PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT
Aboriginal music modules
by Robin Ryan
As music teachers we have all experienced the power of the
arts for crossing cultural barriers. In our efforts to broaden the
content of teaching materials in multicultural music
education, how then should we go about transferring the
growing body of knowledge about Aboriginal music into
practical classroom situations at primary, secondary and
tertiary levels? Many of you will have taught the popular
Maranoa Lullaby and Carra Barra Wirra Canna to your class or
choir, or discussed Yothu Yindi and the fused contemporary
styles which have now emerged as an exciting force on the
Australian popular music scene. But to what extent and by
what means should specific tribal Aboriginal music traditions
be given exposure in class?
Aboriginal people have already given non-Aboriginal
Australia access to so many facets of their culture which are
more often than not appropriated in a haphazard and even
mercenary manner. Consultation with Aboriginal performers
is therefore highly desirable in preference to us isolating their
music and (mis)interpreting secondary sources ourselves.
Better still, we can look for ways to fund local Aboriginal
participation in developing indigenous studies in schools and
tertiary institutes. In Victoria this type of work was pioneered
in the 1970’s by Ralph Nicholls (son of Pastor Sir Douglas
Nicholls), who brought performers from Arnhem Land to
Melbourne to perform in schools.
Written expressions of appreciation from students to visiting
Aboriginal teachers have, in my experience, revealed positive
facets about the concept of Burringilling. This term came into
currency in NSW education during 1993 as a symbol of the
way forward, whereby Koori and non-Koori Australians can
‘walk together.’ The inclusion of indigenous people teaching
about their music traditions gives a richness and authenticity
to our curriculum practice, and shows that we respect their
right to control their own culture. You, as teachers, can then
bring your own specific skills into follow-up lessons. If your
school has only a small budget for music, then kill two birds
with one stone by sharing not only the cost, but your guest
speaker/performer’s time with another subject department.
I found that with the supportive imagination of a visiting
teacher, the study of Aboriginal music traditions could be
linked to any or all of the equally-weighted Victorian
Certificate of Education (VCE) work requirements in Unit 2,
‘Diversity of Music in Australia’ (namely listening, performing,
creative organisation, comparison report and a research
investigation). Before commencing this unit we purchased a
didjeridu and some pairs of matching clapsticks for our
school (these can be obtained from the Australian Music
Centre in Sydney, although we opted to purchase ours
directly from an Aboriginal craftsmen). If you buy an
undecorated instrument, ask your visiting teacher to design a
pattern for art students to apply to it.
A framework for educators
Support your visiting teacher by being prepared to address
any misconceptions which may crop up during your
Aboriginal music module:
• Music in Australia reflects the diversity of music in the
world. Prior to contact, Aboriginal people were not
members of one uniform culture, but comprised
hundreds of ‘language groups’ and practised as many
musical and other artistic and ceremonial traditions.
‘Tradition’ implies everything in the way of customs and
beliefs transmitted from generation to generation; the
traditional songs and dances of the North, South and
Central Desert regions of Australia reflecting the
ecological contrast between them as well as some
diversity in traditional modes of living.
• Aboriginal ‘culture’ is the sum total of learned behaviour
and its products such as yarning, singing, dancing,
painting, making laughter and making tears. ‘Culture
change’ has been part of the basis of all human history
Counterpoint 31
 PROGRAM
and development, but because it was forced on people of
such long-standing conservative traditions the decoding
of learned behaviour caused, and is still causing much
stress. The current expressive culture embodied by
Aboriginal music is a most resilient social phenomenon,
considering the substantial rejection of indigenous people
through time. In studying the various music traditions of
Aboriginal people, then, encourage a more sensitive
awareness of Aboriginal people themselves, noting that
the bi-cultural type of education which so many desire for
their own children is barely supported by the powers that
be.
• A study of non-Western music helps us to discover that
there are other valid ways of constructing music. Indeed
the whole process of education for tribal Aboriginal
people is centred around music, with oral transmission
(rote learning) shaped by visual as well as aural factors.
Children listen to the same stories and musical sounds
over and over again, sometimes joining in as they watch
older people sing, play and dance. A thorough
presentation or revision of the basic elements of music
will enhance your students’ understanding of the strictly
musical differences between Western and non-Western
music.
