Shelagh McDonald
Live In London 1971

From Lagga's original notes:
"The sound quality is much better than most of the Shoebox tapes - the usual cuts between tracks /to save tape & batteries/ are there, but the sound is close and clear."

Lineage:
Lagga's shoebox tape > WAV > FLAC > Upload to Dime >
DL > WaveLab 5 (removed sound prior to the "cuts" which
were just a short burst of loud applause, slight fade
applied to some, a few level dropouts were evened up and
then boosted levels by 3db throughout) > FLAC (level 8,
align on sector boundaries) > TLH > Upload

In my opinion, these fixes that I did resulted in a much more enjoyable listen, especially on repeated plays. Without the sudden and loud applause to distract from the
pleasure of these recordings, this now flows through in a much more satisfying way. I also have now corrected and unified the beuatiful artwork by Novella1949 along
with an (orphaned) users work into one that now enhances this wonderful collectable even more. Tracks are titled and tagged, as well, in this version.
Remaster and upload to Dime by Simmdale in April 2009.


Setlist:

01 - Look Over The Hill And Far Away
02 - Rod's Song
03 - Book Of Rhyme (Liz's Song)
04 - Mirage
05 - Odyssey
06 - Polly Pretty Polly (False Start)
07 - Silk And Leather
08 - City's Cry
09 - Peacock Lady
10 - Jailhouse Blues
11 - Ophelia's Song


Musicians:
Shelagh McDonald - Vocals, and maybe some guitar
Unknown Guitarist - Probably Keith Christmas (although possibly Richard Thompson, as it sometimes sounds to me), whomever it is playing on this with Shelagh is a very proficient player.


A very rare LAGGASHOEBOX find


SHELAGH McDONALD - Never said she was coming back - Live London Feb 1971


INTRODUCTION:
"This womans voice is to die for. Think Nick Drake mixed with Sandy Denny and you are getting close to the evocative delivery and melancholic tinge to Shelagh McDonalds voice."
"Simply, she is THE great English voice of the period - if she'd fronted a "name" band like Fairport or Steeleye Span, her music would be available today on a variety of reissued collections."
McDonald came to London from Edinburgh in the 1960s and was feted by Melody Maker, NME and ZigZag. She was a composer with promise, a voice blending the melancholy of Sandy Denny and the
birdsong of Joan Baez, and a beauty who didn't capitalise on her looks. Signed to Sandy Roberton's B&C Records, she didn't move many units with her first outing, but a second album was to
prove a dramatic leap forward. However, within months of the release of Stargazer, a mini-masterpiece from 1971, she was nowhere to be found, and her phone had been disconnected. On the cusp
of fame and fortune, talented and critically acclaimed songwriter Shelagh McDonald disappeared. Now her music is back in print, but the royalties remain uncollected, and her whereabouts are
a mystery.

ABOUT THE TAPE:
During the years I have had the privilege to seed my old tapes - some of them quite unique - but looking back this must be THE TAPE!
I didn't remember this recording at all until I came across a review of Shelagh McDonalds new CD-compilation "Let No Man Steal Your Thyme".
I got a vague recollection that I maybe could have recorded Shelagh in February 1971.
And there hidden at the end of the Steeleye Span/Jethro Tull tape it was! And it shines! I love it!

It starts with "Look Over The Hills And Far Away" and "Rod's Song". There are 11 tracks - 33 minutes!
The sound quality is much better than most of the Shoebox tapes - the sound is close and clear.
It must have been recorded the last week in February 1971 most likely at a London University folk club.

