‘Climate change is going to cull us as a species’: folk hero Peggy Seeger on Bob Dylan, the ultimate love song and touring at 90

The musician and activist answers your questions about her marriage to Ewan MacColl, being the inspiration for The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, and her mother’s legacy

As told to Dave Simpson

Touring at 90 is amazing. What was a career highlight?
When I was 60 the thought of touring when I was 70 was anathema and the thought of touring at 90 seemed dreadful! The hardest part is sitting in the car. We’re gonna be away six weeks and I’m a walking hospital case. I have meds, a step stool so I can put on compression stockings, and arthritis in both hands. My family treat me like glass, but as soon as I get on stage all these things melt away. I can only tour because I have my crew – my sons Neill and Calum, my daughter-in-law Kerry Harvey-Piper and an excellent sound engineer, Stefan Care. Or rather, they’re not my crew, I’m their singer. I don’t think in terms of career highlights because I could yet muck it up.

What’s it like being the subject of one the greatest love songs ever written [The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face]? 
In my memoir First Time Ever I devote an entire chapter to it! I was estranged from Ewan MacColl, who had been pursuing me when I came to England. It was a very passionate encounter, but I fled back to America because a married man with a five-year-old son he adored wasn’t my ideal. It turned out that both he and his wife had been unfaithful during their marriage, which made it a bit better later on. They are both gone now, and so are their issues.

When Ewan sang it to me over the phone I thought it was a nice love song, but I didn’t connect it with him and me because he was infatuated with me, and while I got to love him, I wasn’t “in love”. I felt exposed when I sang “the first time ever I lay with you”, because I was singing it as if I was him. Our first night together was disastrous! The second was what the first should have been. Then after I fell “in love” with my second life partner, Irene Pyper-Scott, I started to sing it as Ewan must have felt it.

Ewan McCall & Peggy Seeger
‘Our first night together was disastrous!’ … Peggy Seeger with Ewan MacColl. Photograph: Brian Shuel/Redferns


It’s been covered by over a thousand singers and Ewan and I hated most of them. We had a section of our record collection devoted to them called “the chamber of horrors”. When it became a huge hit for Roberta Flack I didn’t like the way she sang it, but I’ve come to like it a lot. A digital composer called Broadcaster has done it as a dance track, using my vocals, which is on my Bandcamp. If you listen to it as a song, it’s the worst version ever, but as a dance track, it’s wonderful.

Did you watch [Bob Dylan biopic] A Complete Unknown? If yes, what did you think? If no, why not? [ThankYou,John/
I haven’t had time to see it yet but I want to after the tour. I met Bob Dylan when he was Robert Zimmerman, a student. I remember him very clearly because the event organiser said: “You know that little fellow who followed you around with his briefcase? He’s Bob Dylan.” At that point I said, “Who’s Bob Dylan?”, but more power to him. He’s like me in that he hasn’t got a “good” voice but he’s got a character voice and he created the character Bob Dylan out of Robert Zimmerman. It makes me wonder if I created myself, because I’m much more of an entertainer now than I was when I was just a singer of folk songs. I do little jokes and monologues and all kinds of things I never would’ve done as the Peggy Seeger of 1962.

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Folk revivals and the idea of continuity

British Folk Music

In The Wire 493, George Rayner-Law argues that as interest in English folk song grows once again, practitioners, critics and listeners should consider carefully the ideological currents beneath the surface

By George Rayner-Law

There is growing interest in contemporary English folk music. London based groups such as Shovel Dance Collective and Goblin Band are frequently discussed in music criticism as innovating the folk idiom through expanded instrumentation, production techniques and collectivist politics, while staying in continuity with the folk tradition. However, an unbroken English folk music continuity does not exist in any historicisable form; instead, ‘folk music’ should be considered a product of modernity, with any tradition that does ostensibly exist in England traceable to the 1950s.

Folk song collecting in England is generally considered as an act of preservation, conservation of at-risk popular culture against the onslaught of modernity. Since at least American folklorist Francis James Child’s time, collecting itself is better understood as a modern, empiricist project. The analysis of Marxist academic David Harker has demonstrated that folk song collectors in the 19th century routinely discarded industrial songs, pub songs and previously published work from their collections. In this way, they were essentially constructing folk song as a category out of a broader pool of popular song.

This process of re-ordering of the world reflected contemporary concerns around the loss of ‘traditional’ culture. As outlined by British historian Eric Hobsbawm, the collating, ordering and invention of folk traditions and corpuses out of raw custom was a key part of romantic nationalist projects in 19th century Europe – in his words, “responses to novel situations which take the form of reference to old situations, or establish their own past by quasi-obligatory repetition”. But romantic nationalism is fraught when it comes to England, as Englishness became entangled rapidly with Britishness following the 1707 Act of Union. Writer Alex Niven recently argued that due to this elision, Englishness is essentially an empty vessel lacking positive attributes, and that any emancipatory politics in this country would need to move beyond the idea of England in order to effect positive change.

