Category Archives: A story to tell…

Stand up for justice with ‘Every Dollar’, a fair trade song.

It takes just over four days for a CEO from the top five companies in the garment sector to earn what an ordinary Bangladeshi woman garment worker earns in her whole lifetime. Source: Oxfam International

When faced with a bargain, it’s tempting to overlook the uncomfortable question of who’s actually picking up the tab if we’re not paying a fair price for what goes into our bag.  Employees at garment factories work six days a week, often for less than USD$1 per hour. Workers are under pressure to meet daily targets and work long days with barely any breaks and their health and safety is not considered a priority by their employers.

In a bid to increase awareness of this exploitation and to address the inherent power we hold as consumers, community singing leaders and musicians, Jessie Vintila, and Emma Royle, wrote a song called ‘Every Dollar’.

The goal of the song is for singers and audience to actually change the way they are shopping, and to be inspired to notice their power and to use that power for good.

In the words of Jessie, “it’s about going ‘wow every time I spend a dollar, I’m communicating something, I’m either communicating, ‘yay’ I want that business to succeed, or I really don’t want that business to succeed… We go along being complicit and supportive of a whole lot of things that, if we stopped to think about, we’d find morally reprehensible.”

Jessie’s community choir, ‘Raise the Roof’ sang Every Dollar at Mullumbimby Music Festival in 2016. Throughout the course of rehearsing and performing the song, many of the singers told Jessie how their experience of learning and singing the words was actually changing the way they shopped and many were switching to fair trade options, where they could.

This is precisely the outcome Jessie and Emma had hoped would happen each time the song is taught, learned, sung and heard. While progress in the bigger picture can feel slow, Every Dollar is a reminder about taking small steps in the right direction and doing what we can as a community to support the liberty and rights of workers in the clothing industry and beyond, whenever we can. The recent announcement by Kmart, Cotton On and Target to ‘strengthen their commitment to a living wage for their clothes makers in response to the Oxfam initiative, ‘What she makes’ is testimony to the effectiveness of this approach. These outcomes are in direct response to action and pressure from shoppers who have had enough of the injustice.

Jessie applauds consumer activism of this nature: “What I love about consumer power is that you don’t have to be fighting; you don’t have to be campaigning, you don’t actually have to be doing anything other than making conscious choices when spending your money. And you know you’re doing something really powerful but it doesn’t give you the burn out feeling that other forms of activism can do over time. It’s completely sustainable at a personal level.”

Jessie and Emma were thorough in their research for the song and the verses about Ranya the seamstress and Abdul the cotton picker from India are both based on real stories and statistics.

Activism runs in Jessie’s blood. She grew up in an environment where accountability and sound ethics were highly valued. “I remember as a child, a friend of my parents’ being all excited about finding a woman down the road in a suburb of Perth who worked in a Vietnamese clothing place and could make t-shirts. At the time I didn’t get why she was so excited about what I thought were these really boring T-shirts!”

Jessie’s now adamant about sourcing fair trade clothing herself and has t shirts for her Raise the Roof choirs and her Sing the Camino* tours made by fair trade manufacturers. This anecdote about T-shirts is a lovely testimony to the outcome of conduct and influence. The repercussions of the choices we make and the effect of the songs we sing ripple out into the world in ways we can never know.  So, in the words penned by Jessie and Emma, lets ‘Stand up for justice, Turn every dollar to good’. (Full song below)

Every Dollar                      Lyrics: Emma Royle & Jessie Vintila
Music from Rarely Herd’s version of Mary Don’t You Weep (Spiritual)

Chorus

Every dollar sends a message
Every dollar plays a hand
For somebody somewhere
Think of the people and the land
Oh, well singin’, if I could
You know that I should, I surely should
Stand up for justice, stand up for justice
Turn every dollar to good

Well Ranya was a seamstress
In a Dhaka factory
Worked fifteen hours seven days of the week
Can’t feed her family

Well Abdul picked the cotton
In the fields of Gujarat
Eight years old, twelve hours a day
Forced out of school to work

Well Wendy clothes her family
From her favourite shops in town
Pays the money never stopping to think
How they keep their prices down

Every dollar sends a message
Every dollar plays a hand
For somebody somewhere
Think of the people and the land
Oh, well singin’, if I could
You know that I should, I surely should
Stand up for justice, stand up for justice
Turn every dollar to good

References:
https://whatshemakes.oxfam.org.au/
https://www.vox.com/2018/2/27/17016704/living-wage-clothing-factories
https://www.oxfam.org/en/even-it/one-pair-shoes-we-make-valued-more-our-whole-months-salary

By Deb Carveth, online editor for Community Music Victoria, with Jessie Vintila. Thank you, Jessie! 

*You can ‘Sing the Camino’ with Jessie Vintila in Brunswick on Saturday, 23 March: 2-5pm! (Hosted by the Brunswick Rogues Choir). Info and bookings: https://www.singthecamino.com/singing-workshops.html

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The story of ‘Lingmarra’ and the CMVic network

**This article and the following story contains references to Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people who have died. It also contains words from the language of Australian Kriol. Permission has been sought and given for its use in this context.

