A Canadian Maritime Atlantic Province, consisting of 560,000 people, its namesake island (nicknamed "The Rock") carrying roughly the combined area of England and Wales is supplemented by Labrador, a vast, true wilderness area, carrying just 30,000 people, along the North Eastern coast of the North American mainland.

On the Island, long straight roads phough through a virtual wilderness of pine forests, tundra, mountains, lakes and fast running water, where huge, wrong side of the road GMC trucks, roadside diners and out of town malls (St John's) seem to insist "this is America". Then again there are the coasts, with rocky up and down roads twisting around the bays that form part of the outline of Newfoundland folk mythology. These carry icebergs, incongruously into sunny July days with the odd frolicking whale. Here, (icebergs exempted) you could be excused for thinking yourself alternately in Devon or the Isle of Skye. And yet Downtown, in the capital of St John's, has a feel probably closest to Dublin. This vibrant 500 year old clapboard city is made almost entirely of brightly painted wood, perched on gradients that often make you wonder if the cars could fall off the sides, or launch into take off.

The history of the province is littered with ancient, cultural references, often much closer to home. Remarkably the Vikings settled on the Northern Peninsular over 1000 years ago, while the Basques founded a 16th century whaling station on Labrador. It is of great sadness that the early settlers blew their initial goodwill with the native Island "Beothuk" Indians, a people of controversial and somewhat mysterious origins, who were wiped out by the early 19th century. Their sad demise was charted in the film "Finding Mary March" with a soundtrack produced and performed by Pamela Morgan.

However, native people are still found in Labrador, where the sub-arctic "Inne" and "Innuit" native peoples live, in addition to the "Micmacs" who came north more recently, from Nova Scotia.

Just off the coast of South Eastern Newfoundland lies a little anomalous piece of France in North America "St Pierre and Michelon", two tiny islands run as a "Departement" of France, with a history entwined with distant wars won and lost by European powers, fishing rights and smuggling, preferring the French Franc to the somewhat battered Canadian Dollar, and Boules to Ice Hockey.

The Irish arrived in force in 19th century Newfoundland, mainly from Ireland's South-East. These were often the poorest exiles of the potato famine, economic exiles who were unable to afford the additional boat fares to Boston and New York, or earlier escapees from fishing boats where they were sometimes worked as white slaves. Their descendants now account for almost half the population and make up the majority in St John's and the Avalon Peninsular. The west of the island includes an area of mainly Scottish descent, a farming community in the Codroy Valley. Up the Northern Peninsular lies the area homw to the late renowned fiddle player Rufus Guinchard. Further south lies the French-speaking Port au Port peninsular, famous for its late lamented son, the highly influential Emile Benoit. Emile did many things in his 79 year lifetime. He was a father of 13, fisherman, farmer, carpenter, healer, dentist, part-time veterinarian, blacksmith, story teller, raconteur, composer and musician, to name just a few, who performed, entertaining with his fiddle, until his death in 1992.

But it was West Country Elizabethans who staked the defining claim in Newfoundland. They came for apparently limitless stocks of Grand Banks Cod, a foolish notion now in hindsight, to thousands of out of work fishermen and shore workers who saw their livelihoods and envorinment raped by huge foreign and mainland factory ships over the past decade. The English settled despite bizarre early laws banning chimneys, to discourage settlement, thereby retaining dominion over the fishery, plus a pool of the most experienced sailors for the Royal Navy to draw upon.

The current economically depressed state is causing a huge but reluctant exodus, mainly to booming British Columbia, 5,000 miles away. This is reflected in a wealth of protest song: "The afore regulations permitted the rape of a beautiful ocean from headland to Cape, they brought in big trawlers, they tore up our twine. Politicians don't care for what's yours or what's mine" (Fisherman's Lament, Great Big Sea 1993).

