Pardon me for waxing personal again, but back in the days shortly after the Big Bang, I was very much an opera enthusiast, to the point where I was taking voice lessons from an older woman who used to sing with the Metropolitan Opera. It seems I was a bass-baritone (same category of voice as George London—and Ed McCurdy and Gordon Bok).

When a number of friends became interested in folk music, I listened to a number of records, and the voice that appealed to me the most was (fasten your seat-belt!) Richard Dyer-Bennet. Classically trained light tenor, accompanying himself on a classical guitar.

I was fascinated by the songs he sang, and although Dyer-Bennet didn't really have a great voice (he said so himself), I wasn't put off by some of the less cultivated voices that I first heard early on. I have since learned to appreciate these voices, learning, however, that it is the song that is the important element.

I have to wholeheartedly agree with a statement by Dyer-Bennet:

The value lies inherent in the song, not in the regional mannerisms or colloquialisms. No song is ever harmed by being articulated clearly, on pitch, with sufficient control of phrase and dynamics to make the most of the poetry and melody, and with an instrumental accompaniment designed to enrich the whole effect.

Some people are simply put off by untrained voices or by voices laden with what some singers of folk songs seem to consider is the way folk songs must be sung. Evenings like this could introduce quite a number of people to the songs, and lessen the danger of putting then off with assumed regional mannerisms. Which is often the case.

Don Firth