Lingmarra, a beautiful song about coming together was brought to the CMVic network by  Barlang T. E. Lewis*, a Murrungun man, actor, singer and songwriter from Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory, who first learned it as a traditional song from the Dalabon Corroborree, Bongiliny Bongiliny.

Lingmarra is a song which enchants singers and listeners alike and one which Flip Case, a Melbourne based singing leader has taught to singing groups many times:

“It’s a song that feels ethereal and earthy at the same time, there’s something elemental about it, you feel transported by it and my choirs always respond to it really strongly.”

A couple of years ago, Flip was covering a session with Sue Johnson’s Prana Choir and decided to sing the song with them as she’d recently been teaching it to her own choir.

At the end of the session, a woman called Victoria approached Flip and explained how her partner had been involved in the arrangement of the song, working in collaboration with Barlang T. E. Lewis and another singer-songwriter, Melanie Shanahan.

Flip was immediately intrigued.

“I’d actually only really known the song through Melanie and I thought, wow, that’s an important thing to know about”.

It transpired that Victoria’s partner is Stephen Costello who was then Coordinator of the Community Music Forum and later the Executive Officer of Community Music Victoria. Flip set herself a mission: Work with Stephen to capture the story of how the song was arranged as a way to preserve the provenance of Lingmarra for all of the leaders singing and sharing it, in the CMVic network and beyond.

 “It’s important to have as much understanding as we can. We’re always talking about provenance and recognition of a song’s origins and whether we’re allowed to use songs for the general population and whether it’s appropriate to use it.”

As so often happens in life, for one reason and another, the two never quite got around to the task. Then, following the sad news of  Barlang T. E. Lewis’ passing last year, Flip decided it was time: “I thought, Stephen’s the last one to really tell the story of how that song came about”.

Below is a version of Lingmarra overlaid with lyrics by Barlang T. E. Lewis; upon listening to this version, the way he extends it becomes clear. (From this point on, the story becomes a personal recollection, and Barlang T. E. Lewis is referred to as ‘T’.)

Stephen explains, “T added to the traditional song in so many ways. The call to the young people Aair yawodi is his idea and this is Kriol. When the old people sing Lingmarra gumbah they are not sad. They are having fun. T added his story to the song, which is about his search for his brother, but also about travelling through his “church”, the country and communities of southern Arnhem land.”

The version of Lingmarra taught by Melanie and included in the CMVic Songbook, Sing itis the chorus of the song, “part traditional and part T”.

What follows then is an account by Stephen of his part in the arrangement of the song as it was sung by Barlang T E Lewis, written in response to Flip’s quest.

Lingmarra Story, as told by Stephen Costello

“Before Community Music Victoria was incorporated, there was a group called the Community Music Forum and we operated under the auspice of the Community Arts Network (Victoria). In 1990 I was the Coordinator of the ‘Forum and one of the first events we held was called “Everything you wanted to know about Aboriginal Music but were afraid to ask”. (Barlang) T. E. Lewis was our guest speaker. He was well known as an actor (The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith) and as a musician with Lewis and Young (didgeridoo and clarinet) and his own original band, ‘The Anthropologists’.

T was brilliant, honest, charming, compelling and generous with listening to our questions and responding with stories and facts. This was the beginning of our friendship and collaboration.

As I shook T’s hand in appreciation after the ‘Forum, he said “Stephen. Let’s do something really big together.”

I joined The Anthropologists as a guitarist. I travelled to Canberra with T for a Music Council of Australia Conference. In the car T sang the Country as we drove along. In the hotel room we co-wrote This is My Country. A few years later, Community Music Victoria was formed, and then Melanie Shanahan came to town. CMVic backed Melanie to stage The Choral Sea in the Great Hall of National Gallery of Victoria. T and I taught This is My Country to Melanie and Melanie taught and conducted the massed community choirs. This was in the late 1990s.  (It was a bit before the Great Southern Sounds Festival and the Millennium Chorus.)

Community Music Victoria won a grant from the Aboriginal Arts Board of the Australia Council to support T to record his music. T and I played with The Anthropologists and we started to work with classical guitar and didgeridoo. T had bought a new F# didgeridoo (called Bambu or Yidaki in Yolngu country) and we started to harmonise with this.  I asked Melanie Shanahan to work with T on some of his songs in the development and pre-recording stage.

The three of us worked out simple harmonies for three songs. Lingmarra, with the F# Yidaki was one of these. At this stage it was just a chorus with guitar and Yidaki in between. Then T had to go home to southern Arnhem Land to help out during some major flooding around Beswick (Wugularr) and the Roper River. He came back to Melbourne inspired and knowing that he was needed in his community at Beswick (Wugularr). But first we had to get into the studio to record.

