The Didjeridu (or didgeridoo) is an indigenous Australian instrument
otherwise known as “drone pipe” or “yidaki”.
It is a long (1 to 3 metres) cylindrical piece of wood - usually
eucalyptus branches - from which termites ate out the core.
The instrument is played with continuously vibrating lips, and
requires a constant flow of air. This involves special techniques
to inhale air through the nose and at the same time exhale through
the mouth, with optional simultaneous vocalization. Good players
can play continuously for over 40 minutes! It is difficult to
describe the sound of didjeridu, as it is so unlike any instrument
we are used to. It is percussive, yet much richer than the usual
percussion sound: earthy, reverberating, humming. Sometimes
it is like the buzzing of thousands of bees; sometimes like
hypnotic hollow droning. The instrument is able to produce throbbing
pulses, deep growls and high-pitched shrieks. It has a mystic,
spiritual power, and indeed is used in many Aboriginal ceremonies.
William Barton is recognized as one of the leading didjeridu
players today. Having grown up with a love for both Western
classical and indigenous Australian music, he advocates bringing
the two together but so that neither will lose its essence in
the process. On this disc we hear some of Barton’s compositions
for didjeridu and orchestra, some works of other composers created
with Barton’s instrument in mind, and a few of his improvisations.
Let’s start with the monumental Earth Cry, which
was written by Peter Sculthorpe for the “regular”
orchestra. After he heard William Barton play, he changed the
score to incorporate a significant part for the didjeridu, and
it’s in this guise that the work is now performed. A heavy
brooding introduction is followed by a short and angry monologue
for the didjeridu. The main ostinato of the work then starts
- irate and tormented, with a lot of percussion. The didjeridu’s
part is integrated into the texture. The effect is as if still
the features of a stone statue suddenly started moving with
life. We witness a huge climax, catastrophic in slow motion,
and the didjeridu is heard pleading, dancing and crying. The
last part starts as a doleful threnody, anxious and tragic.
The didjeridu seems to permeate the music with the forces of
Nature at both conscious and subconscious levels. This is a
powerful masterpiece and leaves a deep impression.
Barton’s I dream of sacred … I am my dream
is very beautiful. It speaks of the two cultures: their meeting
and their dialogue. In the first section the soaring wordless
soprano, like a bridge, connects the voice of Western instruments
and the didjeridu. The music is restless, cool and misty. The
voice of Margaret Schindler is straight and a bit hard at times,
but appropriate. The second part is with words, setting the
beautiful poem by Judith Wright about the tree of the heart.
It is more active and fast, as in the Villa-Lobos Bachianas
Brasileiras No.5. The music is sharp and bouncy yet not
dry, the singer’s voice strong and firm. The didjeridu
does not oppose itself to the orchestra but joins in. In the
short final part the soprano is voiceless again. The music is
happy now: a bridge has been built through the dreams of the
two cultures. After a slow introduction, the music becomes fast
and rhythmic, ending in muscular and energetic affirmation.
Peter Sculthorpe, the spiritual father of the contemporary Australian
musical school, is never too far from the indigenous. The Communion
part of his Requiem contains cosmic, magical music, luminous
and tragic at the same time. The didjeridu, as the voice of
the Nature, enters into the veins, as do the bird voices in
Rautavaara’s Cantus Arcticus. The entire Requiem
was MusicWeb International’s Record of the Month
(see review).
Side by side with the standard Latin text we hear an Aboriginal
lullaby (Mumma warruno / murra wathunno) that Sculthorpe
had already used in his Maranoa Lullaby for mezzo and
string quartet: beautifully done by the Brodsky Quartet and
Anne Sophie von Otter on Challenge Classics 72007. The didjeridu’s
voice is friendly and comforting.
Three tracks are solos performed by Barton alone. They demonstrate
his virtuosity, the surprising range of sounds and emotions
that the instrument is capable of producing and expressing.