The contemporary folk idiom in England is rooted in the work of figures such as Alan Lomax, Ewan MacColl, Peggy Seeger and Albert Lloyd in the early 50s. The work of this group in performance, documentation, debate, songwriting and dramaturgy cemented modern folk performance and instrumentation forms. That this group were guided by Marxist politics is unquestionable: MacColl and Lloyd were members of the Communist Party of Great Britain. When ‘reviving’ folk, one of their key motivations was to fight what they saw as the saturation of British popular culture by American corporate products. This, arguably, is another example of folksong and folk corpus as raw material used anew to reflect new concerns in a contemporary moment, rather than furthering a continuous tradition. Simultaneously, Lloyd’s work developing a catalogue of coal mining songs for the National Coal Board and, later, Workers Music Association widened the scope of what counted as threatened cultural heritage in an era of slow industrial decline.

Beyond the social form of folk music, some of the above were also involved in developing field recording as a concept. Field recording as a term and practice emerges from the work done for the Archive of American Folk Song in the 30s and 40s by collectors including John Lomax, Charles Seeger and Alan Lomax. ‘Field’ originally referred to the anthropological ‘field’, as they were employed to document the songs of rural America. Later, Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger developed the radio ballad format with Charles Parker, which mixed field recording, music and the human voice for radio documentary, with field recordings on tape played live in the studio. Field recording practices are another example of new intellectual technologies employed to understand and contextualise the periods in which they were developed, and have been part of this idiom since its early days.

It’s odd that many reviews of Shovel Dance Collective’s releases – notably The Water Is The Shovel Of The Shore – discuss the integration of field recording with folk song as a novel approach. A similarly dehistoricised appraisal of Goblin Band focuses on their engagement with early music and their integration of it with folk idiom, particularly in relation to Come Slack Your Horse. Early music as a category, codified by David Munrow in the mid-60s, is another modern classification developed to make sense of the raw material of the past. Munrow, of course, collaborated with the Collins sisters on 1969’s Anthems In Eden, which points to at least 55 years of cross-pollination between these two musical lenses.

Ideas of continuity are one of the most powerful ways to establish narrative frameworks for the world one lives in. Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman described the experience of living in contemporary modernity as liquid: undefined, uncertain and characterised by fleeting experiences and relationships. The desire for something solid to grasp hold of – that can allow one to exist outside of, or even counter to, modernity – is understandably appealing. The comforting idea of folksong as a strand of continuity attached to the premodern world, or more specifically premodern England, can offer a sense of rootedness in one’s surroundings and wider culture.

Narratives of unrecorded histories and culture from below are susceptible to overextension when it comes to the idea of folk song as popular history. This can lead to a framework where things are ‘as if’ or ‘almost’ the same; unbroken, if only one can mentally bridge the gap. When one fills those gaps, one does so through a contemporary perspective, reflecting contemporary concerns and needs, and sometimes without historiographical rigour. In a ‘liquid’ era, this reorganising of historiography and memory can fuel a more ideological desire to understand one’s self in continuity with those whose histories are lost or unrecorded, a line between the unmoored figures of the past and oneself as the unmoored figure – or even victim – of the present. There is nothing inherently wrong with these situating narratives, as long as they are acknowledged, and there is nothing wrong with the joy derived from partaking in this English folk idiom as a player or listener as long as it is historiographically situated.

This essay, the first in a new opinion column called Against The Grain, appears in The Wire 493

Source: Against The Grain: George Rayner-Law on folk revivals and the idea of continuity – The Wire

Cambridge folk festival review – Robert Plant thrills, Peggy Seeger inspires and Oysterband rock

The Led Zeppelin frontman’s latest band, Saving Grace, riffs on country, folk, rock and blues, but the weekend belongs to female American singer-songwriters

obert Plant is clearly enjoying himself. He may be a rock god, but he’s also a music fan with impressively eclectic taste. Twenty-four years ago he was on this same stage at the Cambridge folk festival with Priory of Brion, reviving 1960s favourites by Them and Love. He has worked with four bands and Alison Krauss since then; tonight he “presents” his new-ish five-piece, Saving Grace, who started in low-key fashion five years ago supporting Fairport Convention, but here give a masterclass in how to revive and rework country, folk, rock and blues.

Dressed in black, Plant trades vocals with Suzi Dian while adding occasional harmonica and bass guitar. First comes the brooding and bluesy Win My Train Fare Home, which he originally recorded at the Festival in the Desert with English guitarist Justin Adams. Next up is a charming rendition of traditional The Cuckoo, backed by banjo, and then a pounding revival of Led Zeppelin’s Friends, with Dian adding accordion. Later come tributes to Los Lobos and Bert Jansch, and a rousing a cappella finale of the traditional Incredible String Band favourite Bid You Goodnight. It’s a thrilling, compelling performance.

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