I put down the guitar part for Lingmarra, and then T, Mel and I sang the choruses. T said “I can sing over that”. Melanie and I and the sound engineer were treated to an improvised one-take recording where T sang his heart out. The playful calling together, Lingmarra, lingmarra gumbah became instead a deeply heartfelt searching for T’s lost brother. T re-voiced his time travelling around Arnhem Land searching for his left-handed brother (ballajugor). He calls for all the young people (yawadi) to help him, to walk and sing with him calling the spirit (warral) to come and be with him.

This is mostly in the Kriol spoken in this part of the Northern Territory. Thanks to Gloria Lane from Beswick (Wugularr) for her partial translation of the song. Kriol is a new language developed by multilingual Aboriginal people. It uses many English sounds, because English is the language of the colonialists, the pastoralists and the missionaries, but also words and ideas from the old languages of the people drawn to Beswick (Wugularr). These languages are Dalabon, Rembarrnga, Mialli, Ritharngu/Wagaluk, Jingili, Gorindji, Ngalakan, Marra, and Nungulbuyu. Kriol is the meeting place language between all of these and English.

I will keep working with Gloria to get a fuller translation and a deeper understanding. Why is T calling only the young people to help in this search? Is it to show respect to the old people, who we have no right to ask to help? I think so. Does T call his brother “the left-handed one” and not use his name because he suspects he has died and therefore he can’t use his name? Or is it just the game people play in Arnhem Land of not using names because they are more interested in relationships and kinship and skin names? It will be fun to find out.

What we do know is that Melanie taught the chorus of the song in schools and to community choirs all over Australia, and it has become part of our folk tradition with the continued support of Community Music Victoria. That’s the part of the Lingmarra story that I know about.”

-Stephen Costello 

Deep gratitude to both Stephen Costello and Flip Case for bringing this beautiful story into the light and sharing it with the CMVic network.

Deb Carveth, online editor for Community Music Victoria. 

*In recognition of his extraordinary life, the family of  Barlang T. E. Lewis has given permission for the use of his image and voice by the media.

Further links to Lingmarra

Auslan signing for the song “Lingmarra” as part of the VoiceMob project, produced by Yarra Ranges Council.


Further reading:

The Conversation: ‘Explainer: the largest language spoken exclusively in Australia – Kriol’ 
https://theconversation.com/explainer-the-largest-language-spoken-exclusively-in-australia-kriol-56286

Community Music: finding your place, finding your voice

It started with a milestone birthday and an unexpected, life-changing gift: a three-day singing workshop at the Body Voice Centre in Footscray.

This was not something I had ever asked for. Frankly, it was terrifying. Not only singing, but also improvisation and “exploring extended voice.” All that… in front of people… without the comfort of a loud, late-night karaoke backing track, or friends who had checked their dignity at the bar earlier in the evening.

When I look back on this three-day journey from awkwardness to awakening, two moments resonate. Firstly, a bell-strike of wisdom from the teacher, Linda Wise: “Find you place and you will find your voice.” At the time I took this to be a call to first listen to the sonic space – i.e. to tune into your emotional and physical surroundings – before beginning to improvise. I thought, “That’s all well and good, but I was scared to sing anything at all. What if I was out of pitch? What if the sound was ugly or uninteresting or ruined others’ enjoyment of the exercise?…”

As an acutely perceptive and experienced teacher, Linda could see these thoughts causing me to take what she called a “panic breath” – constricting my throat – just as I was about to sing. She could see how my fear of judgment was robbing me of my voice. Linda’s solution was partly physiological – having a colleague press gently down on my larynx while I sang until I could feel how to stop pushing against his fingers. It was also subtly psychological – replacing my fear of being judged with a curious mindset, open to learning and expressing whatever it is that my unique voice can do. This was my first step toward finding my voice.

The second moment was being heartily encouraged to join my local community choir (by the same person who had been pressing down on my larynx just a few hours earlier – CMVic stalwart and singer, improviser, performer extraordinaire John Howard). I knew nothing about group singing or harmony but was keen to try out my newfound instrument.

That summer my world was tipped upside down. My job was made redundant, I gave up on my calling as an academic, my marriage ended, I sold the family home and moved my things into an apartment of my own. Though I had found my voice I had now lost my place. I no longer knew who I was or how to find my way.

In this topsy-turvy state I arrived at Brunswick Rogues choir for Term 1. The friendliest welcome opened onto the most joyful 2 hours of singing, which immediately became the highlight of each week. I gained a new circle of friends and admission to the sublime world harmony singing. 40+ voices resonating together is felt so much more in the body than in the ears; and this provided much needed physical and emotional therapy as I gradually came to once again find my place.

This new place I now know as “community music”, and I take every opportunity to join CMVic camps, workshops and events. I now sing in many groups (from a Junkman’s choir to Madrigals and a band with the wonderful Nicki Johnson).

Group singing, along with the values of CMVic, have become part of who I am and how I find my way.

