Black Chalk  
Christopher J. Yates  
Picador 2015  
352 pp. 

There’s something wrong with this book — or there’s something wrong with me. I say that because there were parts of this book that I really enjoyed but I was perplexed by some of the premises on which the plot is based and by an ending that seemed … lame? pointless? certainly unsatisfying. A blurb from the The New York Post describes the author as “A new Stephen King, albeit with a British accent”. I’m not really conversant with King’s work and my interest in horror fiction ended during high school when science-fiction took my fancy. (I still have fond memories of the frissons of terror attending my explorations of the 13th Pan Book of Horror Stories). And that British accent is really an English accent; shades of The Glittering Prizes or Brideshead Revisited.  

The story concerns a group of friends who meet during the first term of university. There’s the brilliant, eccentric, charismatic and probably wealthy main character who holds the group together and, within that group, there’s the mandatory outsider — in this case an American student also attending Pitt College, a fictional branch of Oxford University. There are a couple of young, attractive interesting women and two somewhat overwrought young men — six in all. And as the blurb says — “One game. Six students. Five survivors”.  

The premise of the story is that these six best friends invent a game. It involves a mixture of cards and dice, skill and chance — the details are never explained and don’t need to be. The important thing is that the penalty for losing is a series of forfeits that are designed to bring a form of petty humiliation to the loser. Overseeing all this is an increasingly sinister trio from what appears to be a secret society called The Game Soc. Over time, as these friends get to know each other better, the stakes increase and the forfeits become more vicious and very personal. Intriguing premise, I thought. 

The book begins some fourteen years after the penultimate round of the game was played. A showdown is looming between the narrator, who is only identified after several chapters and a final opponent also later identified. As the narrator recounts the history of the game we get to know the people involved and the circumstances that lead to the denouement.  

Now, here’s the problem for me: I didn’t get it. It’s obvious that any number of people loved this book and found it thrilling — a glowing NPR review was my inspiration for a impulse purchase. Is there a subtlety that I’m missing? Is it my unfamiliarity with the genre? I don’t mind implausibility but I have to want to suspend disbelief and, in this case, I simply wanted to shout “Stop it — that’s not how friends behave!” Friends do, of course, betray friends but for more insidious reasons than winning a game. There is no reason that I can fathom why the game wasn’t stopped when people started getting hurt. And the reason that it had do be resumed after fourteen years and an outright winner declared was even less convincing.  

On the other hand, this is a well-written book and at times downright charming. For instance a description of the early stage of the friendship is described thus: “The eighth and final week of term became a time of celebration. The horse-chestnut leaves had fallen and Christmas was coming. Their days were cool and reeled along slowly. Nights buzzed by fast, warm with companionship and the air full of laughter.”  That’s a lovely description and this book is full of elegant and engaging writing but I was frustrated by the unconvincing plot. But, as I’ve said, many people seem to like this book so all I can say is caveat lector.

Mellow Moist Low-Fat Chocolate Cake  

It doesn’t seem that long ago that low-fat recipes were all the rage and and a sort of panacea for losing weight and maintaining cardio health. This was a little unfortunate in that many fine things such as eggs, butter and even olive oil became dietetically verboten. That has all changed a good deal recently but I’d still like to introduce you to this recipe, because I think it makes a very good cake even though the complete fat content is one egg yolk. I dragged it out a couple of weeks ago. Some friends were coming to dinner and one was having gall bladder trouble and needed to restrict the fat in her diet. I like a good challenge — Colcannon Christmas dinner at one time needed to accommodate vegetarian, lactose-intolerant and gluten-free diet preferences and it was always fun to come up with a festive dinner.  

I found the recipe in a book called CookWise by Shirley Corriher which deals with the science of cooking and offers recipes for how to apply that science to one’s cooking. It’s an intriguing read and the recipes are very good.  

You’ll see below that it calls for puréed sweet potato. You’ll save yourself some time and work by using two 4 oz jars of sweet potato baby food. 

