MUSIC AND DANCE
Talented mimicry—Association of sound with music—Beating
time to dance and music—Musical instruments—Skin
drums—Rattles—Clanking boomerangs—Music sticks—Bamboo
trumpet—Artificial fireflies—Vocal productions—Inflection
of voice—Rhythm—Corrobborees and boras—Imitative
notes—Crocodile—Emu—Crow—Frog—Wailing women—Jungle fowl—Clever
acting—Kangaroo—Fight—Man-of-war—The hunting gin—Killing the
bandicoot—Slaying the enemy—Envious of chirping insects—The
effects of singing ensemble—Conversation by song.
An aboriginal is a born mimic. Nothing delights him more than to
reproduce from Nature incidences and scenes before an appreciative
and visionary audience. But in the same sense as detail of design in
his drawings or carvings is often deemed unnecessary by his vivid
imagination, so to the outsider his acting might seem tainted with
an air of becoming vagueness which makes it appear pantomimic. Yet,
as a conversationalist, an aboriginal is usually so animated by the
recollections of his experience that he unconsciously becomes a
dramatist, and his narration an epic. Granted the necessary perception,
however, the feelings and emotions which actuate the performer are
readily grasped by those observing his dances, and whose sympathy
he is courting. He lets himself go, without mock-modest constraint,
endeavouring by every action to interpret with his body the impulse he
has received. Lured by the glint of an inspiration, his nearer vision is
blinded, his musculature quivers involuntarily, and his only desire is to
catch, to imitate, and to give expression to his exalted feelings. Held
in a rapture, his feelings transcend anything he ordinarily perceives,
his staid personality has vanished, and all that the inner individual
attempts, or can attempt, is to externalize by his movements those
sensuous, but illusive, impressions his soul is imbibing.
To many the real interpretation of such movement would be impossible;
but the aboriginal lives for his dances, of which he possesses an almost
inexhaustible variety, the outcome of tradition and invention. He has
learned to make his dance a medium of sensual expression, and to combine
an instinctive impulse with movement. By his dancing he impersonates both
friend and enemy, he copies the hopping of a marsupial, or the wriggling
of a serpent, or the strutting of an emu, and he emulates the legendary
practices and sacred ceremonials of his forefathers. In his dances lives
the valour of his warriors, and dies the evil magic of his foes. Through
his dances he endeavours to commune with the spirits of his dead, he
hears the voices of his mythical demigods, and he beseeches his deities
to protect his person and to bless his haunts with an abundance of game.
The magnetical charm about a tribal dance lies in the rhythmic motion
of the performers, in the harmonious way their naked bodies sway to the
accompaniment of crude but effective music, and in the clever association
of sound with motion and silence with rest. The dancers are mute during
their performance, the music being supplied by a band or chorus of either
men or women, or both, who squat near by. A performance without musical
items is practically unknown. The dancers keep their movements and steps
in such remarkably true accord with the vocal and instrumental parts that
it is difficult to dissociate one from another; in addition, the rhythm
for each new dance is usually set by the audience and followed by the
dancers to the instant.
The beating of time is usually done by hand, especially if women are
attending the performance. In most tribes, the person squats on the
ground, holding the thighs together, and strikes the cleft thus produced
with the palm of a hand. More commonly both hands are used together,
with the inner side of one laid over the back of the other, and the
fingers of the lower one placed together in such a way as to form a
concave surface. By this means, loud, explosive sounds are produced.
On Melville and Bathurst Islands, and on the Victoria River, the palms
of both hands are struck against the buttocks, one on either side of
the body, while the person is standing. Along the coast of the Northern
Territory, the natives, as often as not, simply clap the hands in
rhythmic order, or they slap the palms of one or both upon the ground;
occasionally one even notices mothers gently slapping the buttocks of
their babies-in-arms, all under the impulse of a catchy air which is
striking their ears.
A peculiar sort of sound accompaniment is rendered by the women dancers
of the Katherine and Victoria River districts of the Northern Territory.