While I still have much to learn from the very practical wisdom shared by the CMVic elders, I know it is worth the journey, each time I experience the power of the circle in which we can each find our voice and find our place.

By Craig Barrie for Community Music Victoria

 

 

An Amberley awakening

By Matt Phillips

They say that music can rejuvenate the soul, and that was what I was hoping for on Saturday 10th November as I arrived in leafy Amberley for the 2018 CMVic Singing Camp on a beautiful sunny morning.  I had been struggling with my own emotional demons the day before so I was hoping to find my centre; my support again.  Perhaps music could reorganise my brain’s foggy neural connections again into something clearer?

After the standard check-ins for new arrivals (most people had stayed over from the Friday welcome event the previous evening), all attendees gathered in the Banksia Room for an acknowledgement to country, welcomes, warm ups and an innovative “Body Percussion” musical game led by Jane York and Nicki Johnson.  It was a great way to meet some new people and to experience the unnerving sensation of speaking a simple repeated chant while engaging our bodies in a series of percussive movements.  Think of the frustration you get trying to pat the top of your head while rubbing your belly, and you get the idea.  It was fun, fast and quite furious!  Well done Jane and Nicki for waking us up and energising us all into a frenzy!

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After morning tea, we divided into three groups based on our chosen segment and I stayed in the Banksia Room to meet the “Voices of Peace” a vibrant Assyrian singing group who taught us a few songs based on stories and poetic verse from their beautiful ancient culture.  Sarah Mandie facilitated this session with help from Salam Dankha who sings in Voices of Peace.  It was a privilege to hear Salam and other choir members provide personal experiences about how their words and rhythms led to the creation of new songs.  Despite personal hardship, isolation and in some cases social exclusion, the community networks created by the Assyrian women have been an invaluable support mechanism for them, and the Voices of Peace Project has clearly added an extra layer to this community by giving them the means to express their ideas, history and poetry through the medium of music.  The session ended with an impromptu Assyrian dance lesson in a large circle with the Assyrian women teaching us their familiar tongue-cry “lel-lel-lel-lel-lel” sound.  As someone with classical vocal experience, these guys really know how to use their diaphragms well to support their sound!!!

After a lunch break, which was a great way to network and meet some new attendees (I sat down to lunch with some new Assyrian choir friends!), I chose another break out session in the Banksia Room.  This time, it was Laura Brearley facilitating her “Come to the River” session, (see below) with the support of Nicki Johnson and the unexpected input from a new attendee for the day – a respected musician and pillar within the Maori community, Arnold Tihema.  The session was intensely powerful, and encouraged participants to understand and more deeply respect the songs and cultures of first nation people, culminating in a trip to the nearby river (Birrarung) to actually listen and sing to Country.  There were tears, tingles and the quiet, respectful acknowledgement of a beautiful experience shared.

The next afternoon session was back with the full group and the amazingly talented Jessie Vintila taught us to sing an original Massed Song called “Every Dollar” about the importance of fair trade purchases for consumers.  It was fun, informative, challenging and very engaging.  Wait for some amazing video footage from this event!

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Singing Leader Jessie Vintila in action at the CMVic Singing Camp

Following a delicious roast dinner evening meal, Emily Hayes facilitated the launch of the evening Soul Party, which had an Aretha Franklin musical theme.  There were amazing solos as well as ensemble pieces to be heard.  We again had the chance to listen to the amazing voice of Arnold Tihema.  Gee, can that man sing with all of his heart and soul!!!!  Musical instruments were played and impromptu jam sessions entailed around the soul theme.  It was a chance for everyone to unwind, have a drink, collaborate and close off an amazing day.  We all felt uplifted, invigorated, inspired and loved.

Once again, the Amberley music event had delivered – no majorly exceeded – my expectations.  I once again felt good about the world because my sense of local community, through music, had weaved its magic!

Below is a video by Terry Melvin of ‘Come to the River’ a workshop co-facilitated by Laura Brearley, Nicki Johnson and  Arnold Tihema, at the 2018 CMVic Singing Camp

 

 

A tribute to Richard Gill by Heather McLaughlin

In recent days the media has been full of news of the sad loss of Richard Gill – conductor, teacher, composer, and powerful advocate for school and community music. Many will remember him as the somewhat eccentric man with a shock of white hair representing classical music on “Spicks and Specks”.

He passionately believed that every child deserves music, and that SINGING should be the basis of all music experience from an early age.

I have been personally fortunate to be a student, then a teaching colleague, and a friend of Richard Gill since the age of 15, when as a country girl I went to a NSW state music camp and played the violin under his baton in a full symphony orchestra.

At that stage I had never even seen a French horn, or an oboe, and the experience of sitting in the heart of 60 musicians playing Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, in a tent, in the rain, with flutes behind and violas to the side, was an early inspiration. “Cellos, can you SOB a little more?” said Richard Gill. I melted with adolescent musical emotion!

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So many people have an anecdote about Richard Gill.

