BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards 2017, album review

Dramatic Cruelty

Every once in a while I get the folk urge, and these BBC folk award albums generally deliver the satisfaction to that, if being variable – the occasional over-twee rendition prompting a wince. But there is also so much genuinely excellent, resurgent folk out there – and I don’t mean the noise of The Mumfords or similar – so I’m thinking, to name one brilliant proponent, Sam Lee, and many contemporary re-creators of traditional songs set to modern arrangements which delight. Better to read, for example, my reviews of Lee’s work to see what I mean more thoroughly.

But this album pretty much pleases throughout, virtually every performer [solo/group] new to me, and the singing is sweet and the instrumentals rousing to sweet [the latter exemplified in the track I am listening to now: Carrowmore by John McSherry].

I have Shirley Collins’ latest album Lonestar and have listened to it once, but I clearly didn’t listen carefully enough, or it is also – well, it is – it’s placement amongst this selection because her performance of Cruel Lincoln is sublime in its own right but also in the way it dominates, largely through the power of the lyrics. Her performance is simple and elegant in that drama of an absence from singing for 30+ years and her current 81 years of age and her status as such a folk legend. This simplicity is heightened by the birds chirping in the garden background where this was recorded – but then those lyrics make the other dramatic demand on our listening,

Said the Lord to the Lady I am now going out
Beware of Cruel Lincoln when I am gone out
What cares I for Lincoln or any of his kin
For my doors are all bolted an my windows are pinned
As soon as the Lord had got out of sight
Cruel Lincoln crept in in the middle of the night
Got and pricked the sweet Baby which caused it to cry
Whilst the Nurse sat a singing o hush a lullaby
Cruel Lincoln rocked the cradle and the False Nurse she sung
And all round the cradle the Babies blood ran
O Nurse, O Nurse how sound you do sleep
Whilst my little Baby almost bitterly does weep
O Nurse, O Nurse, O still him with the keys
He will not still my Lady, let me do what 'ere I please
O Nurse, O Nurse, O still him with the ring
He will not still my Lady, let me do most anything
Cruel Lincoln rocked the cradle and the False Nurse she sung
While out of the cradle the Babies blood sprung
O Lady, dear Lady come and take him in your lap
For I cannot quiet him with milk nor with pap
How can I come down so late in the night
Without coal or candle for to grant me any light
There's two smocks in your coffer as white as any swan
Put one of these about you, it will show a light down
The Lady came down, not thinking any harm
Cruel Lincoln stood a waiting for to catch her in his arms
O Lincoln, Cruel Lincoln spare my life for one hour
You shall have my daughter Betsy, she's my own blooming flower
Go and fetch your daughter Betsy, she will do very well
To hold up the silver basin for to catch your hearts blood
There was blood in the kitchen, there was blood in the hall
There was blood in the parlour where the Lady did fall
As soon as the Lord had heard what was done
Tears from his eyes in torrents they ran
Saying the Nurse shall be hung on the scaffold so high
Cruel Lincoln shall be burned in the furnace close by
Cruel Lincoln shall be burned in the furnace close by