PRS Member
Sorry to have mistaken your meaning of 'The Great Unwashed' – no offence meant or taken I hope – this thread has been refreshingly free of offence so far – it must be the trolls' annual holiday – wonder if they go back to Norway each year!
Bob Coltman.
You are right of course.
I think perhaps I put my point badly. While I believe that the backbone of the British tradition is the narrative song which starts at point A and works through to a conclusion, as you point out, there are those that don't follow this pattern; those for displaying vocal dexterity (Tail Toddle), dance songs, shanties, ritual songs, nonsense songs and many other types. What I was trying to say was that our tradition is word rather than musically based (unlike the US). Even those songs lacking a continuous narrative are based on communicating images, ideas, aspirations, – all the things that make us human. The images used were based on the realities of the times the songs were made and are, I believe, universal and generally identifiable enough to be relevant for today. At the very least, they are a part of our history and as such, worth consideration. Some time ago I researched some traditional songs (including Lillibulero) for a talk I gave on song and history and was fascinated to find how some of them had been made as weapons and inspirations in order to achieve social and political objectives.
I don't see the function that the songs once served being echoed in any of those you put forward as future candidates, certainly not in pop songs, though I confess my knowledge of pop music died with Buddy Holly, J P Richardson and Richie Vallens! I do believe that the traditional form of creation gives us a template for creating new songs (MacColl and a few others have proved that to my satisfaction), but whether this continues to be the case remains to be seen. If nothing else, there is still a great deal of pleasure for me in listening to the old songs well sung. I can still remember the hairs on the back of my neck bristling when I first heard blind Travelling woman Mary Delaney singing 'Buried in Kilkenny' (her version of Lord Randall) while sitting outside her caravan, with trains passing the site she was stopped at every five minutes. I can't recall getting that degree of pleasure from any other form of singing. She prefaced her song by telling us we wouldn't like it because it was "too old".
The tradition was summed up perfectly for me by MacColl at the end of his 'Song Carriers' programmes (anybody who hasn't got a set and wants to hear traditional singing at its best should try to get them while they are currently doing the rounds.
MaColl said of the tradition:

"Well, there they are; the songs of our people. Some of them have been centuries in the making; some were undoubtedly born on the broadside presses. Some have the marvellous perfection of stones shaped by the sea's movement; others are as brash as a cup-final crowd.
They were made by professional bards and by unknown poets of the plough-stilts and the hand-loom.
They are tender, harsh, passionate, ironical, simple, profound; as varied indeed as the landscape of this island.
We are all indebted to the Harry Coxs and Phil Tanners, to Colm Keane and Maggie McDonagh, to Belle Stewart and Jessie Murray and all the sweet and raucous unknown singers who have helped to carry our peoples' songs across the centuries".

When we first started visiting Ireland regularly thirty odd years ago the future of the music there was somewhat uncertain; in the main the musicians were elderly and the youngsters who had been forced to enter the Comhaltas competitions by doting parents were going over the wall at the earliest opportunity. Nowadays things have changed radically. This year's St Patrick's Day parade (in this small West of Ireland town) included at least fifty young people, many of them of school age (some at junior school level), and many of them playing brilliantly, which convinces me that people will still be listening to traditional Irish music for at least the next two generations.
I wish I could say the same about the songs, which appear to be disappearing at a rate of knots. I believe that one of the main factors for this situation has been the poor standard of singing at many of the clubs (certainly many of the ones I have visited). They never seem to have shaken off the amateurish 'near enough for folk song' image that has pervaded the revival from the beginning. I believe it lies within the ability of all of us to sing well – if we work at it. Too often traditional song appears to be regarded by its participants as the only art form that needs no preparation, skill, thought or effort. I packed in singing because I wasn't prepared to do the work and I felt it insulting to sing in public without having done so. We seem to have never escaped the 'natural as birdsong' ethos that was projected by many of the early collectors. Until we do I believe traditional singing is doomed to end up on the archivists shelf.
Well, I'm off to the Knockcroughery (Hill of The Hanged Man I'm told by an Irish speaker – now there's a piece of tradition for you.) singing week-end.
Jim Carroll.