Shelagh McDonald is a rare find - I hope this short tape will help more people to take her to their heart.
Enjoy! LAGGA



INFO:

http://www.netrhythms.co.uk/reviewsm.html

Shelagh McDonald - Let No Man Steal Your Thyme (Castle)
Shelagh's was never a household name, even within the hallowed realms of the folk enthusiast, but she so richly deserved the status and her damnably short career is the stuff of legend.
Arguably even more so since she did a complete vanishing act in 1972 after releasing just two LPs which showed her to be a performer of considerable talent and promise. And she's not been
heard of since then - no, not at all. So to all intents and purposes, Let No Man Steal Your Thyme is all you're ever going to get in terms of recordings; it's the absolutely complete
collection. On two CDs it brings us the entire contents of both of Shelagh's LPs, originally released on B&C (1970's The Shelagh McDonald Album and 1971's Stargazer), along with all
retrievable alternate takes, outtakes and demos and the tracks which appeared on the Club Folk records. If you already own the Mooncrest CD editions of the two albums (which came out around
five or six years back), which included most of the extra material mentioned, you're still likely to want this new collection, for it opens with the brace of (admittedly less than
characteristic) acoustic country-blues-style tracks recorded live and originally available only on the obscure 1969 BBC compilation Dungeon Folk. And it has a finely detailed new booklet
note by David Wells, which not only provides full credits for the recordings (unlike the Mooncrest reissues), but also states the case for Shelagh's artistry most persuasively. Not that it
could pass you by when you play the CDs, for Shelagh had a superb singing voice by any standards, notwithstanding the strength and individuality of her songwriting. Her singing matched the
purity of a Judy Collins with the dexterity and range of Joni Mitchell (the melodic contours of whose songs, not to mention the actual writing, Shelagh's resembled at times too), but it's
Sandy Denny to whom Shelagh was most often considered the heir in the solo female artist stakes (Sandy herself having at that point forsaken a solo career for a group setting). Shelagh seemed
to have everything (striking good looks too!), although the critical approval which her music garnered wasn't matched by LP sales. Then there was the vigour of the supporting playing -
producer Sandy Roberton had gathered round Shelagh a real who's-who of fine guest musos for each session. Album featured Andy Roberts, Gerry Conway, Pat Donaldson, Gordon Huntley, Ian Whiteman
and Keith Tippett, as well as fellow singer-songwriter Keith Christmas (with whom Shelagh had been briefly involved while living in Bristol in 1969). Aside from bringing on board Messrs
Christmas and Whiteman again, Stargazer featured an even more diverse array of talents, from Richard Thompson, Dave Mattacks and Danny Thompson to Mac & Katie Kissoon! Some of the musical
arrangements employed were pretty ambitious, and were masterminded by Robert Kirby (who'd done string settings for Nick Drake), and thus don't fall into the despised 70s over-production trap.
As well as Shelagh's own songs (which provide the main focus only on Stargazer, whereas roughly a third of Album was covers, albeit superior ones, of material by Christmas, Roberts and Gerry
Rafferty). As well as this collection's title track, the traditional song repertoire is represented by a stunning, brooding version of the traditional Dowie Dens Of Yarrow which would have
put many a contemporaneous folk-rock treatment well and truly in the shade. Though her albums sounded very much in the mould of upcoming folk-rock-pop singer-songwriter offerings of the time,
none of the tracks Shelagh recorded seem really to have dated (at least to my ears). If you've not caught up with Shelagh's work before now, then hasten along and get this set. Join with me
in regretting Shelagh's disappearance, sure, but rejoice with me that her complete recorded legacy is here for our permanent enjoyment.
Well, we all love a good mystery, don't we? Especially when it's somewhat tragic and involves a talented young artist whose intentions we'll just never be able to fully fathom. It's at least
part of the reason Nick Drake albums will continue to be repackaged or some filmmaker will eventually decide Gus Van Sant's version of Kurt Cobain's last days didn't definitively answer any
questions and will attempt to come up with something better. We don't know if Shelagh McDonald's story involves a premature demise, but at the very least there's a missing persons report in it
somewhere.
Born in Scotland, McDonald moved to England in the late-'60s where she was immediately ensconced in the burgeoning folk and singer-songwriter scene. Her boyfriend at the time was Keith
Christmas, a great songwriter in his own right, who recommended McDonald be signed to the production company he was working for. In early 1970, she began recording her first album at Joe
Boyd's studio, entitled The Shelagh McDonald Album; it featured beautiful contributions from the likes of Christmas, Keith Tippett, various members of Mighty Baby, as well as string
arrangements by Robert Kirby (the gentleman who did the same for Nick Drake). In fact, the McDonald composition on here called "Ophelia's Song," what with those characteristic Kirby strings
and woodwinds, sounds exactly like a long lost outtake from Bryter Layter. The record was critically well-received at the time, with lots of press speculation that she was soon to inherit all
the plaudits that were usually directed towards Sandy Denny. Nevertheless, Album failed to do well commercially. This didn't stop her from immediately planning her second album, and the
following year she reconvened in the studio with a band that included Danny Thompson from the Pentangle, Richard Thompson and Dave Mattacks from Fairport Convention, and Robert Kirby back in
the arranging chair. Stargazer is every bit the equal to her first, a low key suite of songs that cements her status as one of the greatest female singer songwriters of the early-'70s. And
then that was it, her final masterpiece was released and less than a year later she either vanished or totally dropped out of the scene, it seems none of her friends nor partners in crafting
these works ever heard from her again. Repeated attempts of finding her over the last 30 years have all come to naught. A pity then, that a singer whose albums bear comparison to the best of
the likes of Joni Mitchell or Judee Sill and whom Robert Kirby claims had a better voice than Nick Drake, has been relegated to lingering obscurity. Hopefully, having both her albums in print
again will do something to rectify that situation, and maybe we'll even find out what she's been doing all these years. [MK] 'Let No Man Steal Your Thyme' is out now on Castle/Sanctuary
records.