Timeless traditional tribal talks (TTTTs)
After leaping spectacularly from behind the stage curtain,
Gnarnayarrahe began our module with a TTTT, a profile of
the old culture which he and his partner Ponjydfljydu had
refined at their own tribal Aboriginal dance school in
Melbourne. This set a correct frame of reference from which
students could examine the three major ages in Aboriginal
music history, namely (i) The Age of the Ancestors (ii) The
Age of White Settlement and (iii) The Age of Urban Culture.
An explanation of the meaning of Gnarnayarrahe’s feathers
and dot markings was linked to the close inter-weaving of the
arts in the world view of Aboriginal cosmology (‘the
Dreamtime’ being a term imposed by non-Aboriginal
Australia). In a follow-up lesson my class further grasped the
multi-dimensional nature of Aboriginal artistic ritual through
Cath Ellis’ diagram of interlocking structures of music and
meaning in Southern Aboriginal ceremony (see Grove’s
Dictionary of Music and Musicians, Vol.1: 726). Ellis explains
that inma means music, but not just sound alone:
32 Counterpoint
DEVELOPMENT
At any one point the rhythmic construction might refer to
one segment of the story, design to another, portrayal in
dance to yet another. This diagram is only a suggestion
of the intricacy of overlay of design, song text, melodic
structures and rhythmic patterns in the process of
constant simultaneous cross-reference.
Language is also a vital component of Aboriginal culture, and
Gnarnayarrahe emphasised this by teaching my students
words and phrases in the Indjibundji dialect from the
Hamersley Plateau, WA. He also explained that no person
could reach a position of authority in his clan without an
extensive knowledge of its music. The most knowledgeable
elders (usually those who knew the most songs) were like
professors, all judgements of right and wrong being
preserved in rich song cycles which were strictly and
properly executed. This essential element of music was an
intricate source of personal identity, for no songs virtually
meant no laws. And no maps either! Songs functioned as
territorial landscape markers (i.e. ‘songlines’ or invisible
‘dreaming tracks’ were conceived to be the footprints of the
ancestors) and some contained instructions as to the location
of food and water. Other songs functioned as a type of
‘medicine,’ whereby words were perceived to have the
power to heal.
Didjeridu lessons
Gnarnayarrahe, who learnt didjeridu from King Wally of
Broome, gave individual instruction to my male students, as
well as instruction for all in the various techniques of bilma
(clapsticks) such as flams and the scraping of one stick
against the side of another. During his popular meditation
and relaxation session to didjeridu music, the bodies of
students and teachers were strewn across the lawn and, in an
extraordinary gesture of empathy, pedestrians outside the
school fence prostrated themselves on the footpath. (The
instrument was used in traditional times, incidentally, for
putting babies off to sleep!) Before long a police car came
screaming around the corner. The class jumped up as
Gnarnayarrahe cheekily simulated a loud police siren on his
didjeridu.
Providing that an expert teacher can be found, I see no
reason why a series of didjeridu lessons cannot be offered in
 PROGRAM
a school’s instrumental program in the same way that other
instruments are. After all, it is a unique Australian instrument
which can be fused with both classical and popular music
and virtuoso playing is a challenge. If you are unable to offer
lessons at regular times you will still find that some boys will
take to the didjeridu like ducks to water when your visiting
Aboriginal teacher comes and you can allot these students
practice times during the week. I say ‘boys’ because I respect
the Aboriginal custom that practice be restricted to males
only. This in itself is a subject for lively debate as a virtuoso
female Aboriginal player, who plays a shortened didjeridu,
does operate today in Northern Australia (although women
are well able to manage circular breathing some have been
known to abort babies after attempting to play). You could
discuss this, as well as some of the following points:
Chalk and talk notes
The history of the didjeridu is shrouded in myth, i.e. that
certain spirits used the instrument long before humans knew
how to use it. Some Aborigines believe that the Yolngu
people traded the instrument about 4,000 years ago for fire
sticks (i.e. the ‘spirit of fire’ was traded for the ‘spirit of
music’). However, Alice Moyle (1981) speculates on the basis
of archaeological evidence that the didjeridu is a late cultural
intrusion, i.e. it evolved in the post-estuarine period and
cannot therefore have been in circulation for more than 1,000
years.
