though offering modern infrastructure – would never compare, and we, like the mainland Scots of the song, are certainly made aware of this!
The key to this feeling of connectedness is a good arrangement of the melody, one which reinforces and reinvents. It might be that Morris dancers are good for May Day only, but a judicious selection below aims to put the ‘rock’ into “The Rocky Road to Dublin” (1,2,3,4,5!), and get you ready for a summer walk/Ceilidh (delete as appropriate) in Port Meadow.
- Fara: “The Road Home”
Fara are an all-female band from Orkney. A confident and jazzy arrangement is offered here, with references to the local St Magnus. In the absence of time to visit Orkney which life/Trinity presents to us, what more could you want?
- Loreena McKennitt: “The Star of the County Down”
Side note: Until I was a fresher, I’d never met anyone from Co. Down. I now know two! (Star status: pending). The version by Sean Dagher is also excellent and featured in Assassin’s Creed.
- Cimarron and Catrin Finch: “Tros y Garreg”
A musical fusion using Colombian instrumental and vocal techniques, putting the gorgeous and Welsh melody (the terms are interchangeable) to good use.
- Kate Rusby: “Wild Mountain Thyme”
I have been to see Rusby live, but the recording will still do her justice.
- Clwb Cymru: “Myfanwy”
I’ve subjected many of my very patient friends to another Clwb Cymru hit, “Sospan Fach”, but this one is even better. The incongruity of a crooning, broken man’s song (‘Why have you left me, Myfanwy?’) set to club-style synthesisers is seriously enjoyable.
- Manran: “Oran Na Cloiche”
Manran is a very popular gaelic-speaking, folk-rock band. “Latha Math” is also a great listen.
- High Kings: “Fields of Athenry”
If you can’t make an Irish rugby game, this manicured version is good in its own way. If you want a more atmospheric listen, the Dubliners’ version is for you.
- Cara Dillon: “Bonny Bonny”
This song has a slightly slow start, but stick around. It is worth it for the ‘beat drop’ at 1:40, and then a further entry of the instrumental at ‘I sigh with deep regret’. Exquisite.