As comebacks go, this one takes some beating. In the late
1960s and early ‘70s,
Shelagh McDonald was one of the most respected
singer-songwriters on the folk scene. After migrating south from her native
Scotland and making a couple of impressive albums, she’d been hailed by
Melody Maker as ‘the new Sandy Denny’. Then,
in 1972, she simply vanished. For over thirty years, rumours of her whereabouts
circulated. Finally, in 2005, with her back catalogue now attracting attention from
a new generation, she resurfaced, to tell of a catastrophic experience with LSD
that had caused her to quit the music business. Her voice shot, she’d spent the
intervening decades travelling, often living under canvas. Happily, that
velvety voice has now returned and Shelagh, confidence restored, is performing
again.
This interview was conducted in July 2013. We spoke shortly after she’d
played a rare London gig, supporting Mike Heron and Trembling Bells.
You've said that
female folk singers were unusual on the club scene in the ‘60s. Did you find it
a welcoming environment?
From the moment I decided to take music
seriously, I strove to be accepted as a musician, pure and simple, and the guys
in the business have consistently paid me the compliment of treating me as one of
them. They’ve been great... never patronized, nor let me off the hook if I’d
done a rotten gig.
I love your guitar style. Must require a
lot of practice. Who were your masters in finger style?
My guitar heroes?! How long have you
got! The very first influence was Bert Jansch, whose albums I wore down to
within an inch of their lives to learn exactly what he was doing with his
fingers. Would like to say I did the same with Davey Graham, but his Arabic cross-rhythms
were totally beyond me. (I have played his guitar, though! Broke a string one
night in Cousins and, while fixing it, became aware of a pair of hands
clutching a guitar as he gently lowered it down on my shoulders... felt as if I’d
just been given the Order of the Garter!). My friend Keith Christmas also
helped steer me away from the strict folky fingerstyle I used for traditional
stuff and, like many in the folk scene, Joni Mitchell solved the problem of
bringing colour to one’s guitar sound without breaking your finger-joints...
thus began my addiction to open tunings.
You started (am I right?) by singing trad
material and other people's songs. When and how did you start writing your own
songs?
As with guitar playing, so with
songwriting... Joni’s first album was the one that broke the mould for me.
Sure, there were loads of good songs being written, but for me they lacked the introspection
I was after. I’m a great one for the ‘stream of consciousness’ school of
songwriting, because complete honesty is a prerequisite for any art form and
songwriting is no different. The only problem with this is, of course, that
you can only be as honest as your self-development will allow and I now look
back on my early songs as being rather like reading Adrian Mole... or should
that be Ariadne Mole?!
Several of your songs from the ‘60s are
about named individuals - Rod, Liz… That's rather different from, for instance,
Sandy Denny, who wrote about her friends but concealed their identities in
opaque lyrics. Any thoughts on the relative merits in lyric-writing of telling
it straight vs wrapping up one's meaning?
I’ve always had very laid-back
friends... always told them I was writing about them and felt that if I’d
disguised their names they would have been a bit miffed.
At the two gigs I've been to you haven’t
revived your old self-written songs. How do you feel about those songs now?
My personal favourites are those I
played piano on, and of the others, I would say that ‘Odyssey’ and ‘Peacock
Lady’ have stood the test of time.
When and how did your voice ‘come back’?
Was it before the events of 2005 when the press rediscovered you?
Having read in the Scottish Daily Mail
in 2005 that my albums had been re-issued I thought I’d better see if my voice (which
I’d completely given up on) could be cranked up to an acceptable level in case
anyone asked me to sing for my supper! Gordon [her late partner] and I were living in the middle
of a forest at the time and I would start with little ten minute sessions
singing anything that came into my head. At this point my throat was still
seized up and it could be a bit painful. Each day I’d sing for an extra ten
minutes and after about nine days my throat started to relax. From then it was
a simple matter of gradually increasing the volume till I was able to really
feel what was happening to my vocal cords and regard my voice as an instrument
to be played seriously rather than being picked up and strummed to pass away a
few idle moments.
Does the music business seem a totally
different place now? If so, what are the biggest changes you've noticed?
The music scene is unrecognizable but
the audiences are the same. I think that’s what keeps us all going. It’s the
old story... the digital signal has changed everything, particularly the legal
side of things, and I’m not alone in referring to this as a minefield. Back then,
a folk concert in a proper concert hall was regarded as a mega event. I got my
first professional gigs by using the ubiquitous door-stop sized ‘Folk Directory’
and writing to every folk club in the country and people would book you without
having heard of you. Anyone who was daft enough to travel from Scotland to
Devon for peanuts was good enough for them because we were all part of this mad
family! It goes without saying I wish there were more folk clubs and that they
met more than just once a month. However, I applaud the trend in combining
folk with story-telling, poetry, stand-up, etc.
How has your own songwriting changed?
I’m aiming for a more open-ended
approach. After a while the whole idea of sticking rigidly to one verse,
followed by a chorus to be repeated between successive verses is like putting
music into a straitjacket. Would like to think I’m playing around and experimenting
more, and hopefully taking more risks.
What's next? Can we expect a new album? I
hope so!
Next gigs on the horizon are the
Wickerman in Dumfries and Galloway, the Oran Mor in Glasgow,
then on to the Sidmouth Folk Festival. Am really looking forward to all of them
and to starting my first album for (don’t remind me how many) years next month.
Around autumn I’ll be working with an amazing songwriter, Nigel H Seymour, who I
would urge folks to listen out for.
(Cheeky question but…) how do you plan to
vote in the Scottish referendum?
Am torn here, firstly because I have a
much loved relative (alas, no longer with us) who was a prime mover and shaker
in bringing the SNP out of the backwoods and if I opted for the status quo he
might turn in his grave. On the other hand, he might be equally mortified if he
knew that our oil revenues continued to be controlled, not by Whitehall, but by
the major oil companies operating from London if we voted for home rule. I will
take my cue from my adored relative and vote consistently where my conscience
dictates.
[This
interview first appeared in part in R2
(Rock’n’Reel), September/October 2013. Thanks to editor Sean McGhee, to Heather Maxwell McLennan for permission to use her photograph, and of course to
Shelagh herself.]