“He remembered my name when I ran into him, 35 years after I left school.”

“He got me to sing an improvised melody in Solfege over a ground bass in a workshop – and surprisingly, I could do it.”

“At music camp in 1967 he played the piano for an evening Barn Dance in the style of Chopin, then Buddy Holly, then Souza.”

“At a teacher workshop we did one round of saying our names, and he remembered all of the 40!”

“At a choral rehearsal, we sang a 4 part, 20 page Kyrie, and at the end he said ‘Tenors, your E at Bar 68 was a little flat.’ ”

At workshops and conferences for teachers, he made each of us feel that what we were doing was important. “You are the salt of the earth,” he said.

Kim Williams, a close friend of Richard Gill’s for over 5 decades, says: “Richard was a remarkable person – a true citizen of music, warm, generous, passionate, talented, kind, thoughtful and loyal. His legacy is rich and deep – I intend to ensure the essence of it is embraced on a continuing basis.”

Richard Kefford AM, the Chair of the Australian Romantic & Classical Orchestra – which Gill co-founded in 2013, and which has been his deeply-felt passion in recent years – says: “Richard Gill will be remembered as a giant in Australian music, an iconic conductor, teacher and passionate campaigner for music education. His death is a massive loss to Australian music and to the countless colleagues, students, friends and audience members who loved him so much. . . We are truly moved by Richard’s request that the Richard Gill Memorial Fund be established. . .so that we may keep the flame of his remarkable legacy alight.”

Richard Gill was an outspoken promoter of music for every Australian, through music in schools and in the community, as well as in concert halls and opera houses.

He was a passionate supporter of music at every level, equally at home sitting on the floor with 3 year olds, leading a Flash Mob of 500 singers with “When I’m 64”, rehearsing a Mozart opera, or conducting a symphony orchestra in a concert hall.

His inspiration lives on in many of us as we work in music and spread the enthusiasm that he encouraged in many thousands of people of all ages.

Heather McLaughlin
October, 2018

Heather was a Community Music Victoria Board member for 9 years, at the end of a career of teaching music – in primary schools, to young children, and to people of all ages in community sessions. Her special passion has been home made marimbas (Jon Madin style) and in retirement on the NSW mid north coast she can’t resist volunteering  in primary schools and introducing older adults (aged 65-85) to music-making through U3A sessions.

Richard Gill’s TedEx talk on the importance of a child’s music education can be seen  here.

Image of Richard Gill sourced from Arts Review

 

Getting big feminists singing!

By Jane York

On Feb 5th this year I posted in a private feminist group I belong to, the following:

“Random thought for all singers (everyone) in this group: If I was to start a casual Inner North FEMINIST CHOIR, who would be interested? Singing tunes by powerhouse women of pop and indie including Beyonce, Peaches, Meryl Bainbridge.  Like if you would be keen to come along  x”

The idea for a feminist choir had been rattling around in my head for a long time, nurtured through chats with lefty, femmo, artist friends about what our creative responses to this unique cultural moment in history might look like. I made a playlist entitled ‘Feminist Choir’ that may or may not have included the song Bitch by Meredith Brooks. So when I got 12 comments of support under my Facebook post I thought ‘fantastic, great, let’s do this right away…’

Right away turned out to be 5 months, and change. I booked the room, made a poster, created a Facebook event and – for lack of any better ideas – titled it BIG FEMINIST SING!, thinking this would do until I came up with a much more clever and witty title.

I then proceeded to completely overthink what we would sing: What is a feminist? What does a feminist song sound like? Am I even a good enough feminist? What if I forget how to feminist and I am never allowed to feminist again?!!!!

After this initial bout of imposter syndrome, I realised that I needed to focus on what I wanted from a Big Feminist Sing. What I wanted was to express a complex set of conflicting emotions around identity. To do more than argue with strangers on the internet. To make a physical space for catharsis. To express vulnerability, anger, humour; to be fierce, silly and soulful. I wanted to be unapologetically critical of our leaders, cultural values and institutions. I wanted to build community, and I didn’t need to have all the answers!

It was important to me that the Big Feminist Sing workshop was a welcoming and safe space for all non-binary, gender fluid, intersex and trans singers. There is a disturbing amount of discrimination in some pockets of the feminist community and I wanted it to be clear from the outset that everyone is welcome. I have tried to do that by stating explicitly on all our promotion that we are for everybody. I have also been conscious of this when making song choices and lyric changes in songs. Not just choosing songs with lyrics about Woman power and giving pronoun options on lyric sheets. I hope that this has made the space more welcoming and I will continue to listen to feedback around this.

As with my other projects I knew that selecting material would be crucial to the success of the initial workshop. I wanted it to be satisfying and surprising, so the first song in our first session was the children’s song There’s A Hole In My Bucket, which was my dry and humorous way of finding a song that accurately depicted the domestic mental load and the infantilisation of adult men. We then sung a mournful a capella lament on the destruction of Mother Earth by trans singer-songwriter, Anohni, and Radiohead’s Creep, with guitar accompaniment and the lyrics re-written to be about Trump.

