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Introduction

This chapter examines the role of archival recordings as an aid to revive and maintain song and dance practices and connections to ancestry and Country associated with the living performance tradition manyardi in the region of Western Arnhem Land, Australia. Specifically, it addresses the questions: How do performance traditions such as manyardi from Western Arnhem Land materialise ancestral connections in the present? And how do archival recordings of songs inform and sustain the practice of manyardi and composition of new songs?

In 2012, the co-authors of this chapter, musicologist Reuben Brown and songman Solomon Nangamu, travelled to Warruwi, South Goulburn Island, to make a trip with a group of dancers, singers and didjeridu players (see Figure 2.2). The trip arose from discussions Brown and Nangamu held while working together with Bininj at Gunbalanya (south of Warruwi on the mainland in Arnhem Land) and listening to a collection of archival recordings of manyardi, including Nangamu’s Mirrijpu (seagull) songset.1 As Nangamu puts it, “that song I sing, it’s got meaning for all that sacred site around the island – those two islands, south and north”.2 “I follow all that song from my, like my own sacred … thing – sacred site, that’s where I sing. I sing about the sea, about mother nature. The sacred site, the crow that did cut that two islands – split it in half.”3 Nangamu suggested he accompany Brown to his ancestral Country of Goulburn Island, not only to make a recording of manyardi with countrymen there for future generations, but also to show Brown his songs, by going to the sacred site from where the songs emerged and where ancestral spirits reside.

The chapter draws together ideas about the performative power of manyardi. Firstly, through Nangamu’s reflections about how the old people composed songs in order to capture the essence of things that sustain them, such as cockle, oyster and fish. Secondly, through the idea in anthropological and musicological literature that elements of the Dreaming can be conjured up in the here and now. In Western Arnhem Land, legacy song recordings are often used as an aid to revive songs for apprentice songmen, where an established arawirr (didjeridu) player and songman with expert knowledge are present to help guide their performance.4 Brown compares the melodic sequences of the Marrwakara (M: goanna)5 and Mirrijpu (M: seagull) songsets performed by the group in 2012 with legacy recordings made by Ronald Berndt of the same songs performed back in the 1960s by male relatives of the singers, analysing how manyardi is connected to the memory of performance events and particular singers, rather than learned from “authoritative” archival recordings. Nangamu demonstrates knowledge of how manyardi is passed on and sustained, with insights about kinship and song inheritance, song conception, vocal style, song text and the ancestral genesis of his own manyardi. Insights by participants assembled for the performance in 2012 at Amartjitpalk also reveal how performing manyardi at Goulburn Island is undertaken to conjure up connections between people, historical events, and ancestors in the Country, making Arrarrkpi and the Country feel alive and happy.

Memories of connection: The wurakak (M: crow) story

Arrarrkpi (M: Indigenous people) tell a story that has been handed down over many generations of a time before Arrarrkpi (M: humans), when the north and south islands were joined as one. Nangamu led a retelling of this story at Amartjitpalk, by way of explaining how his inherited songset named Mirrijpu (M: seagull)6 came into existence. The mirrijpu was once Arrarrkpi, as were all the other birds that can be found on Goulburn Island. Korroko (K: long ago), during the period of the ancestors, they were spending their time on Weyirra (North Goulburn Island) fishing, when they had unwelcome company in the form of a waak waak/wurakak (K/M: black crow). Here is a version of the story Nangamu recorded prior to our trip:

Nangamu and others in the group including Russell Agalara and Harold Warrabin discussed how Mawng people’s djang (K: sacred sites) are located not only on the islands, but also underneath the sea, where the trunk of a large paperbark tree that once stood on the united Goulburn Island fell, after the crow chopped it down. When the water is calm, a whirlpool forms in between the islands, indicating the presence of the tree still growing at the bottom of the ocean floor:

