Shelagh McDonald

Updated 2008

The article that appeared in the Scottish Daily Mail Saturday 19th November 2005

By Grace Macaskill.

BACK FROM THE WILDERNESS

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, pictured with her partner Gordon Farquhar, is still recognisable as the elfin-faced folk singer, far left, 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."

This good news also makes the website redundant. I'd like to thank all those who have contributed since 1998. I wish Shelagh well and would like to thank her for the many hours of pleasure I've had and will continue to have listening to those early recordings.

I'd like to thank Jen for sending me the first report on 19th and for typing it all out. The Scottish Daily Mail and Grace for this article. Raymond Duncan and Rosie McIntosh for the article in the The Herald (Glasgow) and Charles Donovan for the article in The Independent.

Who knows we may well have some new recordings in the future.

Geoff Owen

Update. To tidy up a loose end, the three books by Shelagh MacDonald were not by the same Shelagh. That Shelagh was married and lived in Chiswick during the 70's. Her picture is on the inside of the dust jackets.

2008 - Archived version of this web site

From the Internet Archive: a version of the site from 4 September 2004, before McDonald turned up.

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."