Over 40 people showed up to the first workshop and many were not regular choristers or singers. For the second Big Feminist Sing over 80 people came through the door and I was excited and nervous in equal parts. I now had an unruly mob of lefty feminists to wrangle and lead. What did they want or expect? Luckily our venue had a stage and my accompanist had brought a headset mic for me to use so I had physical command of the room. With prior permission, I had arranged Tiddas’ My Sister in two parts and in just under an hour we had something glorious and powerful. The video of that session was shared nearly 4,000 times and, by her own admission, we had Sally Dastey in tears.

We travelled to Docklands Library for the third session, inspired by the big turnout for the previous workshop in Northcote, however I want Big Feminist Sing to be of no fixed address and to move around, allowing different groups of people to take part. Although the turnout for the Docklands workshop was smaller, a third of those who attended did so only because it was held in a central location.

Our fourth workshop was a collaboration with Reclaim the Night were we learnt Mylk’s Quiet, the anthem from the Women’s march. We were then invited to sing it at the conclusion of the RTN event the following week. I made an online resource of the song so that people who couldn’t attend the workshop could still be a part of the evening event and on the night we had around 40 voices leading the crowd in song.

I have a lot of ideas for the future of Big Feminist Sing and am in the process of putting together a committee to help put them into action. The main question in my mind right now is ‘what is our activism’? What will it look, sound and feel like? I look forward to answering these questions and making music with the incredible humans who make up the BFS community.

Jane York
October 2018

The next Big Feminist Sing is on 13 November, 7-9pm at Kindred Studios, 3 Harris St, Yarraville. Click here for info.

About Jane: Jane is a multi skilled musical instigator committed to the community building power of group singing. She is the founder and director of contemporary community choir ‘Just Holler’, musical director of Nillumbik Youth Theatre and producer and musical director of Big Feminist Sing. She has directed choirs and music groups for people aged 10-90 with a focus on mental health recovery and inclusive practice for the disability community.

When she is not waving her hands around Jane is producing community music events including choir jams, a sold-out tribute to 69 Love Songs by The Magnetic Fields, It’s Our Side Project and #Sing4equality.

On rare occasions she can also be seen performing with madrigal group Tierce De Picarde and a capella trio The Northern Belles.

Featured image: Photograph by recalcitrant

 

Rhythms & Beats Drum up Community Connection in Hurstbridge

When Annie Fletcher and her family moved back from WA to Melbourne, Hurstbridge seemed a nice spot at the end of the train line. It wasn’t until they’d been living there a few months that Annie realised the rich arts community they’d been fortunate to move into.

Keen to get into more hand-drumming, Annie decided to hook into the local scene, in particular the regular jamming sessions at St Andrew’s market, which at that time had a weekly drum circle. This lead to a conversation with the local neighbourhood house about starting a beginners group and, fourteen years later as Drum Connection, the beat goes on.

“I wasn’t a particularly experienced drummer at that time but, because I’d been a teacher for many years, I used my teaching skills to work out what I wanted to teach and how and it just grew from there. My intrinsic love of rhythm had also been honed over many years with my passion and tertiary study in Dance.”

Numbers were low to start with, but running the group gave Annie an opportunity to assimilate into the community, “it helped me find my place and it was just so rewarding”.

Participation in the new group continued to grow with spots of natural fluctuation, but the community music experience continued as a weekly dose of positive good fun.

“I always say there are no mistakes in the drumming, there are just variations on a theme and a bit of jamming is fine. People like that and if they struggle with a particular rhythm, they can just play the first beat of each bar or the main beats of the rhythm and when the finishing call comes, they can whack the drum again and finish with the group, so it’s accessible to all.”

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Keeping the beat at a Drum Connection workshop

Annie has found that some drummers just keep coming back while others take time out and return after an extended break. Consequently, a consistent core has developed with several drummers having earned themselves a Drum Connection ‘10 Year badge’!

“Over the years we’ve built up a community which is really very special and the group always welcomes and nurtures whoever walks through that door.”

Drum Connnection participants vary widely in age, ranging from a few older school-aged kids through to seniors. Everyone jollies each other along, learning, nurturing and playing as a collective group. Annie runs two long sessions, one on Thursday evenings and one on Friday afternoons. Within these sessions, levels 1, 2 and 3 are covered in particular time slots, which allows specific groups to learn layers of the shared rhythms at a complexity appropriate to them.

Drummers are offered an opportunity to perform at community events and when this occurs all of the different drum voices are combined within a structure for the whole rhythm, so that the entire group can play as one ensemble.

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Drum Connection’s senior Dun ensemble

Annie also likes to introduce a singing element into her workshops, when simple parts of traditional songs can be taught to accompany an appropriate rhythm. Annie saves this ‘surprise’ until around week 3 by which time anyone new has settled in. “I’ve had people say to me, ‘oh you’ll never get me singing but of course, in time, they all sing!”