Ingredients:  

1 cup (250 mL) no-fat sour cream 
5 tablespoons (75 mL) Dutch processed cocoa powder 
1 large egg 
1 large egg white 
2/3 cup (150 mL) pureed baked sweet potato, cooled (1 large, about 3/4 pound/350 g) 
1 tablespoon (15 mL) vanilla extract 
1 ounce (30 g) unsweetened chocolate, melted 
3/4 cup (175 mL) cake flour 
1/2 cup (125 mL) packed light brown sugar 
1/2 cup (125 mL) granulated sugar 
3/4 teaspoon (4 mL) baking powder 
1/4 teaspoon (1 mL) baking soda 
1/2 teaspoon (2 mL) salt 
Icing sugar, optional 
Preparation: 
Grease 9-inch (23 cm) round cake pan and line with parchment or wax paper. Grease circle. Lightly dust bottom and sides with flour.  

Put sour cream in large bowl. Sift cocoa through sieve on to sour cream and stir together. Add egg and egg white. Beat for 1 minute. Add sweet potato puree, vanilla and melted chocolate; beat well.  

Combine and sift together cake flour, brown and granulated sugars, baking powder, baking soda and salt into medium bowl. Stir half the flour mixture into cocoa mixture. Add remaining flour mixture and stir well. Scrape down sides with each addition. Pour batter into prepared pan and smooth the surface with a rubber spatula.  

Bake at 350º F (180º C) for 25 to 30 minutes or until cake springs back when pressed lightly in centre. Do not overbake.  

Let cake cool in pan on rack for 10 minutes. Invert cake on to rack sprayed with nonstick cooking spray; let cool completely. Just before serving dust with icing sugar.  

Makes 8 to 10 servings. 
Approximate nutritional analysis for each of 8 servings: 232 calories, 4.7 g protein, 2.8 g fat, 48.8 g carbohydrate. 

James Joyce: a new biography  
Gordon Bowker  
Farrar, Straus and Giroux. New York 2011  
656 pp.  

To celebrate the 100th birthday of Joyce in 1982, I read Richard Ellman’s magisterial biography of the writer and it’s still, I feel, the best work on the man. This book admits its debt to Ellman and also to the 1939 biography by Herbert Gorman, which I’ve not read and which was heavily edited by Joyce himself — so much so, that Gorman never forgave Joyce and never wrote another biography.  

Joyce is the giant of modernist writing and his work glorifies the common person as hero — Bloom, the wandering Jew, is no less than Ulysses; Earwicker, the sleeping publican is repository of all the world and its workings. People are common, straightforward but also hugely complex. And thus it was with Joyce. He was in many ways a very timid man — terrified of thunderstorms and dogs —but he was also hugely courageous. He left Ireland with nothing but his talent and a determined vow of ‘non serviam’, ‘I will not obey’, a expression first uttered by Lucifer and quoted by Stephen Dedalus, Joyce’s alter ego in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Indeed, one of the pleasures of this book is Bowker’s identification of the real-life people and events that appear in Joyce’s books as fiction.  

In Europe, Joyce initially lived in abject poverty with his mistress Nora Barnacle, teaching English in his own haphazard way and writing the books for which he was to become famous. During this period he was touted by the literary giants of the time as a genius but found it incredibly difficult to get published. Some of this was due to the moral climate of the day being in conflict with Joyce’s straight-forward language. In time, as he did get published and money began to come in both from book royalties and the generosity of friends and admirers, Joyce moved on to a life of flagrant self-indulgence and reckless over-spending. But he was always strapped for money, always pleading for loans, advances and donations — and always spending like a fiend. His daughter, Lucia, had to be institutionalized with schizophrenia, and that also drained his resources and caused much dissension in the family. He had to have endless rounds of eye surgery — a condition that in recent years some have tried to attributed to syphilis, a diagnosis which Bowker roundly rejects. But mostly it was his own reckless and profligate ways that left his family in penury when he died in 1941. 

Joyce, except for one short visit, never returned to Ireland and indeed, the Irish government refused to repatriate his body when he died. He imagined that he had scores of enemies that sought his destruction, at same time he was been spoken of as deserving of the Nobel Prize. The Irish Catholic Church and the bourgeois middle class regarded his work and person as “not truly Irish” — a judgement one time leveled at Yeats by Irish nationalists — but his relationship with Ireland, or more particularly Dublin, was deep and all-pervading in his work.  

