Silly Sisters begins in the weaving mills of the Industrial Revolution, where we learn that the workers liked to stick it to the boss as much as we do today. “Doffin’ Mistress” is sung by a group of workers called “doffers,” who had the unimaginably dull job of changing the bobbins on the weaving machines in the spinning sheds. When you have a shit job, you have three choices: bitch about it, have fun with it or both. These young ladies, as expressed through the tight harmonies of Maddy Prior and June Tabor, choose both, supporting the female supervisor in a united front against the screaming bully of a boss. The arrangement is terribly inviting, particularly in the opening measures where Martin Carthy is joined by Andy Irvine on mandolin, Nic Jones on fiddle, Tony Hall on melodeon and Danny Thompson on bass before June and Maddy enter in tandem. The melodic magic of British folk is on full display here with a joyful, exuberant melody that makes you want to join in with throats opened to full throttle. The verse where the girls align in teasing defiance of male power is sung with a hands-on-hips, energetic display of psychological independence:
And when the boss he looks round the door, “Tie your ends up, doffers,” he will roar. Tie our ends up we surely do, For Elsie Thompson but not for you!
We leave this relatively happy scene for a dark tale of revenge involving Scottish clans. “Burning of Auchindoon” is based on a feud between the Clan Mackintosh and the Earl of Huntly, a thoroughly disreputable character who left a thick trail of blood in his wake and traitorously plotted with the Spanish to launch an invasion against his homeland. The Clan is out to avenge the death of one of their allies at the hand of Huntly by burning Auchindoun Castle (the “ou” is the proper spelling). This chilling tale receives an equally chilling treatment from Maddy and June, who heighten the tension with dissonant harmonies sung a capella. The ending interval, where June stays on the root of the C-minor and Maddy flattens the already flattened third of the key creates a powerful sense of foreboding: though the castle is in flames, the act is certain to trigger a response, and the bloody cycle will continue. Singers in search of new harmonic possibilities are encouraged to study these patterns in detail, for “Burning of Auchindoon” is a stellar example of how to move beyond the obvious to build tension and capture mood.
Each woman has a solo on Silly Sisters, and Maddy’s is “Lass of Loch Royal.” This is a song that has morphed over the years as it traveled through different countries from Ireland to Scotland to the United States, with various artists emphasizing different features of the plot to modify the message. It is believed that the original is a tale of betrayal of a young pregnant woman by the lover’s mother, and that aspect is certainly present in Maddy’s version. Through careful verse selection and an extraordinarily vivid performance, she transforms the main theme into one of abandonment, possibly after rape, possibly after a night of passion, or something in between. The lass travels day and night with her newborn baby to arrive at the castle of her lover, only to be turned away by the lover’s mother, who dismisses her with cold cruelty:
The rain beats at my yellow locks, the dew wets me still, The babe is cold in my arms, love, Lord Gregory let me in. Lord Gregory is not here and he henceforth can’t be seen, For he’s gone to bonny Scotland to bring home his new queen. Leave now these windows and likewise this hall, For it’s deep in the sea you will find your downfall.
The lass has no choice but to leave and accept her fate. When Maddy arrives at the last verse, you can picture her, drenched and cold on the heath, releasing all the bitterness of betrayal in a heart-rendering climax.
“The Seven Joys of Mary” features the pair in harmony again singing a folksy version of the Christ story. For some reason, the plain folk seem to capture the positive aspects of the faith more effectively than priests or preachers. The repetition of the affectionate phrase “good man” is a reminder that Christ retains more power when he is not embellished with godlike trappings but as a representative of the best aspects of humankind. The harmonies here are especially sweet during the crucifixion verse, as June and Maddy lower their voices in respect and mourning.
The anonymous multitudes who composed British folk songs always found their way into the sack sooner or later, but in this tale, sad disappointment lurks under the counterpane. “My Husband’s Got No Courage” is a dramatic monologue sung by a young wife who finds she’s married a man who can’t get it up. Since women were not allowed to divorce in the 19th century, and the possibility of release through lesbianism, masturbation or a quick trip to the vibrator shop were not realistic options, her agony is understandable. Maddy and June sing the moaning, hand-wringing chorus together without harmony and then take turns singing the verses solo. This poor horny broad has tried everything: vittles, meats, oyster, rhubarb, clapping a hand between his thighs, throwing her leg over his and nothing she does gets a rise out of this hopeless prick. Bitter that he continues to present himself to the world as handsome and desirable, she finally explodes in the last verse, giving as clear an expression of sexual frustration you will ever hear. The frustration is made more emphatic because June and Maddy break the pattern and join together for this verse, singing it with more passion than precision:
I wish my husband he was dead And in his grave I’d quickly lay him And then I’d try another one That’s got a little courage in him
From: https://www.50thirdand3rd.com/classic-music-review-silly-sisters-by-maddy-prior-and-june-tabor/
