Frank Spedding & ‘Glasgow Belongs to Me’

Glasgow Belongs to Me (1966) is one of my favourite British Transport Film (BTF) documentaries. It features my native city at a time when I was slowly becoming aware of my surroundings and was beginning to take an interest in history, architecture and things mechanical: I had recently bought my first trainspotting notebook.  I never saw this film in the cinema at that time and had to wait more than forty years until it was released on DVD. The liner notes give a good precis of the film: ‘A sketch of the emotional quality of life in a great city. The Glaswegian is the product of historical tensions; this film traces his development from the inhabitant of a Clydeside hamlet to the beneficiary and victim of a unique industrialisation.’

The idea for the film was created by the kenspeckle (well-known and easily recognisable) Glaswegian author, broadcaster and historian, Jack House. The screenplay was developed by Laurence Henson and Edward McConnell.

The opening credits feature a wonderful collection of chimney cowls, rooftops and riverside cranes, accompanied by jaunty music which is not Scottish in mood. The ‘plot’ of the film is predicated on the arrival at St Enoch Station of an English businessman, from somewhere ‘down south.’ He attempts to hire a taxi but has no idea where he wants to go. So, the cabbie shows him around. The remainder of the film is an exploration of Glasgow, both culturally and industrially. Only a small amount of this is presented to the Englishman by the Taxi driver.

After some stereotypical pictures of tenements, George Square and football played in a street devoid of cars, Roddy McMillan sings the eponymous song, ‘Glasgow Belongs to Me’. There follow evocative shots of businessmen in bowler hats (my first boss wore one), nurses walking down Castle Street outside the Glasgow Royal Infirmary and people strolling across George Square. This ‘public space’ has been messed about with over the years and is often covered with paraphernalia for various events.

Football plays a big part in this documentary. The film includes some haunting moments from an old firm game at Hampden Park. The narrator explains the ambivalent nature of the Glaswegian: Green and Blue, Highlander and Lowlander, Protestant and Catholic, Irish and native Clydesider. It is mixed blood indeed. But this is what made Glasgow great...

A potted history of the city follows. From the siting of the Cathedral on the banks of the wee Molendinar burn by St Mungo, by way of the tobacco industry, the cotton trade and finally engineering and manufacturing, the history unfolds. Shipbuilding and railway engines are of great importance. The status of the Clyde as a port is emphasised by shots of cargo ships passing a forest of cranes. One vessel, the Tactician, is seen passing a public house, the Old Whitefield Bar in Govan Road. Both, along with most of the shipping, are long gone.

The history section of this film includes quotations from some great Glaswegian men. John Elder, the shipping magnate, who predicted that ships would go ‘further and faster in greater safety and stability than ever before’. James Watt pontificates on the power of steam and Professor Joseph Lister’s understanding that ‘surgery had to be performed without fear of infection.’ And lastly, missionary David Livingstone’s abhorrence of the slave trade is heard.

Frank Spedding creates some haunting sounds to cue the scenes shot in the Necropolis near the Cathedral. It is achieved by a subtle balance of solo horn and percussion. This leads into images of models of ships and railway engines and a slow-motion return to the fitba’. This culminates in the famous Hampden Roar, when Rangers No.10 player scores a splendid goal. It is the perfection of timing prevalent in both sport and engineering which is claimed to be the dominant characteristic of the Glaswegian’s psyche.  Spedding’s music compliments these scenes with passages for brass, accordion and percussion.

The opening music returns to accompany an exploration of travel away from the city. In quick succession some film of a horsewoman in a lineside field racing one of the then new Blue Trains, the railway observation coach probably on the West Highland Line featuring panoramas of hills mountains and lochs.

Then suddenly the viewer is back with the ‘English’ businessman on board a Clyde Steamer. He is now sober and enthusiastically regaling his friends about the industry and achievement of the Glaswegians. As they walk along the deck, they pass the Taxi Driver who is holding his son by the ship’s rail. He says ‘Did ye hear that son? Aye this Glasgow must be a great place right enough.’

After a few action shots of water skiing on Loch Lomond to the accompaniment of accordion and strings, several youngsters are seen dancing to the ‘latest’ tunes. I am not sure if Spedding wrote this sequence. Nevertheless, it is instructive to see what the ‘cats’ were wearing some 53 years ago. This includes a cowboy hat and shades and a girl with black slacks and a long orange pullover. They are dancing the twist. I used to be able to do that, but now the knees won’t let me!

The film concludes with shots of ships sailing ‘Doon the Water’ to Gourock and the mouth of the Clyde Estuary. Spedding provides some big ‘sea music’ here. The narrator explains that many folk left Glasgow for faraway places. However, he finishes with the words: ‘To the Glaswegian all the Clyde is home…yet it is the Clyde that has carried him to the corners of the earth, the bearer of some unique skill or inspiration.’ And in so doing he ‘has taken the qualities of Glasgow to every continent. But he has taken too, a memory of the rough affections of his birthplace: a memory that rarely dies before the man himself.’

The closing credits feature the Glasgow Police Choir lustily singing, unsurprisingly, ‘Glasgow Belongs to Me.’ In the background are views of the Clyde seen at the bottom of tenemented residential street. The final notes of music form a positive triadic chord. 

The film ‘stars’ Phil McCall as the taxi driver and Wallace (Wally) Campbell as the ‘inebriated Englishman.’ It is interesting to recall that Campbell was born in Glasgow, not ‘furth’ of the Border. The narrator of the film was James Bryden Murdoch, best remembered (perhaps) from the original Doctor Finlay’s Casebook. He is never seen in the film. 

The underlying musical thread of this film is obviously Will Fyffe’s well-known song ‘Glasgow belongs to me’. Canny Scots will know that Will came from Dundee. The score is certainly not a set of variations on this tune, but the melody is presented in several ways. From solo accordion to the full-throated sound of the Glasgow Police Choir during the closing credits. Much original music is used that lacks any sort of deliberate ‘tartanry.’ Spedding’s basic plan seems to have been to contrast the ‘song’ with material that has little to do with the subject or tune but acts as a perfect accompaniment to the screenplay.  The Sinfonia of London was conducted by Muir Mathieson.

Frank Spedding was a Scottish composer and academic. His music has been largely forgotten, despite being of high quality. There seems to be nobody looking after his interest.  In addition to several important concert pieces, Spedding dedicated much effort to writing film scores. These feature several documentaries about Scotland. More about Spedding in subsequent posts.

Finally, in 1967 Glasgow Belongs to Me won a Diploma of Merit at the Melbourne Film Festival.

The entire film, which lasts for about 17 minutes, can be seen on YouTube.