Music and Location: Lancashire and the South Pennines

I am going to explore some particular locations and their relationship with music. It might be an emotional response that connects the two or just the fact of music coming from a certain place that creates an association. I begin with my second home: Lancashire and the South Pennines.

When I was a teenager we moved from suburban North Manchester to a former mill-town in semi-rural Lancashire. The cotton industry was in decline but many of the old mills and chimneys still dotted the landscape and were being used for various business purposes. My sister, friends and I would walk up over the hill to explore, wandering across fields and climbing over stone walls. We found a disused quarry that was like a cavern with huge slabs of sandstone rocks all around. It was like another planet. Our favourite place though, was a mill pond where we would sit on summer days, looking for tadpoles or minnows and watching the swallows swooping and diving above the water. We could hear the noises of machinery from inside the mill but we didn’t see anyone come in or out. We weren’t sure whether we were allowed to be there but we claimed it as ours, as we roamed about, curious at this new landscape.

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A now stagnant mill pond or ‘lodge’

At that time, I also had a curiosity about classical music and we must have been listening to the music of the English composer, Delius, which, to us, had a dreamy quality that seemed to describe our carefree wanderings. We came to associate his music with this landscape and our mill lodge, as it was known locally, became for us, the Delian pond!

In fact, Delius had been born on the other side of the Pennines, over the moors, in Bradford, Yorkshire and spent his youth avoiding pressure from his father to follow him into his woollen business. His roots were part German, part Dutch. He lived in Florida, and Germany before settling in France, only returning to live in England for the duration of WW1. His music, in our minds, evoked our own romantic view of the English countryside and long summer days.

The music that perhaps is more appropriate for this landscape is the music of Lancashire Clog Dancers. From the beginning of the industrial revolution, Lancashire mill workers had worn clogs as everyday footwear. They were cheap, hardwearing and protected their feet from the wet and cold floors. The clogs had wooden soles, with iron shoes and leather uppers. The clacking sound they made on a stone flagged floor was perfect for tapping rhythms and mill-workers soon discovered their potential as a form of entertainment. Clog dancing became popular amongst workers and a few found a way out of mill-working by becoming professional dancers, performing in the popular music halls. Dance steps were invented that imitated the rhythms, movements and clattering noise of the machinery.

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The tradition gradually lost popularity and was in danger of dying out by the 1950s when a few enthusiasts and collectors of folk traditions began reviving interest in Lancashire clog dancing. They recorded the steps which continue to be danced to this day in clubs and societies which aim to promote the tradition.

The Oakenhoof Cloggers and the Black Nan Band, are one such organisation, which offers free weekly classes in clog dancing and music respectively. They are based in Littleborough, are open to all ages and perform regularly, including at the annual Rushbearing Festival.

Another clog dancing group, known as the Lancashire Wallopers, formed in 1981, in Leyland, perform at Festivals throughout the country and run an annual clog-dancing weekend aimed at all-levels from beginners to advanced, for dancers and musicians. The original members were taught by a well-known dancer and music-hall entertainer by the name of Samuel John Sherry (1912 – 2001). Sam, as he was known, had a popular following during the 1930s, along with the touring group he and his brothers formed: The Five Sherry Brothers. Sam started teaching (and performing again) in the 70s and 80s and as interest grew, he instigated the annual Lancashire and Cheshire Clog Dancing Competitions.

Outside of Lancashire, the English Folk Dance and Song Society  based at Cecil Sharp House in London have a group: Camden Clog who run classes and workshops based on the East Lancashire style preserved for future generations by Pat Tracey (1927 – 2008). Pat was a talented clog dancer from the Lancashire town of Nelson, who was living in London at the time that the English Folk Dance Society (as it was then) were looking for teachers. She was responsible for teaching many of the dances that are still danced, which she had learnt from her parents whose knowledge had been passed on through the generations, dating back to the mid 19th century.

The music for Lancashire clog dancing seems to be based on hornpipes and jigs which suit the clickety, clackety dance steps. Some Irish and Scottish tunes also seem to have been amalgamated into the Lancashire clog dance repertoire. Popular instruments appear to be fiddle and squeeze-box.

I am going to give this a go and find out more about it but in the meantime, here’s a clip of the Lancashire Wallopers making it look so easy!