As each of the dancers hops forwards in a straight line, with her heels
together and her feet turned outwards, she jerks her body in mid-air and
whacks the muscles of her thighs together, an act which produces a loud,
sharp sound. In this way she moves both forwards and backwards, making a
similar noise with every hop, whilst her feet make a track in the sand
which is to represent the female turtle coming on shore to lay its eggs.
In the same districts, as well as on the Daly River, the dancing gins
use skeins of string stretched between the thumbs of their hands, which
they sway to and fro like the bow of a fiddle. Although this manoeuvre
does not produce a sound, it is here mentioned because the movement takes
place in perfect rhythm and in unison with the singing which is going on;
and one is reminded of a modern conductor using his stick.
If we now turn our attention to the consideration of the accompaniment
produced with musical instruments, there is a small choice at our
disposal. We find that certain of the southern tribes, along the River
Murray, made use of skins, which they stretched across their thighs, as
they sat upon the ground, and struck with their hands or a stick like
beating a drum.
In the Kimberley district of Western Australia, the large nuts of the
boabab, when dry, are used after the style of the European toy known
as a baby’s rattle by the children, but curiosity soon leads to the
destruction of the shell, when the pithy matrix and the seeds are eaten.
Occasionally these nuts are introduced into ceremonial dances by the men;
they are then elaborately and beautifully carved as previously referred
to.
In the same district, and in fact all along the north coast, large
convoluted sea-shells with a small pebble inside of them, or even a
number of smaller shells threaded upon a string, serve the same purpose
of noise-making.
Bundles of gum leaves, fresh or dry, tied round the ankles or arms of the
performers, produce a rustle which imitates the noise produced by the
wiry feathers of a romping emu. Most of the tribes adopt this scheme,
especially in connection with sacred festivals and ceremonies having to
do with the emu.
Among the central and northern central tribes, the boomerang is
extensively used as a musical instrument. The operator, taking up a
squatting position, holds a boomerang at half-arm’s length in each hand,
so that the concave edges are turned towards his body. Then by bringing
the instruments near each other, with their surfaces parallel, he claps
their ends together in quick succession, and by so doing produces
rhythmic clanks to suit the step of any dance or the time of any song
(Plate LII).
The Larrekiya, Wogait, Berringin, and other Northern Territory tribes
make use of “music sticks.” Two of such are required. One is of hard
“iron-wood,” about nine inches in length, flatly cylindrical, and bluntly
pointed at one end; the other, which is the beating stick, is simply
a smaller rod, of circular section, made of light mangrove wood. The
former stick is held firmly in the left hand, whilst it is struck by the
latter, not far from its end. The beating stick is held in the right hand
with one end of it pressing either against the third or fifth finger.
The sounds produced by the percussion are ringing, sub-metallic clanks;
and any alteration in the length of the free end of the beating stick
naturally tends to vary their pitch.
The instrument which is capable of producing the loudest, and, at
the same time, most weird sound, when correctly manipulated by an
aboriginal, is the bamboo trumpet, otherwise known as the drone-pipe
or “_didjeridoo_.” This consists of a piece of bamboo, of the stout,
tropical variety, from four to five feet long, the septa of which have
all been burnt out with a fire-stick. The outside surface is decorated
with engraved designs. Drone-pipes are used by all coastal tribes living
between the Gulf of Carpentaria and Cambridge Gulf, and as far inland
as Wave Hill on the Victoria River. Where the bamboo is not available,
the instrument is made out of a long hollow limb of the woolly-butt
eucalyptus; this is the prevailing type in the western portion of
the area mentioned. To serve the requirements of a single night’s
performance, a green stem of a native hybiscus bush might be cut off and
the thick bark removed _in toto_ in the form of a pipe.
When using the “trumpet,” the operator blows into the end having the
smaller diameter, with a vibratory motion of the lips, and at the same
time sputters into the tube indistinct words which frequently sound like
“_tidjarudu, tidjarudu, tidjaruda_” (Plate LIII). The effect, though
rhythmical, is a monotonous, plaintive, and humming sound which is
continued uninterruptedly throughout the proceedings. The native, while
he is blowing into the pipe, continues to breathe normally through his
nostrils, after the same style as one does when using a blow-pipe in the
laboratory. In the stillness of the tropical night the droning noise
can be heard for miles around. The wording of the accompaniment on
the bamboo trumpet during a Larrekiya performance sounds much like the
following refrain: “_Didnodiddo diduadu didnadiddo diduadu ... didnarib_.”