Linda Barwick observes how the practices of song, dance and visual art that make up Indigenous Australian performance traditions represent “interdependent parts of a complex whole”, which are linked together through one’s ancestral Country.9 Understanding of this interconnectedness stems from the knowledge that individual songs, dances and designs drawn in the sand, painted on rock and on the body, were handed down first by creation spirits that shaped the Country, then carried on by ancestors over thousands of generations. For Arrarrkpi and Indigenous people elsewhere in Australia, the act of performing songs and dances that have been handed down expresses links between people and their ancestral Country. Through our reflection and analysis of the event at Amartjitpalk, we suggest that when Arrarrkpi perform manyardi at specific sites of significance on Goulburn Island, they re-activate their memories and regenerate their spiritual connections to ancestral Country.

The “interdependent parts” that made up this performance include: the memory of those people who passed on the songs to the current-day singers and their traditional Country and languages; the ancestral stories that link the Country and the songs together, and the feelings and associations that were conjured up during the performance. We analyse how two musically distinct songsets – Marrwakara/Mularrik (M: goanna/green frog) and Mirrijpu (M: seagull) – linked through Manangkardi traditional Country and language, were paired together in performance, and how this pairing reflects an awareness of “the complex whole”.

Regenerating ancestral connections by performing manyardi

Nangamu’s explanation as to how it was that his manyardi came about – offered during a discussion over lunch while the group took a break from singing and dancing at Amartjitpalk – suggests that kobah-kohbanj were keeping alive the very things that they treasured and that sustained them by putting them into a song. As Nangamu suggests, “they got that thing” – that inspiration or life-force that has its origins in the Dreaming – and fashioned it in musical form, and then they passed it on so that it could continue to be nurtured. Nangamu alludes to the richness of the manyardi tradition and the many named songsets that have been performed by various songmen over the generations, all of which pay homage to various “living creatures” of Western Arnhem Land. His reference to God as creator reveals the way in which the Methodists’ teachings of Christianity have been incorporated into Arrarrkpi people’s spiritual beliefs and understandings about the Dreaming. 

Nangamu’s insights also resonate with the observations on the performative nature of the Dreaming by scholars such as Ronald Berndt, Fred Myers and William Stanner. Stanner argued that stories from the Dreaming do not provide a literal meaning, nor a definition or truth, but rather a “poetic key to Reality” or a “key of Truth”:11

The Dreaming which shaped the Country that people inhabit, and to which people are linked through their ancestors who had lived on that Country since time immemorial, manifests itself in the here and now in various forms. Living phenomena such as birds (a crow or seagull) and the sea (the appearance of a whirlpool) are interpreted as manifestations of the ongoing presence and power of the Dreaming. Songs, dances and ceremony passed on from ancestral spirits that still dwell in the Country of Western Arnhem Land such as mimih (K: stone Country spirits) or warra ngurrijakurr (M: mangrove-dwelling spirits or “little people”) – are thought to “follow up the Dreaming”, and re-enact its presence.13 Fred Myers argues that it is precisely through the activities performed in the present that gives meaning to the Dreaming, and enables Aboriginal people to “hold” their particular ancestral Country:

Ronald Berndt argues that artists (i.e. songmen such as Nangamu) play a vital role in this interpretation of the Dreaming, as re-activators of the spirits, “reviving the spiritual” through the paintings, songs, dance, carvings etc. that they create.15 Berndt suggests that through metaphoric and symbolic meaning, Western Arnhem Land songs “guide us toward an intellectual appreciation of the world about us”.16 Discussing Marrwakara/Mularrik songs which are the focus of this chapter, he contends that by anthropomorphising natural species in song – investing them with “human characteristics” – Arrarrkpi perceive these animals not just as food, but understand their place within a broader ecology.17