Occasionally, people will express concern that they lack enough rhythm to join in, and some people certainly find drumming a bit trickier than they expect to, but Annie has found that when she can assist them to relax, the drumming falls into place more easily. A number of drummers come to Drum Connection as part of a personal recovery process. For people who have suffered some sort of trauma, loss, bereavement, separation, anxiety or illness it can be of assistance when they are at a transition phase in their lives. “Often people will say to me afterwards, “that was just the best thing”.

“Some people find they can actually switch off from the big thing in their life because they are concentrating so hard on drumming, others find they can go into this quite meditative state and those people might have one or two rhythms you can see really working for that person and they totally zone out.”

Annie believes it’s unnecessary to highlight the healing or meditative aspects of drumming for discussion in the context of these community classes, preferring to consider these positive outcomes as an added bonus of the experience of participation and rhythms in a shared music-making context:

“People will discover this for themselves, it doesn’t have to be labelled… it can still be having this effect for many people whilst other people are just enjoying the music or the social aspect. Drumming can be different things to different people and we don’t necessarily need to put a label on any of those.”

Kids have joined in with Drum Connection workshops over the years, usually accompanying a parent although not always: “Anyone over the age of around 10 is welcome. I have occasionally had someone as young as 7 and although it’s an adult class there’s no problem them joining in if it works for them. It can be a nice thing for a parent and child to do.”

This month Annie is starting a series of drumming workshops in Hurstbridge specifically for kids, to gauge interest and uptake. “There are some good music programs in the local primary schools but for any kids who can’t get in or are too young, it could offer a good transition… I’ll give it a go and see!”

Article by Deb Carveth, online editor for Community Music Victoria, with Annie Fletcher 

drum connections


If you would like any more information about these classes or single workshops for specific groups, contact Annie: Mob: 0407 102 578; Email: annie@drumconnection.com.au;  
fb: Drum Connection Aus

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take karaoke to Noongar country and you get … Noongaroke

 

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Noongaroke was far more than a good night out; it was an inspired intervention to support grieving Noongar families.
Mika Hiltunen

Anna Haebich, Curtin University

The following article was co-authored by Jim Morrison, who is a senior Noongar man, a traditional custodian of Western Australia’s pristine southern coast. He has been operating in a range of pivotal roles dealing with Aboriginal advancement for more than three decades.

This is the story of how karaoke, that quintessentially global entertainment, came to Noongar country in Western Australia in the 1990s and was transformed into Noongaroke, a 21st-century version of corroboree events of bygone days.

Noongar people engaging with karaoke created a contemporary process for cultural healing and wellbeing that dealt at a profound level with the anguished politics of death in their community. Leading the charge was the “deadly Noongaroke singing DJ” Jim Morrison.

Jim’s parents, both from the stolen generations, survived to raise their large family whose members are now prominent in Noongar service organisations, politics and the arts in Perth. Jim generously shared his journey in an interview with my partner Darryl Kickett and myself that is quoted extensively here.

Noongar people are the traditional custodians of the south-west region of Western Australia. They bore the full force of settler invasion and colonisation: the deaths, dispossession, loss of land and culture, racism, segregation, removed children, forced assimilation and dire poverty within a rich country.

What survived of their way of life was invisible to most outsiders: the ancient family lineages, connection to country, kinship values and obligations, hidden knowledge and rituals and elements of language.

Today most Noongar people live in city suburbs and country towns. Numbering more than 40,000, they constitute the largest Aboriginal language group in Australia. Many identify as members of a distinct Noongar nation within the Australian settler state. In 2006, Noongar claimants won Australia’s first and only successful native title claim over metropolitan lands.

This was a rude shock for most West Australians, who assumed there was no Noongar culture. In 2013, the West Australian government presented an offer intended to resolve native title claims across Noongar country but one of the negative effects has been to divide the Noongar community and encourage public racism based on fear and ignorance.

What karaoke can do

Karaoke is a form of public singing using the simple technology of a microphone and sound box and a book of lyrics.

Popularised in Japan in the 1970s, it soon spread to South-East Asia and then further to become a global phenomenon. In her 2012 book Karaoke Culture, Dubravka Ugresic uses karaoke metaphorically to denote the “unoriginality” of global culture that is repeated everywhere, endlessly and that encourages bad late-night performances, such as the actor Bill Murray singing More Than This in the 2003 movie Lost in Translation.

In Karaoke: The Global Phenomenon, Zhou Xun and Francesca Tarocco present a contrasting perspective. They describe karaoke as “an interactive global network”, a form of “global traffic” with “no centre or periphery” moving out in all directions. Like a fluid, karaoke takes on different forms as it “rushes and trickles” through.

Local people incorporate karaoke into their cultural traditions and imbue it with their own “cultural-specific meanings and symbolisms”.

That’s exactly what happened when karaoke came to Noongar country.

