The Long Road to Flin Flon: A Scottish Piper’s Journey from Bothy Ballads to World Championships

Stevie Connor, Markham, Ontario, Canada. Circa 2011.

Introduction by Megan Routledge

Growing up in Scotland, surrounded by legends of the pipe band world, he learned not just the notes and rhythms of the bagpipe, but the stories, discipline, and traditions that underpin them. From his grandfather’s Bothy Ballads in the Heriot farms to his father’s world championship triumphs with Shotts and Dykehead, Stevie Connor’s early years were a masterclass in dedication, mentorship, and the quiet magic of music passed through generations. What unfolds here is more than memoir — it is a window into the making of a life shaped by sound, legacy, and an unwavering devotion to craft.

Craigmount High School Pipe Band, Edinburgh, 1970's. Stevie Connor, 3rd row from top far left.

My journey with the bagpipes began in the gentle corners of childhood, in the living room of our home in Bathgate. I was around seven or eight years old when my father, Danny Connor, began to leave a practice chanter in strategic places around the house. It was an invitation disguised as a simple object. My father, a world champion with the Shotts and Dykehead Caledonia Pipe Band, had a knack for nurturing talent subtly. The chanter, resting innocuously among the sofa cushions or propped against a chair, was never just a toy — it was an invitation to explore a legacy.

I remember picking it up for the first time, intrigued by its strange, hollow sound. My father would gently suggest that I try the scale, guiding me through the notes with patience and encouragement. From the beginning, it was clear that this was not merely about learning an instrument; it was about connecting with a tradition. His quiet mentorship set the stage for a lifelong passion.

Recognizing my interest, my father enrolled me in classes at Boghall and Bathgate Pipe Band, under Pipe Major Bob Martin, a close family friend. Here, I began to hone my skills with technical precision and artistic nuance. Lessons were rigorous; I learned quickly that playing the pipes required discipline, dedication, and heart.

When our family moved back to Edinburgh, I had to leave Boghall and Bathgate Pipe Band, and the chanter sat idle for a while. The instrument was silenced as I adjusted to new surroundings, yet the seed had been planted. A couple of years later, my father took a hands-on approach, tutoring me personally. Through these lessons, I refined my technique and deepened my understanding of piping, guided by a father who was not only a master performer but also a master teacher.

I soon joined Craigmount High School Pipe Band, participating in the Novice Juvenile band and learning the competitive side of piping. My first solo contest at Bellahouston School in Glasgow, shortly after breaking my leg playing football, saw me earn fourth place under the judgment of Harry McNulty, Pipe Major of the Edinburgh Police Pipe Band. The experience was validation of perseverance and dedication - I would, later in my career, win the Lothian and Borders regional solo piping championship two years in succession, playing for The Lothian and Borders Police Pipe Band, who were formerly known as The Edinburgh City Police pipe Band.

Recognizing my growing skills, my father introduced me to Charles MacLeod Williamson, a family friend and extraordinary piper whose work with the Edinburgh Corporation Transport and personal compositions were highly respected. Weekly trips to Clermiston became master classes — cycling through rain or shine to learn not only technique but the rich history behind each tune. Charlie’s lessons were both technical and storytelling; he shared the origins, emotion, and context of his compositions, including orchestral pieces reflecting profound events like the Aberfan mining disaster.

Charlie MacLeod Williamson.

Charlie’s approach emphasized authenticity: every gracenote and phrase mattered. Tunes like “Granny MacLeod”, composed in his early teens, were simplified in print, and he was adamant they be played as intended. Through his tutelage, I learned discipline, musical integrity, and the emotional depth music could convey. I affectionately referred to him as “my other father”, reflecting the immense influence he had on my development.

In Shotts, nestled in the heart of Scotland, music is more than sound — it is the lifeblood of the town, flowing through the streets and fields like an invisible pulse. For me, those streets formed the canvas of my teenage years, painted with the rich resonance of bagpipes and the rhythmic march of drums. At the centre of that living tapestry stood my father, Danny Connor. He was not just a piper; he was a master of his craft, a custodian of tradition, and a man whose life bridged the art of performance with the precision of creation.