Archival recordings of manyardi

The performance and recording of Marrwakara/Mularrik and Mirrijpu songs by the group at Amartjitpalk with Brown in 2012 followed a historical precedent. For many years, Arrarrkpi songmen have hosted and performed manyardi for other musicologists, linguists and anthropologists from outside their community. Many of the songmen recorded by Colin Simpson with the American-Australian Scientific Expedition to Arnhem Land at Oenpelli/Gunbalanya in 1948 were Arrarrkpi from Goulburn Island.18 In 1961 and 1964, anthropologists Ronald and Catherine Berndt recorded Harold Warrabin’s father – Joseph Gamulgiri (see Table 2.1) – performing songs from the Marrwakara/Mularrik songset with songman John Guwadbu19 “No. 2” at Warruwi. Gamulgiri, who was also the brother of Nangamu’s father,20 was one of many Arrarrkpi who assisted Berndt with his research, from the time of Berndt’s first visit to the island in 1947.21 To complete this intergenerational picture, Phillip Magulnir22 – the brother of John Guwadbu and father of current manyardi didjeridu player Alfred Gawaraidji – also played didjeridu for Guwadbu, Gamulgiri and others during this time.23 As Nangamu explained:

Another songman – Nanguluminy25 – was also recorded singing Marrwakara by Sandra Le Brun Holmes in 1964.

In his 1987 article, Ronald Berndt transcribes the Marrwakara/Mularrik songs he recorded with Gamulgiri and Guwadbu, and sets out a narrative that explains the songs, based on interviews with the singers elicited after the recording.26 In 2006–7, Linda Barwick and Isabel O’Keeffe made a series of recordings of Warrabin and Nangamu singing two Marrwakara/Mularrik songs and Mirrijpusongs at Warruwi, including didjeridu accompaniment by Micky Yalbarr, Alfred Gawaraidji and Nangamu (see Table 2.1).27 Based on discussions with contemporary consultants, Linda Barwick, Isabel O’Keeffe and Ruth Singer examine the “dilemmas of interpretation” in Berndt’s original transcriptions (most of which were remarkably accurate) and his narrative for the Marrwakara/Mularrik songset, and transliterate Berndt’s transcriptions into Mawng orthography.28 In July 2012, some months prior to the recording at Amartjitpalk, Nangamu and Gawaraidji also made a recording with Brown of Warrabin singing at Gunbalanya (2012d in Table 2.1). The presence of Nangamu, Gawaraidji and Brown as recordist (a student of previous recordist Barwick) once again provided the singers with an opportunity to revisit the songs and regenerate their memories of their fathers who taught them the songs when they were growing up.

Manyardi and memory

The performance of manyardi relies on a select group of expert musicians who are familiar with one another’s repertories. Performing engages the collective memory, and part of the joy of performing is allowing the songs to evoke memories of people and Country, including memories of previous occasions when the musicians came together to perform the songs. On both occasions at Gunbalanya and Amartjitpalk in 2012, Nangamu practised the songs with Warrabin first to help him remember the songs. As the songmen were remembering how the tune went, Nangamu announced that he would “change” his voice, to sound like the old men who used to sing the song (Guwadbu No. 2 and Gamulgiri).29 He sang with a soft legato-like quality, imitating Guwadbu’s voice on Berndt’s recording, which features on the cassette Songs of Aboriginal Australia that accompanies an edited volume of the same name.30 Warrabin’s voice, by contrast, has a rougher, more strained timbre, perhaps following the vocal style of his father (“second singer” Gamulgiri).31

In preparation for the performance at Amartjitpalk, Nangamu and Warrabin requested that Brown burn them a copy of Berndt’s recordings of Guwadbu and Gamulgiri singing Marrwakara/Mularrik, so that they could listen to the old people, and refresh their memory of the songs.32 Interestingly, these recordings are by no means identical to contemporary versions performed by Warrabin: the former includes a number of Marrwakara/Mularrik songs that Warrabin no longer sings.33 Warrabin’s current repertory consists of two songs: MK01 – which can be performed on its own – and MK02, which is sometimes joined on (i.e. the didjeridu accompaniment continues uninterrupted) to song MK01 as one song item. While MK01 remains relatively true to the Berndt recording, there are several differences in contemporary versions of MK02, including subtle variations in the melody and the way that the song text (Figure 2.4) is pieced together. The three different recorded versions of MK02 are transcribed in Figure 2.5, Figure 2.6 and Figure 2.7 (listen to SAA-B-06-MK02.mp3, 20061013IB02-05-MK02.mp3 and RB2-20121103-RB_01_03_MK01_MK02.wav).34