This book gives many insights into his character. He remained in many ways ungrateful to those who helped him, even ridiculing them privately. He could hold pointless grudges but be a loyal friend — he helped to smuggle Jewish friends out of Europe as the Nazis approached Paris, at no small risk to himself. He could be dour and taciturn the turn around and perform comic dances or sing sentimental ballads at the piano.  

And yet through all the complexity and conflicted relationships with people and ideas, he remains a heroic figure, dedicated to his work. As fragments of the work that was to be known as Finnegans Wake began to emerge, the reactions were almost all negative. His long-suffering brother, Stanislaus, told him angrily that he was wasting his talent — but Joyce persisted through many and great difficulties producing a book, that while it is almost never read, is a colossus of literature and a monument to the perversity of Joyce’s genius. It’s also hugely funny. 

I remember trying to explain the wonders of the ‘chip butty’ to a group of people online — a ‘chip butty’ is french fry sandwich. It requires something like Wonder Bread (two slices), butter, french fries and salt and pepper. Some people like ketchup or brown sauce on it. Before too long the discussion changed as those familiar with the butty joined in and topics migrated to what kind of mayonnaise should be used and what kind of oil the fries should be cooked in. One woman was adamant about what would be the proper type of artisanal bread to best serve the idea. And while there are probably no end of ways to expand and improve the chip butty, sometimes all you want is a … chip butty.  

In the same vein, this following recipe is often looked at askance for the use of the two starches — potatoes and pasta, rather than the bread and fries above. But I think this a fine recipe just the way it is. It’s my fallback recipe when I can’t think of what to eat for dinner. It’s quick, simple and very good. It originally appeared in a book called ‘365 Ways to Cook Pasta’ but since I haven’t looked at the recipe in a long time, I’ll give you my version of it for two people.  

¼ cup or less of olive oil  

¼ teaspoon or more of red pepper flakes  

1 clove of garlic, thinly sliced  

half of a red bell pepper sliced thinly  

5 oz pasta — I use bow ties (farfalle)  

8 oz of potatoes in roughly 1 inch dice  

6 oz broccoli florets  

salt  

black pepper  

Place the potatoes in salted cold water and bring to a boil.  

Boil for 8 minutes and add the pasta.  

When the pot comes back to a boil, time for another 6 minutes  

Add the broccoli and boil for another 6 minutes.  

Meanwhile sauté the red bell and garlic in the olive oil. When the potato, pasta and broccoli mix has cooked, drain, return to the pot, add the oil and red bell and garlic. salt and pepper and mix well. Serve on warm plates or soup bowls.  

Grated parmesan on top makes a nice addition but I often skip it. 

The Chip Butty: 

It’s March — “the mad March days” and certainly the craziest time of the year for us. As well as seasonal concerts we’ll also be teaching again at Colorado College in Colorado Springs. The Music of Ireland, MU 395 with Dr. Victoria Lindsay Levine. Lots of hands-on learning of tunes and student creative endeavours.  

I’ll be teaching  lot of the history and background on this course so, I’ve not been doing a lot of purely recreational reading of late. It’s mostly been fairly academic stuff pertaining either to traditional Irish music — for obvious reasons — or to James Joyce, of whose work I’m a huge fan. On this front, I’ve been intrigued by The Books at the Wake — A Study of Literary Allusions in James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake by James S. Atherton. I had recently read Dotter of her Father’s Eyes, a graphic memoir/biography by Mary M. Talbot and illustrated by her husband Bryan Talbot.






     









     
It’s partly a brief biography of Joyce’s daughter, Lucia, and partly a memoir of growing up as the daughter of James Atherton. Both women — Lucia and Mary — sought their fathers’ approval and love and neither of them received it. The book is smart and observant and, ultimately sad. I was intrigued to read Atherton’s book a) to learn more about Finnegans Wake and b) to get a bead on Atherton the man. I found out all sorts of interesting things — for instance, the huge influence of Lewis Carrol on Joyce — and I also found Atherton an engaging writer in a subject that could be very dry. He seemed to me to be a fairly affable personality but that doessn’t always make for being a good parent. Both books were good reads and if you’re a Joyce fan, you’ll enjoy them. 