My father’s musical journey was steeped in achievement. He served with the Edinburgh Special Constabulary Pipe Band before moving on to the Edinburgh Transport Pipe Band, where he became Pipe Major at just nineteen — the youngest ever to lead a band to victory in the Grade 2 World Pipe Band Championships. Later, as a leading piper with the Shotts and Dykehead Caledonia Pipe Band, he won four World Pipe Band Championships, cementing his place among the legends of Scottish piping.

But his mastery extended beyond performance. He was a time-served bagpipe maker, trained in the legendary J. & R. Glen Highland Bagpipe Makers workshop on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, under the guidance of Mr. Andrew Ross. The Glen workshop was a place where generations of craftsmen shaped the very voice of Scotland. Spoon bits, turning chisels, and reamers of every size lined the walls beside a mechanized table-top lathe used to bore hollows and shape pipes by hand. For over 150 years, this small Edinburgh workshop was a heartbeat of Highland bagpipe making, until the doors finally closed after a legacy that spanned centuries.

The story began in 1826 when Thomas McBean Glen (1804–1873) founded the business in the Cowgate of Edinburgh’s Old Town. Initially dealing in second-hand instruments, by 1833 Glen had established himself as a pipe and flute maker. His brother Alexander brought the bagpipe-making expertise that would define the company. By 1866, Thomas’s sons John Glen (1833–1904) and Robert Glen (1835–1911) carried on the work, and in 1911 the shop moved to 497 Lawnmarket, a hub of instrument making and collection under the care of the Glens and Mr. Ross. Over the decades, the workshop served not just private customers but military and town bands, and its account books tell stories of instruments moving from the Cowgate to drawing rooms, concert halls, and parade grounds.

J& R Glen, bagpipe makers, The Royal Mile, Edinburgh.

My father’s hands carried this heritage forward, the shop moved to Edinburgh's Royal Mile, where he served his apprenticeship, I remember years later when I was a young boy, visiting the shop, meeting a Bowler hatted old Mr Ross, and his son Andrew who was also an apprentice with my father. Every chanter he shaped, every drone he tuned, was a continuation of a line stretching back to Thomas McBean Glen, through the Royal Mile, into his own life. And yet, our family tradition did not begin with him.

My grandfather Daniel Connor, born and raised in the Borders village of Heriot, Scotland, had worked the farms and carried with him the Bothy Ballads — songs of toil, longing, and camaraderie. He passed them to my father, who sang them with pride, and they, in turn, were passed to me. Music, for us, was memory incarnate, alive in both words and instrument.

The legendary 1970's Shotts and Dykehead Caledonia Pipe Band, My father, Danny Connor, is back row, 2nd from left.

The traditions of Shotts themselves were formidable. I grew up enveloped by legends. Weekly rehearsals of the Shotts and Dykehead Caledonia Pipe Band were my introduction to a world of extraordinary talent and discipline. Names like Tom McAllister, Alex Duthart, Drew Duthart, Bertie Barr, Jim Kilpatrick, Robert Mathieson, Davie and Jim Hutton, Bill Shearer, Arthur Cooke, John Scullion, John Barclay, Bob Leitch, and Donald Thompson were not just names; they were the wizards of melody whose influence shaped the soundscape of Scotland and beyond. My father played alongside them, and in many ways, carrying their legacy forward while adding his own voice to the chorus.

One Hogmanay remains etched in my memory. The Shotts and Dykehead Caledonia Pipe Band, resplendent in regalia, performed on the stage of Motherwell Civic Centre, broadcast live across Scotland. The afterparty was a gathering of musical giants — Peter Morrison, Moira Anderson, The Corries, and Alasdair MacDonald, sharing the room with the band. My father climbed onto a table, singing Bothy Ballads passed down from my grandfather, and the room erupted. In that instant, tradition, family, and contemporary celebration wove together seamlessly, and I understood that I was witnessing a living continuity of Scottish heritage.

The Corries themselves became part of that continuum. I recall, as a teenager in Bathgate, being ushered backstage by Roy Williamson and Ronnie Browne, wide-eyed and collecting autographs from men whose music had become emblematic of Scotland.

In quieter moments at home, I would sit on the staircase, listening as my father sang Bothy Ballads down the phone line, Ronnie and Roy recording them for their own repertoire. Songs like The Wheel of Fortune and The Wedding of Lachie McGraw — once sung by my grandfather in the fields of Heriot — now traveled across time and space, finding life in Scotland’s most celebrated folk duo.

