This coming Saturday, those of us north of Hadrian’s wall and across the world with a proclivity for Scottish tradition are celebrating Burns Night – an eccentric tradition involving the reciting of poetry, drinking of whisky, and eating of minced Sheep’s organs (though in all honesty, I’m not entirely convinced that the Haggis isn’t a real asymmetric furry animal that circularly roams the Scottish Highlands in a bid to escape its kilted captors). The former of these practices, poetry, is at the heart of the festivities and is centred on the work of one particular poet: the Scottish bard, Robert Burns. Being from Cumbria, I’d like to say Robert Anderson, whose poetic use of regional dialect earned him the titled of the Cumberland bard, was of greater significance. However, I’m afraid we’ll have to give the Scots this one; Rabbie Burns pipped him to it and his extensive work, both humorous and hard-hitting, has had a much wider impact on international perceptions of Sir Walter Scott’s Scotland (tartan-clad and haggis hunting).
As this celebration fast approaches, I thought it was poignant to share with you my favourite musical incarnation of some of the most loved, and most often forgotten, songs by Burns. That is Eddi Reader’s album titled, The Songs of Robert Burns. Released in 2003, this work features most of the tracks that I listened to growing up. Resultantly, songs like Jamie Come Try Me and Ye Banks And Braes O’Bonnie Doon serve as a constant reminder of home, despite me not hailing from the south west of Scotland, where the author spent a great deal of his life. It comes as a strange comfort in knowing now that Reader had recorded this album upon returning from London to her home in Glasgow. I’m firmly convinced that you can hear the warmth and relief of her homecoming throughout this album, particularly in her vocal ornamentation of falling passages in Of A’ the Airts.
The band for this album is outstanding and their blend of “traditional” and contemporary instrumentation brilliantly serves to avoid the twee and tacky connotations that could so easily have been ascribed to this work. A passage on the artist’s website, unapologetic in its positive expression of Reader’s musical prowess, describes how ‘her taste in co-writers, writers, songs and players is impeccable’. Despite its clearly promotional contexts, this description profoundly illustrates the cause of the album’s brilliance. It perfectly walks the tight rope of musical excellence and humility. In doing so, it pushes the words and their meaning to the forefront of the music, like no other album that I know.
In spite of its name, this album should come with a disclosure; one of the tracks is not one of Burns’. I’ll let you discover that for yourself. If you’re listening to the deluxe release (as you should be), it’s track no. 7. According to a BBC review by Chris Jones from the same year as the release, ‘it’s included to demonstrate how the poet’s muse lives on in Scotland to this day’.
So if you’re celebrating Burns’ Night this weekend, be sure to stick on this album. We will be. And when you do, have an open mind about the recording of Auld Lang Syne; I think it may be a better tune and arrangement than the familiar Hogmanay anthem.
Waxing Lyrical 