Hello everyone, I'm Brian McNeill. We are gathered today to celebrate a special life, one of service and achievement. The life of Ian David Green.
I'd like to welcome you all, especially Ian's family.
In 2006, when I was Head of Scottish Music at the RSAMD, I had the honour of sponsoring Ian Green for an honorary degree. What I said about him then is no less true today.
Ian's story is remarkable on many levels. First, it's about the realisation of a series of personal dreams. Next, it's about patience, grit and determination, and finally, it's about loyalty - and above all, trust.
Ian was born in 1934, in Forres. His father was a head gardener, and also a piper, and the family home was something of a musical centre, a place where friends and players would drop by informally, and where the practise chanter and the moothie often came together to make companionable music.
Like his father, Ian trained as a gardener, but when National Service came, he went further than his due, signing up for a three-year stint which took him to Korea and Japan, and after that, he decided gardening wasn't for him. In 1955, newly married to June, who was to be his constant and unwavering support in all his ventures, Ian decided on a career in the police.
And while it was the Lothian and Borders police which paid the bills, it was an early sixties TV programme, one of the Hootenany series, which was to provide his next direction. He always remembered the artists; Ray and Archie Fisher, The Corrie Folk Trio and Paddie Bell, and Dolina MacLennan. Immediately, he began buying LPs and seeking out live performances. Like so many of the rest of us, once that catalyst moment came, there was no holding back. He was hooked and he knew it; Ian Green had become a folkie.
But unlike many of our weird and unpredictable tribe, he wasn't content just to be a consumer of this great music. He wanted to give as well as take, to make a contribution - and being the most practical of men, it took him no time at all to work out how to do it. He started a folk club.
For a music so rooted in counterculture, the Police Club in York Place, Edinburgh, might seem an odd choice to be one of the seminal Scottish folk venues, but on a Sunday night in the early seventies, there wasn't a better place to be. I got a huge part of my musical education there. Celtic music, blues, comedy, singer-songwriters, the lot. It was a place where, if you were in the audience, you felt like family, and if you were lucky enough to be onstage, you were given a sharp, critical listening by one of the most knowledgeable and generous audiences in the business.
Under Ian's guidance it ran like clockwork. Always a firm hand, always a light touch... I know the Battlefield Band weren't the only ones to benefit from a generous interpretation of the fee; if a good night had been had and the club looked healthy, you would leave with a few extra quid in your pocket. Ian knew the worth of his performers.
Now, the sheer hell of running a successful folk club - a particular kind of dogged, swimming-through-treacle kind of slog - should have been enough for even the most dedicated enthusiast, but Ian didn't stop there. The almost total lack of interest in traditional music by the Scottish media frustrated him, so with John Barrow and Ken Thompson he founded Sandy Bell's Broadsheet. As with everything he turned his deft hand to, it prospered; what began as a simple information sheet - who's on where if you're a punter, who's available on tour if you're a promoter - quickly became the folk scene's required reading, and to be reviewed in it became a much sought-after honour. Then came the Edinburgh Folk Club, then Discount Folk Records, a specialist folk and traditional retailer. In short, over a twenty year period, the amount of energy this man pumped into the Scottish traditional music scene would probably have been enough to power a mid-sized city. It was, however, nothing compared to what was to come.
During the endless round of summer festivals, Ian realised that a great deal of the talent he was seeing on stage quite simply didn't have a record company that was doing them justice.
That's not to say there were no labels. There were, but they almost all had their own agendas. Some were hangovers from the dreadful tartan-and-haggis era, where kilt was more important than content. Some were naked commercial operations which tried - laughably - to bend traditional acts into what they thought was top ten shape. Some companies produced good music, but weren't big enough to take on a wide roster of artists. In some, the label's owner was the only choice of producer, in some, the artist's publishing rights had to be assigned to the company, and so on. And so on.
And so, in 1986, Greentrax Recordings began life in the back bedroom of an Edinburgh council house.
A label that let the artist make the recordings they wanted to make. A no-frills, no hype label, one that would never promise the moon or tell the artist they were the next big thing. A label which always paid up exactly on time and kept its dealings entirely transparent. Transparent and honest.
Within the first few albums it was clear that Greentrax was going to be a success. Why? It was obvious. That one magic word: trust. This was Ian Green you were dealing with; you'd never have to watch your back. His reputation for utter probity now really began to tell. Established artists flocked to the label. Names like Aly Bain and Jean Redpath. Overseas artists like Eric Bogle and Natalie McMaster knew they now had a safe base in Scotland from which to license their recorded work. Together, Ian and June, along with a dedicated staff led by Elaine Sunter, made Greentrax known and respected around the world.
Greentrax 001 was A Breath Of Fresh Airs, by Ian Hardie. Nearly four decades on, Greentrax 417 is Tom Ward's Cobbled Together. In between lies a Who's Who of Scottish traditional music. Greentrax, the clear leader, is head and shoulders above every other label in Scotland.
But in the end, it's not commercial success which is the biggest tribute to Ian's vision. The best testimonial I ever heard to him was only three words long. It came from Gordon Duncan, the Paganini of the bagpipes, the morning after a marvellous Greentrax celebration concert in the Queen's Hall in Edinburgh. We were sitting in the hotel, waiting for transport. Gordon and the barman - another piper - got talking, and the barman asked if he was in Edinburgh for more than one gig. Gordon explained why we were there. The barman was surprised. Why would Gordon Duncan, a big star on the piping scene, come down to play a small part in such a concert? Gordon just shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's for Ian."
There's a piece of advice that we'd do well to pass on to anyone who intends to make a career out of standing on a stage and hoping to hear the sound of hands smacking together. It goes like this :
Yes, you can make it, but you can't make it alone. So, surround yourself with people you'd be happy to share your success with, people you know will support you - and give back to them what they gave to you.
People who would put their hand in the fire for you.
Let them become the people you'd put your own hand in the fire for in return.
People like my great friend Ian Green.