On the traditional Irish music front I’ve been reading Donal O’Sullivan’s biography of the harper Turlough O’Carolan which has many insights about the state of Ireland during the 17th century. I’m finding it a good companion to Daniel Corkery’s Hidden Ireland, a history of that same period. I’ve also been looking into Traditional Music and Irish Society: Historical Perspectives by Martin Dowling. I’m only part way through this but it’s a comprehensive study of the social place of Irish traditional music from the 18th century through the late 20th century. It’s a little too comprehensive for my current explorations but a fascinating read and a book that I expect to come back to many times.  

On the more recreational side, I’ve been enjoying Mostly Short, Mostly True Stories from Ireland by Jim Remington (Pineglenn Press). It’s a book of thirty-one short stories about Jim’s travels in Ireland and have that delightful, slightly quirky charm that tends to abound when one is footloose on the byways of Ireland. It’s a slim volume and I’ve been rationing myself to a story here and there. It’s good stuff.  

I’ve also read a couple of mysteries to relax. The Crossing by Michael Connelly and Priests of the Shadow Bible by Ian Rankin. I gave the first to Jean for Christmas and she gave me the Rankin. Oddly enough, the books are very similar. If you’re familiar with these writers you’ll know that they’re friends and that both their main protagonists, Harry Bosch in the case of Connelly and John Rebus in the case of Rankin, are very similar characters. Both are past middle age and retired from regular police work at police, They’re rebels and lone-wolves, who were constantly in trouble with their superiors for insubordination and unorthodox methods. In these two latest book there’s also a similarity in plot. In The Crossing, Bosch agrees (reluctantly) to work as an investigator for his half-brother, Micky Haller, a defense attorney. This is regarded as some kind of treason by his old colleagues. Rebus, on the other hand, agrees to co-operate with the Complaints department of his police force, who are investigating possible wrong-doing in a squad that Rebus was a member of many years before. Again, this is regarded as a kind of betrayal and it forces Rebus to make hard decisions about loyalty and affection for his old comrades.  

I enjoyed both books. The Connelly moved faster and was easier to follow. The Rankin was a more complicated story but felt a little over-written. Rebus’ wry wit seemed a bit contrived and I found it a bit slow-going in places. Connelly is a storyteller and seems to make a point of keeping that central to his work. Rankin is a fine writer but he strikes me, in this book, as being a little fond of his own voice. Still, I enjoyed both books as a relief from more taxing reads.  

For this month’s recipe I’d like to recommend a recipe that I found on the New York Times Cooking page. I’m a fan of their cooking section and I find things there that help me expand my horizons. This farro salad by Charlie Bird is excellent. Very satisfying as either a Summer or Winter salad. It would also make a fine side salad with fish — grilled trout, for instance. As with all NYT recipes, you probably won’t need to change too much to make it to your liking as most of the NYT recipes that I’ve ever tried, seemed to be perfect as they were.  

Enjoy.

Black Bean Pizza 

For years I never really understood pizza. I'd had many pizzas that I'd liked and a few (always commercial brands) that were more than a mystery to me. But, somehow, the soul of pizza had not been revealed to me. Then one day I came across a copy of Elizabeth David's Italian Cooking and, as I was perusing it, I found what I hadn't even known I was looking for - Pizza Napolitana. Pizza crust, chopped tomatoes, anchovies, mozzarella and basil. Inspired simplicity -- a perfect meld of flavors. Every other pizza is descended from it. So I made it and have been making it, and other pizza, ever since. (Check out any Elizabeth David books you can find. They're great reading and full of wonderful recipes.) 