In addition to music and dance, a unique, and certainly most effective,
pyrotechnical embellishment of a nocturnal ceremony is supplied by
the Dieri. Along the Cooper Creek, travellers have occasion to notice
the great number of large beetles which fly towards the camp-fire at
night-time. When a dance is on, a collection of these beetles is made and
short glowing embers inserted into their anal apertures; whereupon they
are released again. As the naked figures of the men are moving to the
sway of song, these little fire-balls buzz and flit in among them, and,
cruel as the invention may seem, greatly add to the weirdness of the din.
The Dieri call these artificial fire-flies “_turapitti_.”
Vocal productions consist of recitals of notes which are frequently
encased in articulations without definite meaning or significance, the
notes alone expressing the sentiment which prompts the song. It is the
combination of these notes which gives rise to the simple melodies, and
the repetition of the melodies in regular sequence makes the song. In
his songs the aboriginal portrays the hate for his foe with vehemence,
the love for his child with affection, the spirit of the chase with
lustfulness, the cunning of his prey with counter-deception, and the
dignity of his forbears with veneration. As the pulsations of his
temperament and passion sway his mind, so his voice rises or falls in
harmony with the flush of joy or the gloom of sorrow.
When singing in chorus, the monotony of a melody is frequently
re-animated by one of the principal singers, who, with a stentorian
inflection of his voice, leads off anew. In this way, the pitch of a
melody is repeatedly altered by one or two of the recognized vocal
experts; but at all times the pitch relations remain in perfect concord
with each other.
[Illustration: _PLATE L_
1. Cave-drawing of camel, north of Musgrave Ranges, central Australia.
2. Cave-drawing of human figure, Glenelg River, north-western
Australia.]
It is considered distinctly artistic to be able to frequently change the
pitch of the voice from a deep bass to a shrill falsetto at will, and
only the most experienced singers attempt it. A new tune is introduced
by one of the older men, and the same person will later infuse new
vitality into it by picking up the strain at different stages by a clever
inflection of the voice, after the style of a rondo.
The rhythm throughout the proceedings remains excellent, but great
variations are met with during the rendering of different items; it is
always in keeping with the dance, if the latter is indulged in, even at
the risk of running away momentarily from the time of the music.
Performances which include dances as well as songs in the way of
entertainment are generally called corrobborees; events of a ceremonial,
ritual, or religious nature are termed “_boras_.”
The notes included in the songs of tribal performances are often
imitative of the voice of Nature, and among them we find allusions to
the calls and cries of birds, animals, reptiles, and mythical creatures.
At the same time, any characteristic actions or attitudes are faithfully
reproduced as special features of the dances.
In the crocodile ceremony of the Cambridge Gulf natives, a number of men
stand in a row, one behind the other, with their arms extended and their
legs asunder, whilst the individual impersonating the crocodile ancestor
wriggles along the ground between their legs. When he comes abreast of
the foremost man, he lies flat on the ground, with his legs and feet held
closely together to imitate the reptile’s tail. To further mimic the
crocodile, he extends his arms sideways, strongly bent at the elbows, and
with the hands flat upon the ground. Retaining this position, he next
elevates his body by straightening his arms, and, when fully erect, opens
his mouth and emits a harsh, booming note resembling that of a crocodile.
In the same district, the great emu man, during his ceremony, walks
within a human circle, his body prone from the hips, with one arm held
forwards to represent the emu’s neck and the hand of the other held over
his stern to indicate the tail. As he walks around bowing his body, after
the fashion of a strutting emu, he eructates deep, guttural noises,
resembling the grunting note of the bird.