Pamela Morgan also takes a side swipe at the purveyors of the "Newfie" joke "...Making jokes about a people and a culture from a gentler time, And the best small boatsmen in the world are on the dole, just stupid and lazy according to the Globe and Mail." (It Ain't Funny- On A Wing And A Prayer).

The descendants of the English are now dispersed mainly outside of the eastern Avalon Peninsular, around the bays, outports and logging towns of the Island, some of which were only connected to mains electricity and telephone lines in the 1950's and 60's. Road connections have still to reach some outports, which are only accessible by boat! Most of these will finally be fully connected to the great North American civilisation within the next 10 years. (Newfoundland was a British colony as recently as 1949, until its third referendum attempt produced a reluctant 51% in favour of joining with Canada.)

Regular visitors to St John's harbour until recently included Portugese and Basque fishermen, whose stocks of wines and brandy helped to make them the focus for portside parties, exhanging songs and dancing into the night, while a long-standing exchange existed with the Caribbean, trading the lowest grade of fish for the roughest grade of unrefined rum. This dark rum became known as "Screech", reputedly because of the noise Yankee skippers made when they tried it. This Caribbean trade might partly explain the popularity of reggae music in the province. There need be no undue fear of the modern version of "Screech", which is a smooth, nationalised and incorporated into the recent ceremony of "Screeching In" visiting honorary Newfoundlanders, which involves kissing a stuffed puffin or codfish.

Other visitors have included Pirates, English merchant shipment delivering fuel oil around the coastal outports, the US military, and most recently Russian, Cuban and East European refugees, claiming political asylum in Canada after touching down at Gander, a grim Aeroflot refuelling station. This last influx included artistic talent such as Serguei Tchepournov, a classically trained violin virtuoso, who reatures on Pamela Morgan's two most recent CD releases.

The Memorial University of St John's Folklore Department is known to rival any in North America. Researchers include folklorist and renowned traditional singer Anita Best, while recent students have included Séan McCann of Great Big Sea, who interrupted his folklore degree course to meet a burgeoning international tour schedule.

Newfoundland has drawn cultural strength from its variety of visitors and settlers, but also took shape from small isolated communities, drawn together by harsh winters and who at least until recently, lacked mass entertainment. This created an ideal medium for the preservation and development of traditional music, often manifesting itself in their sometimes manic kitchen parties. Elizabethan English has survived here in certain isolated places in the north, with "Thee" and "Thou" still spoken, while unique phrases and accents abound. There are about half a dozen distinct accents spoken, mainly including varying elements of Old English, Irish, Mainstream Canadian/American and a little French, which are somewhat difficult for the untrained listener to unravel.

From a distance, there is a natural tendency to lump all Atlantic Canadian music together and, while there is something of a common thread to the fiddle playing, for example interms of the bowing styles, right down the coast into Maine and New England. However, while the recent "Canadians are coming" boom in the UK promoted music centred on neighbouring Nova Scotia, one should realise that over 1000 miles of land and water separate the provincial capitals of St John's and Halifax. This has enabled two very different scenes to develop, with local tastes that barely converge on specifics. The Irish/English blend that dominates the roots of Newfoundland music contrast strikingly with the Scottish music fed through a parallel universe that has produced Nova Scotia's Cape Breton Island boom. A healthy rivalry exists between the two provinces, bringing with them the assertion that many Cape Breton fiddlers were incapable of playing without the strict tempo piano vamping accompaniments reminiscent of our own cherished school memories of Country Dance. On the other hand, Cape Bretons point out that many outport Newfoundland accordion players are happy to play the same 11 tunes for every dance.

While Atlantic Canadian music has the reputation of being healthy and innovative at the moment, this should be seen in the context of Canadian music in general. You could quite understandably doubt me when I say that in Canada, folk music is mainstream. The main CBC Channel's mid evening Saturday variety show is as likely to stage Atlantic Canadian Celtic rock band Rawlin's Cross or St John's Irish Descendants as it is to show the more universal pop/soul schlock. And while out walking in the mall, you might catch an earful of our very own Richard Thompson!