Over the years I have experimented with different toppings. The basic idea of pizza is, of course, very simple and an open invitation to such tinkering. You make--or buy--a crust and you pile some stuff on it and bake the whole thing for 15 to 20 minutes. I like to make the crust myself--I like the process and I think you get a better result. The first Pizza crust I ever made looked like a map of Treasure Island, so don't be discouraged if your first attempts are less than perfect.  
Crust 

• 1 cup (slightly heaped) flour (about a cup and a quarter) 

• 2 1/4 teaspoons of yeast 

• 1/2 teaspoon salt 

• 1 teaspoon of sugar or honey 

the above dissolved in: 

• quarter pint of lukewarm water 

stir in 

• 1 Tablespoon olive oil 

Place the flour in a large bowl and slowly add the water/oil mixture using the handle of a wooden spoon to stir. (I now have a fancy implement like the one Father Dominic uses but a wooden spoon handle works well too.) If needed, use more water until, quite suddenly, everything comes together and a 'ball' forms. Flour your counter-top, your hands and sprinkle a little on the dough 'ball' to avoid sticking. Place the ball on the counter and knead for several minutes. Spray a plate with some aerosol oil--Pam, or some such product--cover with a cloth and put somewhere warm. I usually pre-heat an oven on low then turn off the heat and place it in there for an hour. Somewhere cooler will take longer. While the dough rises make the topping.  
Mix together: 

• 1 14oz. can of black beans, rinsed and drained (you'll actually only use about three-quarters of the can) 

• Half a red onion, chopped 

• 2 teaspoons cumin 

• 1/4 quarter cup chopped cilantro--or more to taste 

• 6 oz. mozzarella grated 

• 2 oz. cheddar grated 

• Salt - to taste 

When the dough has risen roll it out to desired thickness on a floured surface. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Brush the dough with olive oil and sprinkle very lightly with red pepper flakes. Add the topping and spread evenly. Decorate the top with tomato slices and thin strips of Anaheim pepper or some other mild pepper. Bake in the oven for 15 minutes. 

All of this is kind of approximate so feel free to modify to your taste.  
Enjoy.

The Girl on the Train  
Paula Hawkins  
Riverhead Books 2015 

I avoided this book for a long time. The fact that it was a #1 bestseller was part of the reason and the fact that so many commentaries likened the plot to something by Gillian Flynn made me wonder if this book were merely another popular variation on the ‘unreliable narrator’ theme. I’d already done a review of Gone Girl and was loathe to invest time in what might turn out to be a variation on that theme. But the book showed amazing staying power in its sales and I saw a copy at the airport for 50% off so I decided to give it a try. I’m glad I did.  

The main narrator and unlikely heroine of the story is Rachel. She’s a mess. She’s a self-pitying, raging alcoholic who drunk-dials her ex-husband, suffers from blackouts and whose half-drunken fantasies, wishful daydreams and shattered memory lead to all sorts of misunderstandings and erroneous conclusions.  

Then there’s “Jess”, whom Rachel sees each day from the train she commutes on, and who seems, in sharp contrast to Rachel’s own life, to have an ideal marriage with “Jason”. We also get “Jess’s” story up until she disappears suddenly.  

Then, there’s the commentary from Anna, new wife of Rachel’s ex, who also happens to be a neighbour of “Jess”.  

All three narrators are unreliable for different reasons and with different purposes, but there are no sneaky tricks being played, no deus ex machina at the end to prop up the plot. It’s as much an examination of the limits of human knowledge given how easy it is to misunderstand, jump to conclusions or ignore the obvious as it is a tightly plotted thriller.  

It’s a dark book. It’s a book where sympathetic characters are rare and sometimes not-that-sympathetic. Even the ‘nice’ person in the book, Rachel’s roommate/landlady is described: “Cathy’s a nice person in a forceful sort of way. She makes you notice her niceness. Her niceness is writ large, it is her defining quality and she needs it acknowledged often, daily almost, which can be tiring.” And making drunken Rachel the centre of the book was a brave and, ultimately, successful move. As I said above, she’s a mess: unreliable, self-absorbed and endlessly letting herself and others down. She’s let herself go and observes that men now seem to find her distasteful. She’s deeply lonely but makes no meaningful attempt to change. A not untypical alcoholic. In fact, the depiction of Rachel’s alcoholism made me wonder if the author has or had a drinking problem. Turns out that she doesn’t, but the descriptions of Rachel’s alcoholic troubles are so utterly convincing that I felt I had to see if the author was writing from her own experience. That, too, may be a reason why some people have had difficulty staying with the book. One friend didn’t get past the first twenty pages, declaring the book “too dark”. And yes, it’s dark and there are some unlikable people in the story, but it’s a very good read that leads to a very satisfying conclusion.

