Stephanie Conn

writer, researcher, producer


Cape Breton


St. Ann’s bay, looking towards River Bennett

Cape Breton looks different in every season. In summer it is dark green and blue and smells of salt and pine; the fire- and churchhalls are bursting with dancers and spilling over with fiddle music. In the winter it is quiet, the snowy hills carved like stone, every social visit celebrated and wrung out for all it can be. But here is Cape Breton in the Fall, all contradictions: soft yellow marsh grass, bays as still as a millpond one day and as wild as the North Atlantic can be the next. Cafes closing for the season, and the Celtic Colours festival club pressing on into the wee hours. Continue reading “transitions”


The Scots in Cape Breton

More info on this soon: I’ll be teaching a new course at University of Toronto’s Celtic Studies (St. Michael’s College)

SMC377H1F : The Scots in Cape Breton An examination of the ways in which Scottish immigrants shaped the culture of Cape Breton and by extension Canada, with particular reference to language, literature, music and folklore.

I can’t wait to share my passion for these people and their culture with a small group of interested students, and I’m itching to get started on planning the course.


Peter’s Tapes

demos the reetoreel machine

A highlight of my visits with Peter MacLean were sessions at his reel-to-reel machine. As we meandered thorough hours and hours of his recordings of Gaelic and English song, violin and piano, I felt like a time traveler eavesdropping on house parties, quiet visits, concerts and radio shows. Once we had fallen into that rabbit hole where long-vanished sounds came back to life, we were not likely to surface for many hours.

Peter MacLean’s collection of 48 multi-sided reel-to-reel tapes stand as a significant piece of Cape Breton musical history. They are a connoisseur’s collection of songs in Gaelic in English, fiddle music, party chatter and radio shows; an example of a personal archive; and a source of songs that sustained his own practice and along with other tape archives, which will aid in the future transmission of Gaelic song in CB.

When he moved into hospital Peter asked that we help to preserve his tapes, and so Paul MacDonald made digital copies of the precious ribbons. Coming soon on this blog: a preview of my article about this remarkable collection.

“Fitting between Present and Past…”

EthnoForum-myissueMy article, ““Fitting between Present and Past: Memory and Social Interaction in Cape Breton Gaelic Singing” is now available. You can download it from the publisher directly.

Ask a Gaelic singer in Cape Breton to help you learn a particular song and they might begin by commenting about its melody or clever wordplay. They will probably sing it for you, or ask you to sing part of it for them. If it has been published, they might bring out a well-worn copy of a Gaelic songbook.  Most often, however, they begin to reminisce in detail about who used to sing the song, and how, and under what circumstances. Now, after many years of visiting Cape Breton, I, too, find that each song reminds me of the person I first heard sing it. For example, I will never hear A Fhleasgaich Uasail without thinking of the late Donald MacDonnell of Mabou and his heartfelt performance at the Johnstown Milling Frolic. It quietened the rowdy room until you could have heard a pin drop.

Such experiences have called me to examine what is behind this linking of musical associations. Surely it is more than mere sentimentality– although surely, it is partly nostalgia. In The Anthropology of Performance, Victor Turner wrote that performative meaning is constructed through, as he put it, “negotiating about ‘fit’ between present and past.”  Indeed, it seems that any rendition of a Gaelic song resonates not only with the present circumstances but also with the memories of past performances. One comes to understand a song as a composite of evolving memories, performances and meanings … but it seems that a song’s meaning is not just referential, and does not point solely towards the past.

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