Stable and adapted aspects of manyardi

A comparison of recordings of MK02 performed by Guwadbu and Gamulgiri in 1964 with versions performed by Warrabin and Nangamu in 2006 and in 2012 reveals the extent to which aspects of a song are adapted while others remain stable over time, as it is passed on to different songmen (see Table 2.2). While the basic song text and melodic contour remain stable, aspects such as the text configuration, tempo and melody vary, and have been adapted or reinterpreted over time. The main difference between Guwadbu’s and Warrabin’s versions relates to the melodic contour and melodic mode. Whereas Melodic Sequence 1 (MS1) in the 1964 version begins on a flattened 7th degree of the scale, the 2006 and 2012 versions start on a flattened 3rd degree of the scale, followed by an ascending Dorian sequence. The song text is also realised differently in all three versions, in particular Text Phrase B (the vocables: “keko keko, keko keko” – which imitate the sound of the mularrik [M: frog]). In the 1964 version Gamulgiri repeats Text Phrase A three times, followed by two repeats of the vocables (BB) and three repeats in the final version (BBB), sung on the 1st scale degree. In the 2006 version (AAAbA) the vocables are sung to a rising and falling melodic contour – MS4 (based on MS1 in the 1964 version) – and joined with Text Phrase A – MS5 (based on MS3 in the 1964 version). The 2012 version follows the 2006 version, but adds another section of song text A (truncated) at the end (AAabAa). Finally, whereas the 1964 version remains on the 1st degree of the scale during the vocables (B) section, the contemporary versions sing the vocables to a different melodic sequence (MS4) 1-3^b-1-7-5, which also features in song MK01 (see Figure 2.11).

There are a number of possibilities that may explain the above variations: Warrabin’s 2006 and 2012 versions of MK02 may well be based on his understanding of song MK01, which shares the same melodic sequence. It is also possible that the contemporary version of MK02 is based on a version/versions of the song sung by Gamulgiri (rather than Guwadbu) that were not recorded by Berndt. In any event, the variations demonstrate that kun-borrk/manyardi songmen take a creative approach to song identity. In spite of the availability of older recordings in this instance, and their usefulness as an aid to manyardi performance – the song is ultimately held in the memory of the current songman, who inherits it and makes it his own through constant reinterpretation in performance.

Vocal quality and realisation of song text

Returning to Nangamu’s imitation of Guwadbu’s voice in 2012, it appears this was not a one-off, but rather a convention observed of kun-borrk/manyardi and some wangga repertories, to imitate or retain the vocal timbre and style of the songman who composed the songs in the songset.35 This fits with the degree of agency that singers attribute to past songmen, who continue to give them new compositions in their dreams. The imitation of voices ensures that even once the main songman dies, those who were familiar with his voice would still hear the spirit of the songman singing through the current singer/composer.36 At the same time, the more frequently that current songmen sing songs from their repertory, and the more widely they perform their songs, the more they are likely to establish themselves as the “number one” singer of that songset and newly conceived songs, which may deviate slightly in vocal style and timbre or in the realisation of the melody and tempo, compared with previous versions performed by former songmen.

