Dick, I can happily forgive Jim not having heard my singing if he continues to regale us with first-hand accounts of the singers he's worked with - it's all very interesting. For what it's worth, I usually "see the movie" while singing a ballad, and one of the things I always try to get over to people in song workshops is that they should have a personal reason for singing each song in their repertoire, and not just go ahead and learn something because one of their heroes sang it and they vaguely liked it (and, yes, I admit to having done just that kind of thing myself). And when I say "a personal reason", I mean some kind of emotional involvement in the song, as well as an affection for a pleasing melody or a colourful turn of phrase.

Tom has made some interesting points here, not least the one about the scale of the performance environment. Singing to "700 people who you can't actually see through the lights" is a very different experience from singing to a small group in your back room, which (I presume) is why the folk club evolved as a means of providing an intimate kind of venue.

But going back to the traditional singers themselves, the point is that there is not a single "traditional style" - how could there be, when the singers' relationships with the songs and their performance were as different as those of Walter Pardon and Sam Larner? I think it's true that - as Jim suggested - those singers are or were completely committed to and immersed in the songs, rather than thinking too much about burnishing their own performance. But what then to say about Joseph Taylor, stylist supreme?

Lastly, since Jim mentioned Sarah Cleveland, I'm sure he'll be happy to learn that her grand-daughter Colleen is a singer very devoted to keeping the family repertoire alive.