Well, Thanksgiving is over and a lovely time it was, too. All the band members were here, the food was great and the company better. More about that below. And, of course, since it’s the beginning of the Christmas season, it’s the time when we start rehearsing our Christmas show again. 

We first started performing this over a decade ago and we tried very hard to find material that was a bit less-known but also had that holiday feel. So, to honor the religious aspect of the season we have a number of songs around the Bethlehem theme; Jake Thackray’s ‘Remember Bethlehem’ may be my favorite. The story is imagined in a more familiar setting than far-off Palestine, so all the flora and fauna — a simple metaphor for all creation — is more native to the British Isles than the Middle East. 

I know your nightingale remembers it still 

Your pussywillow and your daffodil

Even the stony old hills 

Remember Bethlehem 

And Mary herself — never mentioned by name until the last verse — is described”

It was ever so cold

She was far away from home

She was not very old 

She was only a shabby little country girl 

In a similar vein, The Hub of Eternity by Geoffrey Turner sees the story from the point of view of the shepherds and is told in Northern English dialect:

It were cold out on the hillside

The frost gleamed on the rocks 

‘Twere a night for thermal undies 

And wooly, hand-knit socks 

‘Rug Muire Mac do Dhia’ (Mary Bore a Son to God) and Do’n Oíche Úd i mBeithil (To That Night in Bethlehem) continue the story with two old Irish carols. 

Cynthia has written a tune for us, the Deck the Hall Reel, and Jean contributes The Hogmanay Hornpipe. (Hogmanay is New Year’s Eve in Scotland.) 

Mike gets to sing a couple of songs — Christmas in Brooklyn, by the redoubtable Erik Frandsen, and BeBop Santa Claus. Both of these songs are squarely in the secular end of the spectrum and great fun. And Brian adds the instrumental tune The Blue Ducks — a favorite of mine. 

There’s a bunch a tunes with Christmas in the title, a goodly number with bad weather in the title and all-in-all, it’s a nice mixture of reverent, miserable, silly and fun. 

The show is a little different every year, but we try to hang on to the favorites — it is a time for tradition, after all! 

So here are few tunes songs for you to listen to — hope you like.

This month’s recipe is for Tiramisu. This was served up at our recent Thanksgiving feast by Jean’s sister, Mary Harrison, and was a big hit. All of the food was just great but this was served at the end and boosted spirits as the alkaline tide of digestion was rolling in. 

This version has been modified by Mary to be gluten-free and is none the worse for it. It’s best made the day before and allowed to rest properly. 

And, as always, be careful with eggs that don’t get cooked. 

2 eggs 

2 egg yolks 

12 tablespoons sugar

500 grams mascarpone (1 large tub)

1 cup heavy whipping cream

Pinch of salt

10 tablespoons Marsala

2 cups espresso, plus more if needed

3 packets ladyfingers — Mary recommends Schar brand, gluten-frree lady fingers found at Whole Foods and just right for a 9X13 inch pan.

1 whole cup chopped semisweet chocolate 

Directions

Place the 2 eggs and 2 whole egg yolks in an electric mixer bowl and add approximately 8 tablespoons of sugar. With whisk attachment beat until the mixture forms a good ribbon (should nearly have soft peaks). Once the correct consistency is achieved, whisk in the Mascarpone cheese. In a separate bowl, whip the cream along with 2 tablespoons sugar and a pinch of salt.

Once hard peaks form, add the whipped cream to the egg/Mascarpone mixture and beat until smooth, adding approximately 2 tablespoons Marsala.