Mystery woman Shelagh McDonald was on her way to being a folk star in the Seventies when she disappeared. Charles Donovan investigates... Published: 23 June 2005

On the cusp of fame and fortune in 1972, talented and critically acclaimed songwriter Shelagh McDonald disappeared. Now her music is back in print, but the royalties remain uncollected, and
her whereabouts are a mystery.
A performer and composer with the poise of Joni Mitchell and the whimsy of Nick Drake. That was McDonald. But after unleashing two albums, she vanished. No one has seen her for 33 years. No
death records exist to confirm the worst, yet her former collaborators are somehow certain she is alive.
McDonald came to London from Edinburgh in the 1960s and was feted by Melody Maker, NME and ZigZag. She was a composer with promise, a voice blending the melancholy of Sandy Denny and the
birdsong of Joan Baez, and a beauty who didn't capitalise on her looks. Signed to Sandy Roberton's B&C Records, she didn't move many units with her first outing (1970's artlessly entitled
Shelagh McDonald Album), but a second album was to prove a dramatic leap forward. However, within months of the release of Stargazer, a mini-masterpiece from 1971, she was nowhere to be found,
and her phone had been disconnected.
There are rumours of a disastrous LSD experience, a move to North America, a career as a children's author, reinvention as a teller of folk stories in US, and the possibility of death. No
theory has panned out, though none has been entirely disproved. Now her music is back in print, in the form of Let No Man Steal Your Thyme, a compilation comprising everything else she's known
to have recorded. It's clocking up the kind of sales that McDonald never enjoyed when she was in the public eye.
Her friends and collaborators can shed little light on what happened to her. Keith Christmas, the singer/songwriter instrumental in landing Shelagh her record deal, recalls first seeing her at
the Troubador. "She seemed so talented. The audience was in love with her - she had an elfin, raggedy-dress quality that downplayed her femininity and a strong Scottish reserve that made her
mysterious."
Despite product in the stores, good reviews, and a "new Sandy Denny" sobriquet, McDonald was in trouble, as Keith Christmas witnessed: "She'd moved to a horrible block of flats in Islington
just like the Gorbals, with about the same amount of soul."
McDonald is thought to have made only moderate use of narcotics, but moderation alone can spell disaster for some. "The last I heard, she'd had a bad trip, been taken to hospital and her
parents had come to take her back," says Christmas. "She was a lovely person and deserved a lot more from some of her so-called advisers than she got. She was as a shy and gentle soul who
somehow got lost in a nightmare."
Robert Kirby, arranger both to McDonald and to Nick Drake, remembers an upbeat woman. "She was jolly, very big smile, lots of conversation, great fun to be with." He doesn't think that her
Islington flat brought about her downfall. "Yes, it was a tenement with grimy corridors, but when you're 22 that doesn't matter. I didn't really encounter her in depressed mode."
Kirby isn't certain that a bad acid trip is all McDonald was up against, and that an intense relationship with an unidentified man may have prompted her to flee. "It was not making her happy,
that's my reading, and she was trying to get away from it."
Sandy Roberton has no leads. "I know she left London and went back up to Scotland. I just hope she is happy." There is no documented evidence of McDonald's death, and an APB put out on her in
America has yielded nothing. McDonald's admirers and colleagues, including Geoff, who runs a website about her music, don't want to force her out of hiding.They just want her to know that the
music that spilt from her soul remains locked in their hearts.
There is a groundswell of goodwill awaiting Shelagh, should she reappear, and one last twist: her royalties remain uncollected. She may have no interest in the funds owed to her, but to
reassure her fellow musicians and longstanding fans that she is alive and well would be a much appreciated gesture.