 

To learn more about Lancashire Clog Dancing or to join in:

Oakenhoof Cloggers

Lancashire Wallopers

Camden Clog

 

was responsible for teaching many of the dances that are still danced today: heel toe, hornpipe and waltzes which she had learned  from her parents whose knowledge had been passed on through the generations, dating back to 1800s.was responsible for teaching many of the dances that are still danced today: heel toe, hornpipe and waltzes which she had learned  from her parents whose knowledge had been passed on through the generations, dating back to 1800s.was responsible for teaching many of the dances that are still danced today: heel toe, hornpipe and waltzes which she had learned  from her parents whose knowledge had been passed on through the generations, dating back to 1800s.

was responsible for teaching many of the dances that are still danced today: heel toe, hornpipe and waltzes which she had learned  from her parents whose knowledge had been passed on through the generations, dating back to 1800s.

 

Those Who Can – Teach!

A couple of years into my first cello-teaching job, I went to visit my former cello teacher in Harrogate: Pauline Dunn. I was trying out a new cello and wanted her opinion. When I finished playing to her, aware that I was out of practice, I was taken aback when she said: “I like your bowing.”

“Well you taught me how to bow”, I said, but she pointed out that my bowing was more flexible, relaxed and producing a better sound than the last time she had heard me. I wondered how it could have improved as my cello practice had just been ticking over since my final degree exam and I had spent most days teaching beginners. Then she really surprised me, saying: “it’s because you’ve been teaching”.

It was then that I started to realise that teaching had reciprocal benefits: all that time thinking about the bow hold, analysing and explaining the mechanics of coaxing a sound from a string and showing children how to practise, had had the effect of improving my own bowing technique!

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The more I had thought about how to facilitate my students’ learning, the more I had developed as a musician, consolidating my knowledge and skills. This ‘self improvement’ effect forms the basis of a useful teaching technique: ask a student to teach another student how to play a particular phrase and it is actually of benefit to both students. Have you ever experienced explaining something and afterwards thinking: “I didn’t know I knew that until I explained it”?

So for anyone thinking that teaching is going to harm their performing career, think again. You may find it has the opposite effect and enhances your musical performance.

Believe in your students’ potential and they will blossom. Enjoy teaching and you will blossom too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Floral Dance

In 1977, one of my fellow students at Huddersfield School of Music, attracted a flurry of attention – not for his good looks, his Scottish accent, his humorous banter but because amazingly to us normal mortals, he was going to perform on television – on Top of the Pops! Following in the footsteps of the Beatles, the Stones, the Kinks, there he was: a cornet player with – none other than – Brighouse and Rastrick band! Incredibly to modern sophisticated taste, they had a hit with a tune called the Floral Dance. They sold half a million copies and made it to number 2 in the charts, losing out to Paul McCartney with his interminable Mull of Kintyre.

I was reminded of this moment of second hand fame when a sheet music copy of the song turned up during my ongoing clear-out.

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There he is in the photo on the front cover, eighth from the right. I can’t remember his real name. We called him, affectionately, but with hindsight not very imaginatively or politically correctly: ‘Haggis’. As the only Scot around, he accepted the name, along with the plaudits that came with his claim to fame.

Since then, I have come across the tune in different guises: it is popular in instrumental tutor books and often known as the Furry Dance or to be more precise the Helston Furry Dance. This is, of course, the original tune dating back at least to the 1800s and belongs to a (probably pagan) tradition, from the town of Helston in Cornwall, that continues to this day. The tune is played by Helston Town Band at the annual event which now involves a children’s as well as the traditional couples’ dance. It turns out that the Floral Dance was written by Katie Moss in 1911, inspired by a visit to Helston on Flora Day: the day in early May when the locals celebrate the coming of spring, wearing a sprig of lily of the valley, as the dancers and musicians parade the streets. At first she was a bit of a (excuse the pun) ‘wallflower’ but by the end of the day she had found a boy to dance with her. Head whirling (I imagine) on the train home she wrote a song about her day and set it to a variant of the tune of the Furry Dance. Ah! We’ve all been there, haven’t we?

Here’s Moss’s Floral Dance in a gramophone recording from 1934 sung by Peter Dawson:

And a silent film of the Furry Dance from 1921:

My favourite is this Pathé film from 1955 which sets the scene perfectly:

So what shall I do with that sheet music? Keep, recycle or charity shop?