This is the case with the Mirrijpu songset, which was led by Nangamu’s brother, Solomon Ganawa, until 2006 when he passed away, not long after Isabel O’Keeffe and Linda Barwick recorded Ganawa singing at Warruwi. After a period of one year in which the songs were not performed, Nangamu took over as the “number one” songman and has been a prolific performer of the songset, recording Mirrijpu on nine separate occasions, each time performing a variety of songs, including new songs he has since received in his dreams. As a result, Nangamu’s recordings of Mirrijpu and his style of singing are now very well known in Western Arnhem Land, particularly among Bininj/Arrarrkpi living at Gunbalanya and Goulburn Island. Comparing recordings made by Nangamu in 2007 – the first time the songset was performed after the death of Ganawa – with recordings made by Ganawa in 2006, one hears minimal variation in tempo, and a similar realisation of the melody. For recordings of Nangamu made some years later in 2011 and 2012, however, notable differences can be observed in tempi (Nangamu’s preferred tempo is slightly faster),37 melody (Nangamu’s realisation of the melody is more embellished compared with Ganawa’s) and vocal style (while Ganawa slides into the notes, Nangamu pitches the notes more precisely). A comparison of the Mirrijpu nigi “mother song” performed by Ganawa in 2006 (Figure 2.8) with a version performed by Nangamu in 2011 (Figure 2.9) neatly illustrates these differences. Nangamu’s tempo (87 bpm) is faster than Ganawa’s (73 bpm) and there are added notes in Nangamu’s melody (highlighted in box outlines) compared with Ganawa’s. In measure 9, where Ganawa slides from A to F while singing the vocables, Nangamu instead pitches the note F precisely; his realisation of the song text and vocables is also slightly different (“latpa” rather than “latma”; “o” rather than “e”; extra syllable “inyalat” rather than “yalat”, etc.).

The conservatism of melodic contour from one generation to the next accords with observations in the literature about North-East Arnhem Land manikay. Peter Toner, analysing the correlation between melody and social structure and the way in which singers articulate connections to Country through their choice of melody in performance, observes that:

Many kun-borrk/manyardi repertories, such as Mirrijpu, Inyjalarrku and Karrbarda, have been passed down to several male relatives of the same generation. As discussed earlier, certain versions of a song remain associated with previous songmen even after these songmen pass away, particularly the versions that were conceived by those individuals. Figure 2.10 shows inheritance of the Mirrijpu songset across four generations, from Tom Namagarainmag to his sons Michael Nawudba, Solomon Ganawa and Solomon Nangamu, and from Nawudba to his daughter, Mary, to her son, Russell Agalara (thus, inheritance is not strictly patrilineal). Agalara is the “second singer” for the Mirrijpu songset, in the sense that he is still apprenticing Nangamu, but he has already commenced leading the ceremony in Nangamu’s absence. Agalara learned the songs from his mother’s father, Michael Nawudba (Nangamu’s older brother, now deceased), and recalls sitting with Nawudba as a toddler and listening to the songs. This means that although Agalara is younger than Nangamu, he is still familiar with the “old” songs from the repertory that Nawudba used to sing, and his interpretation of those songs is influenced by his memory of Nawudba’s singing style and performance. Agalara and Nangamu call each other mamamh, which is a reciprocal kinship term for one’s mother’s (classificatory) father or mother’s father’s sister and conversely, one’s daughter’s daughter or daughter’s son. (In the kinship system of Western Arnhem Land, one’s father’s brothers are all considered “father”, and one’s mother’s sisters considered “mother”.) Nangamu and Agalara therefore also refer to one another using the English terms “grandson” and “granddad”.

Manyardi and Country

The juxtaposition of Mirrijpu and Marrwakara/Mularrik songs in the performance at Amartjitpalk brought up connections not only with people in living memory (i.e. Gamulgiri, Guwadbu) but also with Country and ancestors. After the group warmed up, Nangamu began blowing a slower-tempo rhythm on the didjeridu and Agalara led the singing of a Mirrijpu song with Warrabin and Yalbarr backing. They repeated the song three times, finding a meeting point with one another’s voices. When this song had finished, Nangamu asked us if we had heard that “sweet sound”, and the other musicians nodded in agreement. It was as though the sound that came out of their mouths, blended with the arawirr (M: didjeridu) and the nganangka (M: clapsticks), was not entirely of their making, but a part of the environment around them, which was also making the music and responding to their performance. Later on, while listening back over the recording, Nangamu commented that he felt “nice and good” to sing, as though a “whole orchestra” were backing him up.39 At another stage of the performance after the men had got up to dance, Yalbarr remarked that the waves had swelled, to which Nangamu responded: “kunak-apa hapi kangmin … (the land/Country is happy …)” and Marrgam added, “eh hapi kangmin (yes it’s happy) – on the right track!”40