During the late 1960s and early 1970s many female folk singers appear inspired by such as Joan Baez, Sandy Denny, Anne Briggs and Melanie. Shelagh McDonald from Scotland was one such singer and
one of rare talent. It is therefore sad that little is known of her and that she only made two albums before seeming to disappear. Her first album in 1970 was a well received folk album that
sat between contemporary and traditional styles and managed the tricky task of being accepted by both of these camps. The second album had high expectations and a number of the songs appeared
in embryonic form on compilation albums popular during the period. Artists such as Dave Mattacks and Danny Thompson provide instrumental support providing a top quality backing.
Upon listening to the album the listener is immediately taken with the pure strong voice which while having folk credibility also seems to reach out in a more general way. The songs themselves
are generally at the popular end of folk with backing singers and singer-songwriter popular arrangements rather than being traditional in nature. 'Rod's Song' at the start is typical of this
and is surprisingly up-tempo. Each song is guided by acoustic guitar or piano supporting the vocal excellently such as on the second song 'Liz's Song'. 'Lonely King' is a pensive slow ballad
with solo piano. 'City's Cry' starts an ordinary folk ballad before eerie cello enters briefly joined by Danny Thompson's bass. 'Dowie Dens of Yarrow' is particularly interesting as it is a
folk-rock version of the traditional song more typical of the Sandy Denny line-up of Fairport Convention than a solo artist. It commences with organ, guitar and cymbal washes before Dave
Mattacks begins his rolling exploratory tom tom work along with a subdued but probing bass line. The vocal is entrancing, searching amongst the words and carrying this more powerful tune with
ease. 'Canadian Man' has a lovely melody based around vocal and piano that reminds strongly of later Kate Bush on her 'Woman's Work' album. 'Good Times' has a rolling languid folk-pop feel with
organ and saxophone that is similar to Van Morrison. 'Odyssey' is a longer work that moves from simple folk into more rocky sections with electric guitar soloing and is in the style of artists
like Trees. On the last track of the album 'Stargazer' the artist reaches a pinnacle with a string led slower song accentuated by piano with a beautiful understated vocal performance. This song
reaches out in a way that not many are able to. The strings are arranged by Robert Kirby of Nick Drake fame but here are more dramatic and emotional, rising and falling with the flow of the
music. At 2:44 deep massed male vocals join providing a kind of choir which then expands with strings and female voices into a stunning crescendo of devastating emotional power. this track seems
fairly unique in folk music, indeed if it were not for the melody line it would not be classified as folk music.
On the CD of the album the album is completed with versions of a number of songs from compilation albums and left over sessions. 'Road to Paradise' is a driving up-tempo rocky song. 'Sweet
Sunlight' is a piano and vocal song notable for an excellent melody. 'Spin' goes through two increasingly rocky versions that shows the artists may have evolved into something entirely different
is she had continued to record. So, overall, we have an excellent progressive folk album that stretches the form into new forms taking in rock and orchestral music. In using the piano
comprehensively it is fairly unique for the time. On some tracks such as 'Dowie Dens of Yarrow', 'Odyssey' and especially 'Stargazer' she achieves a unique sound and it is a shame that there are
not any further albums to continue the development of this now mysterious and missed artist.