In Newfoundland (and Cape Breton), every community large enough for the occasional 4 car traffic jam organises its own folk festival. These are not populated by the beardy wierdies beloved of much of our own scene and cordoned off from 'normal' holiday makers or park goers, instead here much of the whole community gets involved, inviting commercial sponsors, including Newfoundland's favorite beverages, Tetley Tea and Black Horse Beer (a Moulson mainland takeover). This income, in addition to government arts grants, have been sufficient to keep the entry cost down to a few dollars, while local PA sound hire companies admit to being unable to make a living without doing folk festivals.

With folk music being mainstream in Canada, there is much tendency to put a variety of genres on a bill and much crossover material exists (check out the "Plankertown Band" and its inheritor "The Planks"), while people of all ages are more likely to appreciate teh tradition in its most unadulterated form. However, the downside is for some larger bands to have put a big time MOR spin on the tradition, or putting on cynical country and western slants aimed at the much larger US market. This "wholesome", family orientated end is typified by over slick presentation and fixed apple pie grins. Nova Scotia's "Rankins" family dominates this sector across English speaking Eastern Canada, where their brief flashes of inspired instrumentals medley awkwardly into impressions of the 'Singing Chipmunks'.

What has become known as "Newfie Music" has its local purveyors and higher profile detractors. Performed mainly in bars, often to ex-pat Newfoundlanders, surprisingly across much of Canada, it began in the Irish communities around St John's, with a populist, harmony sing-along approach, mixing country and western taken from the radio with local Come All Ye's and Sea Shanties, plus Irish pub standards. By way of the "Newfie bar" it spread the notion of Newfoundland music as being undemanding, lacking in instrumental prowess or originality and clad in Sou-westers or little green hats.

The country and western element is understandable, as many peoples with strong local folk cultures being presented with the new mediums of radio and TV for the first time often grab hold of the nearest alternative on offer. "Newfie Music" is offered by groups such as The Sharecroppers, whose live act is capable of entertaining large general audiences, as they achieved at the 'International Festival of the Sea' in Bristol 1996, but whose recorded efforts might be better left on Cassette-only releases.

Having experienced "Newfie Music", many music journalists, radio presenters and promoters have written off the music of the province as second-rate compared to that of the mother countries. Others, inside and outside of the province, will attempt to argue that Newfoundland music, as is sometimes said of the 'type' of pony of that name, doesn't really exist outside of elements from elsewhere, robbed from other sources, or the product of maverick individuals. This seems very unfair, since the more that one delves into traditional music, the more interrelated it seems, while single (or narrow) minded purism, wherever it comes from, easily finds a rod for its own back.

But wider perceptions of Newfoundland are changing at last, following the sniffy, sub-colonial attitudes that Figgy Duff were alone in fighting so hard to overcome, through much of the 1980's. Newfoundland artists are always hamstrung by the nature of their isolation and the costs of travel, particularly in view of the poor local economy. Toronto is as far as London, yet still Eastern Canada. The right wing government in Ottowa, still calling itself 'Liberal', has sharply cut budgets and include touring and the arts.

The huge bank of traditional music in Newfoundland is second in North America only to the Appalachian Mountains. While many quirky and interesting dance tunes exist in Newfoundland, it is the song that forms the greater part of this treasure, particlarly outside of St John's.

Anita Best was brought up on Merasheen Island in Placentia Bay: "Songs were sung without music: Music was saved for dancing. The men sang down in the shop, the twine store around a key of home brew, down in the forecastle of a schooner, or the bunkhouse of a lumber-camp. The women could be heard upstairs in the bedroom during wedding receptions, in a corner of the hall after the garden party dishes were done, or on stage during the Christmas or Paddy's Day concert, and sometimes as they knitted in the rocking chair beside the kitchen stove. Songs of all kinds were a substantial part of the night's entertainment that might include step dances, square dances and lancers; jokes and riddles, fairy tales and ghost stories; or just gossip and general news gathering." (Cross Handed - Amber Music '97).