How the caw of a crow is embodied in the musical programme of a ceremony
will be apparent from the following episode which was transacted at the
Forrest River. A number of men stood in a ring, and, at a given signal,
lowered their bodies between their knees. They let their heads fall
forwards, and at the same time lifted their arms, which they bent in the
elbow to resemble wings. The latter they moved lithely to and fro after
much the same way as a young bird does when it is being, or wants to
be, fed. At this moment a chant was started in imitation of the crow’s
call: “_A wa, a wa, a weh!_” and was ofttimes repeated. Then they all
hopped around like so many birds in search of food, and two men entered
the ring. Still in the same posture, these two hopped towards each other
and extended their arms until each pair crossed the opposite pair. In
that position they swung their bodies backwards and forwards, whilst
their arms sea-sawed in front of them. Then they re-joined the group, and
all continued the hopping. In the next act, an old man lay flat on his
back, in the centre of the ring, with his arms and legs stretched from
him. He represented a carcase. The “crows” hopped around him and cried:
“_A, a, a, la, la, la-la-la_,” and it sounded very much like the caw of
a crow. This item was repeated. One of the crow men then hopped to the
“dead” man. He lifted one of the arms from the ground, held it up, and
let it go. The limb fell “lifelessly” to the ground. Immediately this
had happened, all performers jumped into an upright position, rushed
towards the man feigning death, and carried him from view. Apart from the
imitation of the crow’s call, no regular song accompanied the act, but
all the onlookers were beating time, to correspond with the hopping, by
slapping their hands against their thighs.
The vocal accompaniment at a ceremony of welcome on Bathurst Island is in
the form of a trill, a rapidly repeated “_i, i, i, i, i ..._,” changing
occasionally to “_hi, hi, hi, hi ..._,” which is very cleverly reproduced
in imitation of the note of the great stone plover.
In the corrobboree of a frog, the Larrekiya sing the following refrain:
“_Iwoggiama wogien woggiamana wogien, immangana jellerrima wogien._
_Imbaka kwuerakwa wogien. Imbelluoluodö wogien._”
Then they pause for a moment, and, continuing immediately, mimic the
croaking by crying:
“_Yi kwa e kwa, yi kwa e kwa!_”
The singing is assisted by an accompaniment on the bamboo trumpet
which sounds like: “_Tip bu, tip bu, tip bu, tip pau-a, tip pau-a, tip
pau-a_.” Music sticks are used by all taking part in the corrobboree, the
percussions being equally timed and of uniform strength.
A little performance, melodramatic in a way, which is very popular with
the Larrekiya and Wogait in the Northern Territory, is designed to scoff
at the wailing of women. It is introduced by the following refrain:
“_Arada kadji mara uda kayan yan; arada kadji mara uda kayan mölle
ulpululu mölle, jangaji karra kanjin mada da nga la ulmin ja jandadbi
karra kun kun mukale la enbulukdi bana mölle mara kanjinmada da buluk di
bölle arada kadji balla._”
Then the wailing begins. With a pathos and sincerity so cleverly feigned
that one might easily be led to believe they are genuine, the men strike
up a lament which is thrilling. Monosyllabic sounds pierce the air,
which terminate with a sob:
“_Lö -e, lö, lö -e, lö -ö, lö -ö la_.”
Then a burst of laughter ends the solemnity; and the refrain is continued
amidst much hilarity:
“_Kanjin mada danö wüdningi juan madji karra kunkul mukana mölle enbuluk
di bana mälle kanjin mada_.”
At the conclusion, a general criticism takes place of the skill displayed
by the different performers in the reproduction of the effeminate sounds.
Throughout the proceedings an accompaniment is played on the bamboo
trumpet sounding like: “_Tib bu, tib bu, tib bu-a_”; whilst a number of
men beat their music sticks in a rhythm represented by one long and three
short taps.
The Bathurst and Melville Islanders are famous for their impressive
ceremonies. At most of them, a group of men stand in a semi-circle and
supply the accompaniment by clapping one or both hands against thigh or
buttock, producing dull, drum-like sounds by the impact; they further
supplement the rhythmic sounds by crying, “_brr, brr, brr_” in unison
with the beating. Any actors who enter the ring in front of these men
frequently ejaculate a sound like a short “_poop_,” and this immediately
solicits a concerted “_iah_” from all taking part.
