Quentin's Weeknotes 1/30/22-2/5/22

This Week:

• I was mostly home with my kid, who was quarantining.
• I mourned the passing of Anthony Barrand, who died on Saturday the 29th. Anthonhy Barrand receiving a lifetime acheivement award from the Country Dance and Song Society (2009)

Growing up, my dad had a record by a group called Nowell Sing We Clear which was a regular staple of our household during the holidays. When I got to Boston University I discovered that the sonorous and bold tenor voice on that album belonged to a professor of anthropology and folklore there named Tony Barrand. He taught classes in folk music (largely from the British and American traditions), Morris dancing and Mummer’s plays, and folklore. I took every class he offered, each day of which started with a song from his astonishing and immeasurable repertoire. Despite the sadness at his passing, what I mostly remembered this week were his ribald songs, humorous or full of sexual innuendo (or completely lacking it in some cases). He sang us songs like “I wish they’d do it now” or “9 times a night”, “the Coachman” or “The Foggy Dew” and did so with a seriousness that made them somehow funnier and more insightful. I also remember a class in his folklore course on dirty jokes that was maybe the filthiest educational experience I ever had. 

Anthony Barrand as “Mother” His sense of humor and joy at performance was always present in classes and in person. The final project for his “English Dance and Ritual Drama” course was the entire class doing various Morris Dances in Marsh Plaza. For anyone who knows the BU campus, this is both a very public space on Commonwealth Avenue, and also a major route of prospective campus visits. Barrand would motor around on his mobility scooter, dressed as the “Mother” character, and whenever a tour would stop to gawk at these students making sword locks and jumping with hankies, he would yell out “I’M THE PROFESSOR!!!!” to bewildered parents and high school students.

The other memory I had is that his Folk Song class was the first one I went to after the news about 9/11 started trickling its way across campus. When we got there, he had us sing Shaker and Shape note songs about about death and it’s eternal promise at the end of all our lives. At first, I was upset about having to sing about death in a moment of horror, but gradually, I realized that he was using group singing to give us a community of grief. It was a profound moment of teaching and learning, especially when, as he later told us, he knew of two people he had lost that day.

He later served on my undergraduate thesis committee, and was gracious and thoughtful as I worked my through an eclectic thesis on archaeology and music. After I graduated, I saw him perform a few times, most notably with Nowell Sing We Clear at the Latchis theatre in Brattleboro. I also corresponded with him a few times, and he always took time to respond, even as his health continued to deteriorate.

He broadened and expanded my understanding of folk music and folklore, and his ability to educate, inspire, and entertain seamlessly has been a guiding star in my own teaching. The memories of all of this are what I’ll keep, and I couldn’t pick just one song to remember him by. But the song below, called “The Dreadful Ghost” shows off his beautiful voice, his engaged performance, and his understated but insistent feminism–he championed women students, dancers, and singers, and many of his best songs told the story of women scorned and women triumphant.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dU5Pl4hQmE&w=560&h=315]

Rest in Peace, Tony, and thank you.