In this melting pot of old world traditions, songs may have originated in England, but gained an Irish tune, or starting with Irish lyrics and gaining an English tune, ofter re-written locally. Alternatively, many new ones were written to reflect contemporary events, such as shipwrecks.

Pamela Morgan spent 19 years fronting the groundbreaking fold rock band Figgy Duff, until the sad premature death from cancer of Noel Dinn, the band's major driving force. Pamela remembers the 70's as heralding "... an era of new found discovery and pride in Newfoundland. But our source of uniqueness and strength was also our obstacle. There was no music industry on this windswept island... In the early years wer travelled what seemed like every square inch of Newfoundland, seeking songs and music from the people. We played community halls, clubs, festivals, kitchens, full houses, empty houses to audiences indifferent, hostile, enraptured. In St John's we were eyed with suspicion by the folklore set, who were rediscovering their uncles oilskins ..... some of the purists were downright enraged that their precious folk music was being tampered with by long-haired "urban intellectuals" using drums and amps. But in those years we measured our success by the joy we brought to the people from who we learnt the music - who instinctively understood that you can't cram a delicate and beautiful modal melody into a three chord country format." (Figgy Duff Retrospective '74 - '93, Amber Music).

The young, four piece acoustic outfit Great Big Sea were brought up and live in St John's and have managed the biggest impact of any Newfoundland act, having achieved a number one CD, double platinum album sales and a number one single (The Oyster Band's "When I'm Up"). But for bassist Darrell Power, it was hearing a song "Excursion Around The Bay" (Great Big Sea '93 NRA 3-1002) being sung by girls skipping in the street, when he first felt that they had made it. The song had come up uniquely, through his familly.

In Newfoundland, the fiddle has a growing popularity among the young. Where elso could you see a large class of kids aged 9-14 playing "The Hen's March Through The Midden", as coached by Kelly Russell, complete with Swarb style bow on Violin top, tick-tock tapping? But it is the Hohner diatonic button accordion that is boss (the English call them Melodeons). In Water Street (North America's oldest), the essential "O'Brien's Music Shop" regularly wins an award for the greatest sales of Hohner accordions in Canada.

The tunes are played fast here, perhaps reflecting the release of energy that comes with the unimaginably hard working life that many Newfoundlanders grew up in (it is not fun that drives men onto shifting pack ice in raging seas to cull seals). In the main, the tunes are stripped to their essentials, a solid driving approach that never sounds rushed, perhaps by eliminating the flowery phrasing that characterises many Irish approaches. There is also good reason to believe that English tunes were played faster, prior to the English folk revival. That wonderful stalwart Frank Maher unconsciously makes the English derived part of his accordion repertoire sound more Irish, and insists that they came from the Emerald Isle. While the "Singles" and "Doubles" are not quite like our own more recognisable reels and polkas. Consequently, something of a whole exists to the approach of playing tunes, whether local or from wherever.

The eighty year old piano accordion player Minnie White has become quite a phenomenon, playing her first concert in her 50's and being awarded "The Order of Canada". Frail and hunched, she plays fast driving tunes, mainly of English or locally written origin, often backed by an electric band. Musicians and singers coming straight out of the tradition, as a distinct from the revival, usually take a pragmatic approach to using modern instrumentation and would have used whatever was to hand all along. Both Emile and Rufus, as well as Minnie, each achieved their fame as a result of recognition outside the province. Prime examples of treasures too close to home to realise their true worth.

At a folk festival or concert, you might be surprised to find yourself standing at the end to the Newfoundland National Anthem. Written by a turn of the century colonial governor, it is unusual among such beasts in having no military references and in having a real resonance among the people, where it is easy to believe the gentle, intimate aura it casts. "Ode to Newfoundland".