In their corrobboree of the jungle fowl, an old man rushes into the ring,
bending his arms at the elbow and holding them close against his body,
while he rests his closed fists upon his chest. His attitude resembles
that of a professional runner, although in reality his arms are supposed
to represent the wings of the bird. The man looks about the ground, from
side to side, as though in search of something. Presently he imitates
the familiar call of the bird, with a shrill penetrating voice, which
sounds like “_he-r-r-r-l_.” In answer to this, the chorus surrounding him
spontaneously gives utterance to a number of short, non-articulate noises
which sound like “_brrl, brrl, brrl_,” and are claimed to be the call of
the bird’s mate. From now on the performer intermittently cries “_he_,”
and, every time he does so, the rest of the men respond with a loud
“_yeh_.” Then he throws sand and clouds of dust behind him with his feet,
with the object of imitating the way a jungle fowl throws up earth into
large mounds in which its eggs are deposited.
When the kangaroo ceremony is announced, one or two men jump into the
ring, with their legs slightly bent at the knees. Their arms are held
forward, bent vertically at the elbows, their hands being kept prone
and partly closed. The whole posture is to resemble that of the hopping
marsupial of Australia. In jumping round the space, the actor turns his
head from side to side, face downwards, as though in search of food. When
such is supposed to have been found, his hands may assist to support
his body and the hopping ceases. His legs are then bent strongly in the
knees, so that his body sinks and his buttocks come to rest immediately
above the heels, or, indeed, he may squat entirely upon the ground. He
now holds his hands together and passes them between his thighs to the
ground, from which he scoops a quantity of sand and lifts it to the level
of his mouth. Suddenly dropping the sand, the performer bounds to his
feet and runs round the ring, vigorously stamping his feet and making
a peculiar hissing sound. The act is frequently interrupted by cries
of “_poop_” from the mouths of the saltant men, which are immediately
responded to by the crowd with a boisterous “_iah_.” Then the hopping
re-commences, the actor frequently stopping to scratch his leg with one
of his hands held like a claw. Occasionally he lifts an arm to his mouth
to lick it just like the animal itself does. The pace of the time-beaters
at this stage quickens, and the actor begins to scratch all accessible
parts of his body as if possessed. An unexpected “_poop_,” followed by a
hearty “_iah_,” terminates this part of the performance amid loud shrieks
and applause.
It is not long before two performers again leap into the ring, each
armed with a light reed in his hand, resembling a spear. The above
demonstration is partly recapitulated, being, however, slightly modified
in that one man, at intervals, takes the part of a hunter endeavouring to
drive his spear into the enraged “kangaroo” on the opposite side of the
ring.
The corrobboree of a fight is presented by an imaginary spear duel
between two angry men. They are “armed” with a light reed each, and upon
entering the arena, composed of the time-beating chorus, place themselves
in defiance of each other and cut all sorts of antics. They brandish
their imaginary weapons, roll their eyes, and throw their bodies about
wildly. Then they start running around the ring, slapping their thighs
together, with their heads thrown back and their arms upwards.
As an instance of the clever way in which aborigines mimic special
happenings or striking episodes, and also hand on the records to
subsequent generations, the ship-of-war corrobboree is here briefly
outlined. This is a reproduction of events which happened at Fort Dundas
about a century ago, but the present day natives still enjoy looking
at it and include it among their favourite turns. After the usual
preliminaries, a performer rushes into the ring and stands with one leg
in front of the other and slightly flexed in the knee. Throwing his
head back and looking upwards, he starts a vigorous “hauling action” by
alternately throwing one arm out in the direction he is looking, closing
the fist and making an imaginary pull right down to his loins, while
at the same time the other arm is thrown out and returned in a similar
way. This act is in imitation of the hauling in of a sail on a European
man-of-war, and is rhythmically followed by the time-beaters. Running to
the opposite side of the ring, the same act is repeated. Then the same
hauling motion is continued, but this time pulling from below upwards
towards the body, in a manner suggesting the heaving of an anchor. During
this performance, several sharp and harsh interjections are heard, which
suggest a skit on the orders of the commanding officers; in fact, the
whole ceremony is to be looked upon as a travesty of naval discipline.
During several of the performances described above, the following chant
was heard, in perfect accord with the rhythmic smacks produced by the
hands of the chorus:
“_Tupera monan la jerra_
_Tupera monan la jerra_,”
and
“_Tupatunan tenakomejona_.”