After playing the didjeridu for the first Mirrijpu song, Micky Yalbarr pointed across the sea to North Goulburn Island, and told us that the song reminded him of a hunting area where he would go fishing and catch “trevally, skinny fish, any kind”.41 Nangamu then explained that both the Marrwakara and Mirrijpu song texts refer to this place, which belongs to the Country of Manangkardi-speaking people of the Majakurdu clan:

Nangamu explained that Linya is the “short name” for the place name “Parlalinya” – a Dreaming site on Weyirra associated with the lightning ancestral spirit called Namarrkon in Kunwinjku, who today assumes the form of a grasshopper. Place names such as these are significant because they are the same both in the spoken language (of Madjukurdu clan Manangkardi speakers who lived on Weyirra) and the spirit language (originally named by the spirit ancestors). As Nangamu explained to Brown: “we can record it, but the word [in the song] is like spiritual language, from the dead people to us then we pass it to a new generation and it goes on and on”.44

The singers also explained that the Marrwakara/Mularrik songs (MK01 and MK02) “go together” because the goanna Dreaming and the green frog Dreaming are connected by Mularrik Mularrik Creek on Goulburn Island, which runs through the town of Warruwi.45 The pair of songs is contrasting in tempo and rhythmic mode (listen to RB2-20121103-RB_01_03_MK01_MK02.wav, where MK02 begins at 01:10).46 The songs are also contrasting in the way they mix languages: MK01 is in Manangkardi spirit language and has the Manangkardi place name Parlalinya; MK02 is in Mawng and has the song text: “mularrik mularrik, mularrik, mularrik k-i[ny-a]ja-ka” [sung as kinyara], translated as “Frog, she keeps calling out”. (See Figure 2.11.)47

Conclusion

The performance, discussion and insights from manyardi songmen and dancers at Amartjitpalk illustrate that to perform kun-borrk/manyardi is not merely to sing songs, but also to make connections to recent, historical and ancestral events, significant places, previous songmen etc., and to sustain these connections by involving everyone in the performance. Experienced and expert songmen such as Solomon Nangamu play an important role in leading the performance of kun-borrk/manyardi, and yet the success of the performance relies on the equal participation of members of the group, rather than the efforts of any one individual.

Perhaps contrary to expectations, the existence of older recordings of both the Mirrijpu and Marrwakara songsets has not resulted in a homogeneity of vocal or musical style in the performance of these songsets, based around the qualities of one songman. Rather, current songmen look to old recordings to assist their memory of manyardi, and, in the case of Nangamu’s Mirrijpu songset, consciously make new and different versions of the songs that they record in order to leave another permanent record for the next generation. Singers nevertheless recognise the musical authorship of the songs that they have learned from their male relatives. Analysis of the same song item in a songset realised by two different singers reveals both innovation and stable elements such as conservatism of melodic contour, song text and rhythmic mode. The current generation of manyardi songmen pays tribute to previous songmen by juxtaposing recently dream-conceived songs with the songs they have inherited, following the principles the old people taught them relating to song order and tempi, and continuing to teach the didjeridu accompaniment and song-leading to younger performers.

Rather than relying purely on the recording then, manyardi is collectively remembered, re-created and passed on through performance by a group of expert songmen and countrymen. Country also plays an active role in the process of refreshing memories of the old songs and conceiving new ones. Nangamu sums up this relationship with an anecdote about receiving a new song upon returning from his ancestral Country of Goulburn Island to Gunbalanya:

References