Didjeridu is an onomatopoeic word, derived from the sound
of its droning rhythms. It is thought to have been coined in
the early twentieth century in Darwin. Up until this time there
were approximately 40 Aboriginal names for the instrument,
some meaning sound of the deceased or ghost, and a
bamboo trumpet collected on Coburg Peninsula in 1879 was
known as ebroo. Fashioned from a branch hollowed by
termites, the instrument is gouged with a stick or filled with
hot ashes to refine its shape. A mouthpiece of beeswax or
resinous gum is moulded around its bore.
As the traditional accompanying instrument for singing in
Northern Australia it rates as the most important instrument in
a predominantly vocal musical culture. Although
performance styles were highly localised into sub-styles
(Professor Trevor Jones, for instance, researched the complex
playing of Arnhem land practitioners), the didjeridu is now a
DEVELOPMENT
‘pan-Aboriginal’ instrument, pan-Aboriginality dating from
the 1970’s push for Aboriginal political unity.
Performance positions include sitting, standing, moving
amongst dancers and singers whilst lifting the instrument
high or low, and Iying down, in which case the huge tube
(representing the Rainbow Serpent) rests on two low
supports. Gnarnayarrahe often raises his instrument up
proudly towards the sky, and moves it back and forth in a
semi-circle as he blows. The didjeridu is normally supported
by one hand near the proximal end. My observations of
Gnarnayarrahe show that it may also be gripped by both
hands at the midway-point when standing or supported by
one hand only in the cross-legged position). In this case the
player’s other arm rests in a relaxed manner across one knee.
Sound production stems from the megaphone principle plus
the lip vibration principle. Players use the technique of
circular breathing, whereby air is snatched through the nose
whilst sufficient air is stored in the mouth to render an
uninterrupted drone pedal note. At past corroborees the
instrument was often kept in running water to keep the
sound continuous when the breath was sucked in. By
tightening the lips and applying more wind pressure players
produce ‘harmonics’, usually a major 9th or 10th above the
‘drone’ tone. Gnarnayarrahe produces special effects on the
didjeridu, some of which require ventriloquist skills. He
perceives his dingo howls, brolga calls and other imitative
effects as special ‘languages’.
The distal end of the instrument may be placed in a bailer’s
shell, can, box or hole in the ground to increase resonance,
although urban Aborigines use the corner of a room to
produce this microphone effect. To control tempo a stick
may be struck (or a fingernail tapped or flicked) against the
tube. Beginners could try this preparatory exercise, which I
notated whilst Gnarnayarrahe taught my students.
4 « « « « « « « ««« «« « « «
& 4 «ˆ« «ˆ« «˙«> l «ˆ« «ˆ« «˙«> l «ˆ« «ˆ« ««ˆ «ˆ« «ˆ« ˆ«« l «ˆ« «ˆ« «˙«> =”
l=====================
Did gee mo Did gee mo Di di di di di di did gee mo!
Breathe through the nose on ‘mo’. Gradually increase the
tempo until the speed has been doubled.
4 « «« «« «« «« «« « « «« « «« « «
& 4 «ˆ« ˆ« ˆ« ˆ« ˆ« ˆ« l «ˆ« ˆ«« ˆ«« «ˆ« ««ˆ ««ˆ «ˆ« ˆ«« «ˆ« =”
l=====================
Di di di di di di Di di di di di di did gee mo!
Counterpoint 33
 PROGRAM
Classroom corroborees
The word corroboree is a corruption of caribberie, which
meant ‘dance’ in a language once spoken in NSW. Other
language groups, of course, had their own words for the
corroboree. After his popular TTTT, didjeridu and clapstick
lessons at Emmaus College, Gnarnayarrahe taught both
students and teachers the Emu Dance, the Kangaroo Dance
and a social corroboree dance in which the boys and girls
had their own specific steps, the school lawn being an ideal
venue.
Some educators may shy away from the idea of non-
Aboriginal children reproducing a ‘corroboree,’ for fear of
violating Aboriginal tradition. Practical hands-on experience
of a specific traditional corroboree item, introduced by an
Aboriginal teacher, is obviously preferable to a pan-
Aboriginal ‘jump around.’ On the other hand, Eurocentric
prejudices were so entrenched during my own schooling that
I learnt nothing at all of the great age, complexity and
diversity of Aboriginal cultural traditions, and any exposure
would have been welcome in preference to none.