At Fowler’s Bay, the men like no dance so much as one which caricatures
a woman on a collecting excursion. The performer walks from the darkness
of night into the bright glare produced by the camp-fire, with an
exaggerated bend of the knees and a loudly perceptible stamp of the feet.
Over one of his shoulders he carries a collecting bag, and as he moves
forwards and sideways, his eyes are rivetted to the ground in front of
him; he is supposed to be looking for food-stuffs. Suddenly he stops,
stoops, and feigns to be picking up something, which is assigned to the
bag. Then he hurries on and repeats the same performance. Whilst he is
acting thus, the audience, grouped at one side of the fire, is diligently
beating time to his steps by knocking two boomerangs (“_kaili_”) together.
In another act he walks quickly into the light, stops suddenly, and
looks hard at the ground in front of him. Presently he lifts his right
foot, only to immediately bring it back to the ground again with a thud.
Emitting a squeal like that of a dying or wounded bandicoot, he stoops
and makes out he is lifting his prey triumphantly into the air.
Yet another performance portrays the slaying of an enemy. A second actor,
who represents the vanquished foe, is requested to lie in the centre of
the arena, whilst the victor dances around him, wildly flourishing and
swinging his club. Every now and then the ground is bashed with the heavy
weapon as near to the prostrate figure as possible; and after every blow
the fallen warrior is seen to writhe his body between the legs of the
victor as if he were really suffering terrible agony.
An aboriginal often sings to himself for no other purpose than for
his own entertainment, in which occupation he manifests considerable
pleasure, and repeats the tune to his heart’s content, at times almost
to the verge of physical exhaustion. In his endeavour to become a noted
singer amongst his tribespeople, a man at every opportunity stimulates
his ambition. He listens with envy to the tireless chirping of a cricket
and suggests to himself the advantages of acquiring such powers of vocal
endurance (as he imagines them to be). The Larrekiya youths admire the
large _Cicadae_ for similar reasons; and they do not hesitate, upon
occasions, to catch one or two of the winged music-makers and suck their
viscera, hoping thereby to acquire increased musical talent.
When singing ensemble, the musical productions have widely varying
purposes and meanings. The performance might be purely convivial and
entertaining, when a number of refrains are hummed or sung, solo and
collectively, to the combined accompaniment which is rendered by most of
the others present. Any attempt at harmony is wanting. Boisterous music
can always be counted upon at tribal war-dances, when the excited and
infuriated mobs almost lose control of their reason, and by singing to
their ancestral fathers endeavour to bring destruction upon the enemy by
the wildest imprecatory acts.
At initiation ceremonies, the old men, at the time of spilling the
novice’s blood, are no less excited; and the musical items are reduced to
hoarse, rude utterances of a decidedly disquieting flavour. Under these
conditions the soul of a true savage unmasks itself. It speaks in coarse,
disconnected sounds which are hardly recognizable as human, but, at the
moment, none the less in sympathy with his inner feelings.
[Illustration: _PLATE LI_
1. Ochre-drawings of mythic semi-human creatures, Forrest River,
north-western Australia.
2. Sacred “_Utnguringita_” or witchedy grub drawings, Emily Gap,
MacDonnell Ranges.]
On the other hand, the music which is produced at religious ceremonies
is quieter and of a more ding-dong style. The natives present their
sacred chants, which they have inherited from their forefathers, for the
purpose of getting into communion with the spirits surrounding them;
and, although such proceedings may be extremely monotonous, the solemn
colloquy is nevertheless musical.
It is a common practice, for that matter, among the tribes of Australia,
for one individual to carry on conversation with another by singing the
words. When, for instance, it is the intention of the persons engaged
in conversation to make the matter as little noticeable as possible, or
when they want to impart information to each other without attracting the
attention of a third party, they clothe their words in song. And the same
is also done when a third party is to be criticized. Moreover, it is for
exactly similar reasons that all communications which are supposed to be
carried on with superhuman beings are chanted or crooned, in order that
the Evil Spirit’s attention may not be drawn to the fact.