Saturday 18 October 2003

First things first - Spring Any Day Now is now available in our CD shop. So go and buy one. Or several. Stocks are a bit low just now, but we're expecting a load more in early November, so if yours doesn't arrive in the mail right away, don't panic.

I'm back from a few days' holiday in the Borders. We came back a day early so that I could go to Rob Mackillop's farewell concert at the National Portrait Gallery, which has left me with something of a heavy heart. The final sentence of the news story given here by the BBC only tells a part of it, as the Historical Musician in Residence post was Rob's idea, developed by him in conjunction with several organisations. The SAC agreed to fund it (great) and then gave the job to someone else.  I'll leave the intricacies of the tale out myself, as I don't want my arse sued off, but what's unquestionable is that over the last decade Rob's done a huge amount to get people to broaden their assessment of what Scottish music is. 

The prevailing view here in Scotland is that classical music is something brought in to be written and performed by outsiders, and this view has been reinforced by the fact that most performers of classical music in Scotland moved here after the 1950s, and the establishment then of national orchestras and the opera company.  But the truth is that the music and the people travel in both directions, in and out of the country, and that they always have done.  And as anyone familiar with our work knows, the worlds of classical and traditional music have never been very far apart.

The major publicly-funded musical organisations here show little or no interest in music by Scottish composers of the past, or in how that music relates to what was going on elsewhere in the world.  The bulk of recent recordings of music by dead Scottish composers has come from Hyperion Records with the BBC's Scottish Symphony Orchestra, which is funded through the BBC rather than direct taxation.

Why am I so exercised about this? Well, with three weeks to go before the first sessions, I'm still waiting to hear whether the record company has approved the budget for our Kellie record. Thomas Erskine, the 6th Earl of Kellie, was the first British composer to study the Mannheim classical style, and he was rather good at it.  His being an aristocrat rather than a career musician meant that he was less than careful about preserving his work for posterity, and as a result you can't walk into a record shop and buy a CD devoted to his work. This is something I would like to change: he is after all a major (dead) Scottish composer.  We have some funding promised from the Foundation for Sport and the Arts, but all other applications have fallen on deaf ears, so for the remainder of the project's budget, I'm reliant on a benevolent record company, who must be aware that such a record will not sell in large quantities, on colleagues who will work very hard and go the extra mile for a worthwhile project, and on months of my own time and energy given for free, sacrificed by myself and more tellingly by my family. 

Despite being completely convinced of the intrinsic value of the project, that it will broaden the public awareness of Scottish culture, and that it will also result in a record that's fun to listen to, I've recently stopped caring whether it happens or not, as I'm aware that the personal cost to myself and those around me in completing it does not necessarily balance the personal satisfaction of its completion.

Our other current or pending releases have similar stories to tell: The Red Red Rose (complete with its premiere recording of the original version of Burns's song) was made possible by another benevolent record company stretching itself to make it happen, and with the musicians all on half fees. It's a great record if I say so myself, and I hope it sees the light of commercial day soon. Spring Any Day Now, as its sleeve notes attest, was funded by a succession of zero-interest credit cards in my name, with all the musicians appearing for nothing, and me doing the editing on borrowed equipment under cover of darkness. And of the records we've released so far, it's the one I'm most proud of, and would choose to listen to.  

Now, our forthcoming tour in March (for which the dates are beginning to come together, honest) is publicly funded, but this is because we've promised to do the gigs with a sound rig, designer, lighting, stage director, and a decent marketing budget, all of which are brilliant and I'm not complaining about them one bit!  But am I the only person who thinks that it's weird that you can get money for the window dressing, but not for the actual work ? Even when that work involves uncovering and bringing to public notice an important part of your country's cultural history ?  Am I missing something here ? Let me know.

But now I'm going to prepare the papers for Tuesday's board meeting ... another late shift awaits.