BACK FROM THE WILDERNESS
By Grace Macaskill © Scottish Daily Mail - 19th November 2005

SHE WAS SET TO BE A SCOTS JONI MITCHELL BUT VANISHED INEXPLICABLY. NOW AT LAST, SHE EXPLAINS THE MYSTERY

Three decades later: Shelagh McDonald, 57 (at the time this was written), is still recognisable as the elfin-faced folk singer who had a bad experience with the drug LSD and vanished from the
scene in 1972, leaving only her records behind.

It was a mystery that baffled the world of music. One minute, Shelagh McDonald was on the cusp of stardom - the next, there was no sign of the young woman's whimsical songs and haunting voice
that had taken the early 1970's folk scene by storm.
Fans had loved her bewitching live performances, while critics hailed her distinctive style. Record company bosses watched in delight as her albums flew off the shelves. Could this be the new
Joni Mitchell, they all asked?
But, just as Shelagh's fame was starting to spread, inexplicably the 24 year old turned tail and fled - and for the next 30 years, the world heard nothing of her fate.
Even her friends did not know why or where she had gone, or even if she was still alive. Her record company was left wondering if she would ever return to the stage or the recording studio.
To the public at large, Shelagh was all but forgotten, until earlier this year, when her albums were re-released. Suddenly, there was a flurry of renewed interest in her mysterious disappearance.
The Scottish Daily Mail told the intriguing tale of the elfin faced Scottish folk singer who had disappeared on the brink of fame. So completely had she vanished from the world that her elderly
parents had gone to their graves not knowing what had become of her.
But now we can shed new light on this riddle. After reading the article about her life, Shelagh ended three decades of self imposed obscurity and walked into our office to tell her story.
She could have had money and fame as a musician - but a bad experience with drugs left her psychologically scarred. Running away from society she embraced a nomadic and bohemian lifestyle,
wandering the country and living in a tent.
Now 57, she told us "I know I may have hurt a lot of people by just disappearing, but my simple life is so much better and I am happier than ever before. I loved life in London but I had to
leave. I had signed a record contract and was really happy with the way life was going, but then everything turned upside down.

