To begin with, let's get the explanation for the group name out of the way. It has been a great blessing to us. That name has a power of its own and we have been proud to wear it. It engenders questions, interest, and concomitant edification. Why it has not been used before as the name of a group, we have no idea. Perhaps, it was meant for us - and, our experience has fortified that conviction. We have carried it since 1985. 

Jean and I happened to stumble upon Pictou on a honeymoon ramble in 1985. Jean, a native Scot, immediately made herself at home upon seeing the architecture, although the Gaelic street signs were foreign to her Lowland upbringing. Then we met the inhabitants and we both felt at home. After that, we learned that the first victims of the Highland Clearances had emigrated to this place. We looked at the throngs of gravestones that told the story, not only of forced emigration, but also of the westward creep of consumption. It dawned on me that half of my heritage had found its way to the New World through this holy place. Suddenly, Jean and I had a name for ourselves - a band would come later.

We were living in Maine then, where I had grown up and where I was serving in the Navy. I was playing in a great country group, Silverado, but Jean and I were cultivating a penchant for playing traditional Scottish and English music. She owned a couple of albums by a Scottish group, Heritage, who were refreshingly unlike the mainstream 'Celtic' fare at the time (was it called that then?). We learned the material. We wore the albums out. In 1988, we went to Britain for a holiday and one of our goals was to replace the Heritage albums. Luckily, Jean's father lived in the Kingdom of Fife, Scotland, a hop, skip, and a jump (and a couple of nasty 'roondaboots') from the singer in the group, Jack Beck. We invaded his house, spilled beer on his rug. and somehow wound up inviting him to come perform in the States. And we got the albums we wanted!

Jack happened to be in one of the first seminal groups that actually wedded a certain percentage of vocal music to an instrumental band. This sounds silly now, but it was the exception then. Jack came over to the States and Pictou's first outing was as a surrogate Heritage. Needless to say, in ways the ensemble wound up being wonderfully and totally bizarre. Despite the clashes in musical idiom, it was a signal apprenticeship (and fun for Jack, too). We had the privilege to work with somebody who was on his path to developing the craft of song - and we were astute enough to recognize it. 

Soon after, we moved to Tennessee. We formed the first incarnation of Pictou in a living room in Knoxville and wound up with an instrumental-heavy band comprised mostly of wonderful musicians who were University of Tennessee students. The fare was heavily Irish and dominated by the aura of the Bothy Band (a necessary step on the 'path'). Volatile but fun, this was another learning experience. Jeff Terry (whose arrangements are to be heard on this album) and Jean played twin violins; Emily Patrick played a myriad of instruments, and Jeff Lawson powered us with bodhrán and booked us into places where Guinness was served. We recorded an album, 'For to Find Mad Tom,' and invaded the airwaves. We performed at schools, for the Governour's Council For the Arts in Memphis, and at the Down Home in Johnson City. Celtic music had arrived in East Tennessee - in provocative fashion. 

The U.T. students moved, got jobs, had life-issues, etc. Suddenly, Jean and I were a duo again, but we had solidified our 'provocative' qualities. I was producing Keltic Korner for WETS FM (Public Radio, 89.5MHz) in Johnson City, and had brought my old pal Jack Beck on board as co-producer. Jack became a regular on Scottish Independent Radio in Scotland on a programme called Scene Around on Heartland FM (97.5 MHz, Pitlochry, Perthshire) and Jack asked me to contribute - we won a production award.

Keltic Korner was a broad-based 'module,' if you will, dedicated to exposing the American audience to the multifarious voices and instruments of the genre of Celtic music. It was based on BBC production style and I could only produce it this way in volunteer status. American Public Radio was segueing for its survival to a 'populist' approach and Independent Radio in Britain was headed toward the same goal - out of the exhilaration of freedom. My only goal was the 'educational module,' and when I had said what I wanted (and had) to say, I shut up. Sponsorship would have robbed me of liberty and my Maine 'psyche' precluded that possibility. Not having constant, direct access to the 'source,' I would have become a mere 'disc-jockey.' Jack lives in the tradition and has kept the programme up as I envisioned it. I opted to concentrate on what I could do - play!  Jean and I began the long march back to what we loved in the first place - songs with a message.

We began to play out again more and more. We attended a New Age festival at one point to ballyhoo the jewelry business of a friend. A girl with a head full of red hair walked up to us lugging a bodhrán. Ginger Webb had found us, immediately decided she belonged with us (a mutual gestalt), played with us that day, and found herself booked with us for an upcoming Ruritan gig - and the proverbial 'long haul.' A short time after, we acquired Jack Holland - the best pennywhistle player on earth. 

         Then came a time when we played at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. While there, we got featured with Seven Nations on the 'Travelers' broadcast on the Discovery Channel - specifically, Jean and Jack performing the last two segments of Track 6 (and a good shot of Ginger and me, if you want to see a pan of our arses). We had been instructed on that occasion to play nothing but our dance music to 'whip up the crowd.' We were insubordinate and performed the 'Culloden's Harvest' set as we had planned. The Discovery Channel people clued on to the fact that this set 'fit' the spirit of the games and asked us to perform it for them once more in the groves after the filming was over. The upshot was that we were seen several times worldwide on television, but due to our insubordination, we were never invited to play at Grandfather Mountain again. This was the occasion that inspired the title of this album (see the section entitled 'Prelude'). 

Something was gnawing at us though. It was gnawing us through the tuition of Jack Beck, who had shown us that a piece of music should have a message for society. It should either make people dance (a sort of worship) or think. We were all getting spiritual in our thinking - especially Ginger. We began to perform at 'life events.' We played at funerals, weddings, and Civil War re-enactments - as well as Celtic festivals. Then there was the time that we played again at that same New Age festival - only this time, for dancers. As they whirled around us, we realized what life and music are for. Music cannot be separated from its cultural context. It does not spontaneously generate from a vacuum. It is not 'art-in-itself.' It is a supplement for-and a complement of-life. It records our deeds and preserves them in verse and rhythm for later learning and enjoyment. It is a vehicle of worship. It is an underrated component of historiography.

This album captures the nexus at which we were realizing these things and it is 'song-heavy' for that reason. It does not contain a lot of the fast-paced high-energy music we habitually played live (wait for another production). From centuries past, the music speaks of war, human and sexual exploitation, dreams that were shattered, and painful separations. It is a reminder that despite technical 'cleverness' we have remained what we are - human and mortal. The songs and the tunes write that truth in bloody ink on our whitewashed walls of complacency. They reprobate that complacency. When Jean and I were in Jack Beck's living room in 1988, we saw a painting that has haunted us ever since. It was of a Native American wearing a great kilt from the Highlands of Scotland. Very poignant, that painting. That painting reprobates vindictiveness and promotes cross-cultural thinking, healing, and remembering.

Oh, there are a few dance tunes on this album that will make our 'live-followers' (bless you!) feel at home. Just dance to them! We hope the songs and the moody instrumentals lead you to a state of higher spirituality and human awareness. I end this historia with a contribution from a fan who has never heard us: Cathy Thornton Brown from Maine. She slipped us a poem while we were getting up enough guts to put out this album. It says it all:

This life is not conclusion
A sequel stands beyond
Invisible as music
But positive as sound.

(Emily Dickinson)

Wayne Reuel Bean

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