Kalkadungu
William BARTON (b.1981) and Matthew HINDSON (b.1968)
Kalkadungu (2008) [23:57]
William BARTON
Didjeridu Solo No.1 [4:54]
Peter SCULTHORPE (b.1929)
Earth Cry (1986, rev.2002) [11:06]
William BARTON and Delmae BARTON (b.1943)
Voice and Didjeridu Improvisation No.1 [4:00]
William BARTON
I Dream of Sacred… I am my Dream (2008) [16:55]
William BARTON
Didjeridu Solo No.2 [2:22]
Peter SCULTHORPE
Communion (from Requiem) (2003/04)[6:44]
William BARTON and Delmae BARTON (b.1943)
Voice and Didjeridu Improvisation No.2 [5:26]
William BARTON
Didjeridu Solo No.3 [2:03]
William Barton (didjeridu)
see end of review for other performance details
rec. 2003-09
Texts provided for I Dream of Sacred… I am my Dream and Communion.
ABC CLASSICS 476 4834 [78:32]
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
Demanding yet rewarding.
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.
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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.