Shelagh's story sheds an uneasy light over the heady music scene of the early 1970s. Like so many from the same era, she experimented with drugs - and paid an appalling price after they left her
paranoid and psychologically battered.
Born in 1948, she had enjoyed a prosperous, middle class upbringing in the Edinburgh suburbs. Her father ran a publishing business while her mother kept house. At school, Shelagh discovered a
talent and passion for music and, as soon as she was old enough, she left Scotland for Bristol, lured by the city's burgeoning folk scene.
Things moved quickly for the strikingly beautiful young woman and, as her reputation as a singer and songwriter grew, she was championed by a manager who recognised her rare talent and moved
her to London.
She regularly pulled in crowds at the famous Troubadour club and mingled with legendary performers such as Nick Drake, the recently rediscovered folk singer whose celebrity fans include actor
Brad Pitt.
Within months she signed a record deal. Although her first album, simply titled Shelagh McDonald, received only a lukewarm response, her second release, Stargazer, was a big hit.
The young Scot seemed destined for fame, with growing legions of fans, and was feted by music magazines such as Melody Maker and NME, which said her voice blended "the melancholy of Sandy Denny
with the birdsong of Joan Baez". Critics and fans warmed to the sensitive, hippy lyrics of songs such as Sweet Sunlight, Road to Paradise and City's Cry.
But, just as Shelagh's career looked set to take off, her life began to falter. A relationship turned sour, she found herself living in a rough area of London and, most damaging of all, she
began experimenting with drugs.
Her fragile and sensitive personality could not cope with the psychedelic onslaught of the cannabis and LSD so readily available in the folk scene.
"Everybody was experimenting with drugs," she recalls. "But in April 1972 I took a trip that turned my world upside down. I thought it would be out of my system within 12 hours, but three weeks
later I was still hallucinating.
"It wasn't the kind of colourful hallucination you normally got with LSD - this was horrific. I was walking around the shops and looking at people who had no eyes or features, their faces were
just blank. "It went on for so long, I just forgot to eat and was just skin and bone. I was all over the place and didn't seem to know what I was doing or where to turn to. "Suddenly, I had to
get out. My disappearance wasn't at all conscious. It was a coping mechanism - self-preservation."
Without a word to her friends or manager, she travelled north to her parents' new home in Glasgow and hid from the drug induced demons that haunted her. As time passed, the psychological scars
began to heal.
But her singing voice was unaccountably ruined. She says: "I sounded like a cat being strangled. I was so sad. I suddenly found I had lost my place in the musical world I had loved. I had lost
my talent."
She sought relief in the normality of suburban life, living with her parents and working nine-to-five in a Glasgow department store. In 1981, she met and fell in love with bookshop owner Gordon
Farquhar, who helped rekindle her hippy idealism.
Despite the disapproval of her parents, the pair began to drift away from society. Sometimes in Scotland, sometimes abroad, they adopted an almost nomadic lifestyle, living on benefits and
moving from house to house around the country. Eventually, swayed by their flower-power ideals and back-to-nature philosophy, they gave up living in houses and took to travelling the country
with a tent. It was the ultimate withdrawal from society.
"For years we have enjoyed travelling around the Scottish islands and mainland, setting up tent wherever we can," says Shelagh. "I love the lifestyle - it keeps me close to nature and defines
me mentally and physically. People may think it strange, but I am genuinely happy after all this time. I suppose I couldn't totally shake off my hippy roots."
She never renewed contact with her former friends and associates on the music scene, and gradually lost contact even with her family. She says "It just became more and more difficult to call
home and eventually I just lost touch. After that, I was scared to call them - too much had happened and too much time had passed between us."
But, while Shelagh was doing her best to forget about her life as a musician, the music scene never forgot her. Her albums were still selling and still bringing in a profit for her record
company. A royalties cheque for thousands of pounds was waiting her her, if only she had thought to collect it. But, when her albums were re-released earlier this year, she remained oblivious
to the renewed interest in her career and life.
She only learned her parents had died when she read her own story in the Scottish Daily Mail. "It was a great shock to me," she says. "People must think I am cold for never getting back in touch
with my parents, but our family are Christian Scientists and I know my mother and father would have understood. I still believe they are with me in spirit and that not even death can part us."
When Shelagh walked into our office last week, she looked fit and healthy. The dark, flowing hair of her youth was cut short and laced with grey streaks, and the fresh face that stared out from
her album covers was now lined and wrinkled. Yet her eyes still sparkled. Remarkably, she also revealed that the singing voice that won her so many fans has returned, and she is once again
writing songs. She said "The happier I have become over the years, the more my voice has improved. I am writing songs and I enjoy music again. I don't know if I would have been so popular had I
not had the experience I did and disappeared. Perhaps my music would have just burned out." Now it's very strange to hear my albums are enjoying a revival - I don't even have a copy of my
original, and haven't heard it since the 1970's. I was amazed to find out people were still talking about me after all this time. I've just come forward now to let everyone know I'm safe and
well." The Scottish Daily Mail reunited Shelagh by telephone with her one-time boyfriend Keith Christmas, who had been a 20 year old long-haired musician when they first met in the late 1960's.
He was astounded to discover Shelagh had turned up, after years of wondering what happened to her. Mr. Christmas, who once supported The Who on tour, said "It's fantastic to know she is well
after all this time and that she is enjoying music again. I couldn't believe it when I heard her voice on the phone - I recognised it straight away. "Shelagh was one of the great, promising
artists of our era and it's sad that she didn't go on to fulfil her potential, but I am just glad to know she is happy and healthy."
So what now? Will she return to the music industry and try to reclaim the career that she was forced to abandon all those years ago? Only time will tell.
Last night, a spokesman for Sanctuary Records, which has re-released Shelagh's work, said "Her work is still enjoyed by many people and we would be interested to hear any new music. She was a
truly talented artist who was destined to release more music. It is a shame she decided to leave the music scene."