The first solo starts like a mightily imperative summons, then
the rhythm thickens and we enter a frenzied dance, a kind of
mini-Rite of Spring, with a triumphant ending. The second
solo also has the character of a ritual dance, and is rhythmically
very dense. The didjeridu sings and accompanies itself - I have
no idea how the guy does it! The third solo demonstrates different
sound-effects, such as the high-pitched “bird-talk”.
The music is fiery, yet not without humour, an intense and attractive
piece.
In two didjeridu-and-voice improvisations, William Barton is
joined by his mother Delmae. She jotted down the words while
William was improvising his solos, and then immediately recorded
the vocal part. The first improvisation takes the form of a
declamation. Over the monotonous growling of the didjeridu,
the text glorifies an ancient sacred tree and its role in the
universe: the Tree of life, the Tree of salvation. The musicality
grows out of monotony. In the second improvisation, Delmae Barton
is head crying and wailing. This is not your normal type of
singing and definitely not something you’ll welcome your
guests with. I think I scared many a granny - never on purpose!
- when passing by in a car with windows open and this disc playing.
The didjeridu is very active; together they create a very authentic
feeling of real folk music. This wailing manner of singing is
an acquired taste, but its raw Ur-power is undeniable.
The title-work of the discis an ambitious musical canvas,
created by Barton together with Matthew Hindson. It retells
the events of 1884, when the people of the Kalkadoon tribe (to
which Barton belongs) made a desperate stand against the armed
forces of the European settlers. The first part, Warrior
Spirit I, depicts the bloodshed and the indomitable spirit
of the Kalkadoon people. This music is functional and not pretty
- as is the war itself: it is full of orchestral turmoil and
violent clashes, the terror of the harsh brass and martial determination.
In the philosophical Songman’s Entrance Barton’s
voice sounds hollow and tired, as if passing through the gray
mists of time. Day enters with the sound of electrical guitar.
The music is static and pensive. In the sad Bleached Bones,
“viola and cor anglais represent the survivors wailing
for the loss not only of their people but their entire culture”.
The music is multi-layered and quite cinematic at times, with
evocative sonic effects. In Warrior Spirit II, more anxious
than its first instance, once again remembers the fiery spirit
of Barton’s ancestors. The didjeridu finally makes its
entrance in a long, belligerent cadence. Its song becomes more
grand with the entry of the bass drum. In the last part, Spirit
of Kalkadunga, the full orchestra joins in “as the
two opposing cultures are brought into alignment”. The
ending is grandiose and enthralling, and the didjeridu is beautifully
woven into the dense orchestral fabric. The entire Kalkadungu
work is not easy to digest, so I usually start listening to
this disc from Earth Cry, and leave Kalkadungu
for the end. It is more demanding, and has most angst than beauty.
Australian music emerges as one of the big schools, whose voice
is recognizable and independent. Like every big school it has
many faces, and one of those faces is the link to indigenous
culture. This album contains very diverse music, all enlivened
by the remarkably inexhaustible voice of the didjeridu. If you
have not had contact with this wonderful instrument before,
this disc could mark a major discovery for you. It also serves
as an excellent showcase for the virtuosity of William Barton
and indeed for a lot of great music. Not everything here is
easy listening - especially the title work, or Delmae Barton’s
voice improvisations. Demanding but in the end rewarding.
Oleg Ledeniov
Performance details
Kalkadungu
Sydney Symphony Orchestra/Richard Gill
rec. April 2008, Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House
Earth Cry
The Queensland Orchestra/Michael Christie
rec. September 2003, ABC Ferry Road Studios Brisbane.
I Dream…
Southern Cross Soloists (Margaret Schindler (soprano), Tania
Frazer (oboe), Paul Dean (clarinet), Leesa Dean (bassoon), Peter
Luff (horn), Kevin Power (piano))
February 2009, ABC Ferry Road Studios Brisbane.
Solos
February 2009, ABC Ferry Road Studios Brisbane.
Improvisations
Delmae Barton (vocals)
February 2009, ABC Ferry Road Studios Brisbane.
Requiem
Adelaide Chamber Singers, Adelaide Symphony Orchestra/Arvo Volmer
November 2005, Adelaide Town Hall.
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William Barton (didjeridu) 