In a separate bowl, pour the hot espresso and add 2 tablespoons sugar and 8 tablespoons Marsala. If there’s anyone who’s avoiding alcohol you can heat the Marsala gently in a saucepan until the alcohol evaporates, then add to the coffee. But do check with anyone who might have a problem as people have different tolerances and it’s not always possible to remove all the alcohol.

Assembly: One at a time, quickly dip each biscuit in the espresso mixture. Set them aside, then dip again. The guten-free ladyfingers are bigger than standard and need a bit more coffee/Marsala to get them moist. Don’t be tempted to soak them — they’ll go soggy and part of the charm will be lost.  Place them on the bottom of a 9 by 13 glass baking pan. Continue until you have an entire layer of biscuits on the bottom of the pan.

Using a spatula spread half of the mascarpone cream over the biscuits. Repeat the process above to make a second layer. This should fill the pan.

Finish: Refrigerate 8 to 10 hours or overnight. Grate the chocolate over the top. Enjoy!

Topic Records, and its huge catalogue of wonderful music, has long had a place in my heart. It was through that label that I first became acquainted with performers such as Martin Carthy, June Tabor, Dick Gaughan and Ewan McColl and it was through them that I learned about the rich history of folk music in the British Isles. In fact, in no small way, this independent record company -- the oldest independent record label in the world -- was hugely important in supporting and spreading the second folk revival of the post -WWII Britain. While the first revival, in the late 19th and early 20th century, focused on and was inspired by rural folksong, the second revival, from 1945 until the late ‘60s, found a large part of its voice in the industrial, working-class areas of the country — miners, shipbuilders, factory workers had replaced the shepherds and milkmaids. And, while Topic was busy recording ground-breaking albums by the likes of Nic Jones and Martin Carthy, it was also recording older and more traditional material in the field. 

Which brings me to Voice of the People, a compilation of songs and instrumental music of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. The first and largest series is a 20 CD set. While the mainstay of commercial success for the company lay in the sales by their ‘name’ artists, the performers on this compilation were mostly unknown outside of their own small communities. Many went on to be known broadly in the folk community but, with very few exceptions, tended not to be professional performers. 

The series, which is organized thematically — Songs of Courtship and Marriage; Songs of Tempest and Sea Battles, Sailor Lads and Fishermen; Tragic Ballads; Songs of Emigration and Exile, etc.,  — and has close to 500 tracks. The majority of the material is vocal and unaccompanied but there are a couple of CDs devoted to dance music. 

In recent years I've not been listening to so much music at home. It seems to already be everywhere one goes, from the gas station to the supermarket, from the restaurant to the airport lounge. So, at home I crave silence more than sound. But when I do listen, I find myself listening to older folk music and finding in it much of what I don't find in a lot of more modern or slickly performed folk music. This is not to be disparaging about new folk music. Some ensembles, such as Deep End of the Ford or The Imagined Village, are making soulful and rich work but both of those ensembles feature artists with a deep knowledge and understanding of the tradition.

For me a song that works is like a hand-written letter from an old friend. Even if the spelling or grammar are a bit dodgy and the writing difficult to read in places, I cherish it far higher than the beautiful prose of someone I don't know. And so it is with these songs and tunes. To listen quietly and with care is to be transported to a vibrantly alive and real place. And while, at first listening, these songs may have an amateurish feel to them, it soon becomes apparent just what wonderful performances they are and how strong the material is. 

Among these tracks you'll find a couple of songs that Colcannon has performed, though from different sources -- The Bold Trooper, The Little Drummer -- and many that you may have heard of -- John Barleycorn, Matt Highland, Molly Bawn. And singers like Walter Pardon, Lizzie Higgins, Paddy Tunny and bands such as the lesser-known Britannia Coconut Dancers. 

This is a goldmine of wonderful songs and an inspirational reminder of what's important about folk music. If you're not sure that you want to commit to the whole series, there's a compilation with a track from each of the twenty CDs, called The Voice of the People: A Selection from the Series of Anthologies. And, if your appetite is whet, and you can’t indulge yourself with the 20 CD set, be reassured that there are two other series, both on the shorter side, but both equally wonderful. 

Here's a youtube of Walter Pardon singing Jack Hall.