The Corries.

To grow up amid these overlapping worlds of craftsmanship, music, and family was to understand the fragility and the strength of tradition. From the farmed hills of Heriot to the cobbled streets of Edinburgh, from the meticulous shaping of drones in the Glen workshop to the thunder of Shotts and Dykehead’s pipe band, every note, every tool, every ballad carried the echo of generations. Music was inheritance, and my father was its conduit, shaping it with his hands, voice, and heart.

And then came my own passage into his world. When my father left Shotts, I followed, stepping alongside him into the pipes of The Lothian and Borders Police Pipe Band, where we were joined by my younger brother, Euan, a gifted drummer under the tutelage of Bill Shearer, Bryn Butler and then Arthur Cook. Later, my father and I moved together to The City of Glasgow Pipe Band and then to The Scottish Gas Pipe Band. Those years were an unbelievable experience — playing side by side with my father, absorbing his insights, his discipline, and his understanding of what it truly meant to honour the music.

Stevie, Euan and Danny Connor, the Lothian & Borders Police Pipe Band. Circa 1990.

In truth, he had groomed me to step into his world, to understand the craft, the traditions, the pulse of the pipe band community. How lucky was I? To walk that road, to share those stages, to inherit not just skill but a legacy, and to carry it forward in my own life - I later went on to join the legendary Piper Alasdair Gillies in the USA playing for Carnegie Mellon University Pipes and Drums, but, that's another chapter entirely.

The legends of Shotts were not distant figures — they were family, mentors, and neighbours. The Glen workshop, the Bothy Ballads, the Shotts and Dykehead Pipe Band, the Corries — all are part of a living chain, where craft, song, and dedication converge.

My adolescence, framed by these influences, was a symphony of tradition, brilliance, and belonging. The music that shaped my grandfather, my father, and me was not simply Scotland’s heritage. It was our inheritance — one that continues to resonate with every note played, every story told, and every pipe made by hands that remember the generations before.

Looking back on this, The Long Road to Flin Flon, I feel profoundly blessed for the experiences I have lived. Writing these memoirs, revisiting these memories, it hits me how everything I was exposed to in music — from the Bothy Ballads of Heriot to the championships of Shotts, from the Glen workshop to playing alongside legends — was meant to teach, to nurture, and to shape my own skills.

And here I am, having lived a full life, carrying within me the echoes of so many lives before this one. Truly, it is amazing.

The Lothian & Borders Police Pipe Band, Album Artwork from their record Centennial 1890 - 1990. Photo taken at Whitehorse Close, Off The Royal Mile, Edinburgh, Scotland. Stevie Connor, Top far left, Danny Connor, fourth row from bottom, right on steps, Euan Connor, bottom row standing, third from right.

Stevie Connor, a Scottish-born polymath of the music scene, is renowned for his versatility across various domains within the industry. Initially destined for football, Stevie's heart found its true calling in music. His multifaceted journey has seen him excel as a musician, composer, recording artist, journalist, and internet radio pioneer.

In 2012, Stevie laid the foundation for Blues and Roots Radio, an online platform that quickly became a global stage for blues, roots, folk, Americana, and Celtic music. His visionary leadership propelled the platform to international acclaim. Not content with just one venture, Stevie expanded his influence in 2020 by founding The Sound Cafe Magazine, a multilingual platform dedicated to artist interviews, album reviews, and music news.

Stevie's impact extends beyond these platforms. His discerning ear and industry acumen have presented opportunities to be selected as a juror for national awards such as the JUNO Awards, the Canadian Folk Music Awards, and the Maple Blues Awards. Through his tireless efforts, he has earned a solid reputation within the music community, garnering respect from peers and artists alike.

Despite his extensive responsibilities, Stevie remains deeply connected to his roots, both musically and geographically. He continues to contribute to the vibrant tapestry of the music world, ensuring his influence resonates far beyond any single platform. Stevie's enduring passion and commitment to music make him a true luminary in the industry.

Stevie is a verified journalist on the global PR platform, Muck Rack.

muckrack.com/stevie-connor

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