Noongaroke

Noongaroke was far more than a good night out; it was an inspired intervention to support grieving Noongar families during an unprecedented crisis of deaths in the community during the late 1990s and early 2000s. Noongaroke nights were performances of global culture enmeshed in Noongar ways of being and doing. Noongaroke merged karaoke technology and public singing with Noongar traditions and strategies of survival.

The simple technology fitted neatly into family gatherings to mourn loved ones by providing an attractive way to sing and dance and to restore wellbeing in the manner of earlier corroboree events. It was this combination of the past in the present that powered Noongaroke.

Performance theorist Diana Taylor describes a similar process in Mexican village communities where contemporary performances are structured according to hidden ancient principles and relationships and how performers draw on this embodied knowledge as a repository of strategies for their current struggles and for envisioning new futures.

Jim Morrison started Noongaroke in the late 1990s after years of DJing for Noongar fundraising events and working with street kids in Northbridge, the heart of Perth’s club scene. His first intention was to raise funds for funerals and impoverished families. He recalls that Noongaroke quickly gathered a huge following:

It grew and grew and grew, if you did a head count, you know, thousands and thousands of people have come through Noongaroke. There are people who were just there every night. They just love to sing. It’s always a good atmosphere.

In fact it was a unique atmosphere of pride and enjoyment from being together as Noongar people. Apart from sports carnivals and funerals there were few other community gatherings, although in early days corroborees had been a constant activity. This was due to a lack of resources – land, venues, funds – and an over-zealous police force.

So what was so Noongar about Noongaroke?

We may as well ask what was not Noongar, apart from the equipment and the venues. The singers were all Noongar people and the audience was made up of their extended families. The atmosphere was relaxed, warm and friendly. Noongar colours – red, black and yellow – were everywhere to be seen in flyers, decorations, flags, coloured lights and clothing.

The venues were rooms in hotels in Noongar suburbs that were private and “Noongar comfortable”.

Jim explains:

Sadly we had to use a hotel because we don’t own nothing. Aboriginal people don’t own nothing. We don’t have our own places.

Noongar values of respect replaced the usual impersonal rules for behaviour at karaoke nights. Few people drank alcohol. Jim explains:

there’s a code of conduct based on respect: respect yourself, respect others, respect other people’s property and respect other cultures. And that was the Kanya Code of Conduct, Kanya meaning, shame, behave yourself.

But Jim admits it would have been unusual if there weren’t any problems because:

it’s part of our culture. That’s a culture thing. If we’re going to disagree we’re going to do it publicly so you accept it. But mostly, they’d never bring their fights to a fundraiser.

And there were the unmistakable sounds of Noongar talk – the words, tones of voice and the accents – as families reminisced about the good and sad times and the texture of the singers’ voices and their choices of nostalgic rock and country songs – Johnny B. Goode, Brown-eyed Girl, Neon Moon, Satin Sheets, Seven Spanish Angels – from the Noongaroke Top Ten and a book called Lubbli Songs.

And there were Noongar people dancing – young girls and women in groups and couples skilfully negotiating their way around them. Jim explained:

When you go to a karaoke night, it’s mostly singing. But ours was about singing and dancing … you had to do it – it was a bit of a balance.

Noongar music

Community music-making continued down the generations. In rural areas, families segregated in town camps and the bush made their own entertainment: corroborees with traditional singing and accompaniment and family dances round the campfire with singers, harmonica, piano accordion and guitar.

In the early 1950s, when the policy of assimilation was in force but Perth was still a prohibited area for Noongar people, an Aboriginal political organisation, the Coolbaroo League, held popular dances at the Coolbaroo Club in a hall in East Perth with Noongar musicians like drummer Ron Kickett and singer Gladys Bropho and visiting Afro-American performers.

New song and dance styles spread through the Noongar community at Coolbaroo dances organised in country towns. Noongar rock bands were playing in Perth in the 1970s for youth dances at the Aborigines Advancement Council Hall and in the 1990s at the Kyana festivals on Perth Esplanade. Whenever the opportunity arose, Noongar people joined in to sing and dance.

During the rush of deaths in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Noongaroke helped to clear distressed bodies and minds of sorrow and haunting spirits.

Jim described how DJing and singing at the events raised his sense of wellbeing:

You see, singing is really good for therapy, you know, to really tear yourself inside and sing a good rock and roll song … and with all the people in the room, the temperature goes up.

This link between singing and wellbeing, known intuitively by singers, has been the subject of much research in recent years, demonstrating improved physical and mental fitness and relief from stress, depression and anxiety. Noongaroke performances were special events that we were all privileged to attend. Sitting in the audience we were carried away by the power of the singing to unite us and to evoke memories and emotions.

This is an edited extract from an essay by Anna Haebich and Jim Morrison that appeared in the Griffith Review 46: Cultural Solutions.The Conversation

Anna Haebich, Senior Research Professor, Curtin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

http://theconversation.com