Corroborees, incidentally, are adaptable to any school age
group, and also to the tertiary situation, where discussion of
the contrasts and similarities between corroboree and
Western pantomime or music theatre can be incorporated.
The Alice Moyle kit Music and Dance in Traditional
Aboriginal Culture (books, tapes and video) is by far the most
clear-cut resource for primary teachers to use in follow-up
activities, and is also easily adapted to secondary
requirements. Moyle’s national map of Aboriginal Sound
Instruments (1966), although somewhat outdated, has also
become a touchstone. The Australian Music Centre has a
collection of tapes, mainly from Northern Australia, any of
which are excellent for quizzing your class on specific
characteristics of the music. You should also make the most
of your school didjeridu to accompany corroboree styles
from this area, remembering that instrumental solos were not
a general feature of corroboree.
If you live in SE Australia, as I do, then art sources are the
richest indicator of an indigenous culture which appears to
have possessed the same musical vitality which Northern
Australians have been able to retain. In the wake of research
conducted by Crotty (1990), I would suggest that you show
34 Counterpoint
DEVELOPMENT
your class drawings by William Barak, the last of the Yarra
Yarra clan, and/or Tommy McCrae of the Bangerang clan,
Corawa (d. 1901). Alert your students to Crotty’s observations
that these sources, although they represent artistic reality
rather than reality itself, do convey to us a strong sense of
musical ensemble. The following brief comments on the
traditions of this geographical area may be helpful because it
has been so neglected in Aboriginal music studies.
In the district now known as Melbourne, female and mixed-
dancing were acceptable practices, and the songman and
male dancers made great use of clapsticks. A loud, high-
pitched shout acted as a kind of terminal cadence for dancers
to retreat and regroup. The Kurnai of Gippsland first saw
their dances performed in ‘ghostland.’ Indeed this connection
between music and cosmology underlies the compositional
processes of tribal song throughout Australia. In 1887 the
anthropologist A.W. Howitt (who led the Burke and Wills
rescue expeditions) wrote that the songs of the Woiworung
and the Kurnai were connected with almost every part of
social life, including events, comic songs, pathetic songs, and
chants connected with the practice of magic. He described
the latter class as ‘incantations’ sung with extraordinary
energy. One old Woiworung man was moved to tears as he
sang a melancholy song to Howitt. Myth had it that the
creator figure, Bunjil, ‘rushed down’ into the heart of the
singer. (Some of you may have visited Bunjil’s Cave in the
Grampian/Gariwerd mountains, Victoria). Bunjil appears in
many Aboriginal stories, under different names throughout
Australia.
Animal songs of the area included the dolphin song, the
pelican song, the bat song, the platypus song, the possum
hunting song, and the native bear song (Kurburu’s Song).
The Rev. G.W. Torrance transcribed a couple of chants sung
by Barak after one meeting with him in 1887. These were
characterised by a narrow tonal range which rarely exceeded
the interval of a 3rd, the predominance of minor intervals,
and ‘arrests’ (abrupt endings). Barak accompanied his nasal
baritone voice with hand clapping and the stamping of feet in
irregular pulsing which constantly changed from triple to
duple via ‘a slackening of the time and a curious sliding of
one sound into another.’ Barak’s chants were preceded by a
downward melodic progression which resembled the
‘intonation’ in Gregorian music. Indeed Torrance likened
 PROGRAM
Barak’s monotone songs to the Temple melodies of some of
the most ancient civilised nations, for his musical expressions
were conducive of ‘solemnity, grandeur and mystery.’ As with
Barak’s art, however, these songs were more part of his
memory culture than his living culture.
An excellent kit containing detailed drawings of work tools
and reasonably priced posters can be obtained via ATSIC or
the Victoria Archaeological Survey (9690 5322). Explain to
students that these implements were also employed as sound
tools. For example, two clubs would be knocked together to
set the pulse for songs and chants, and boomerangs were
also often struck together on their thick sides to produce
sharp, incisive rhythms which carried over long distances.
Paintings show this to have been the custom in SE Australia
as well as in other parts of the country, in spite of little
indication on Moyle’s map. Crotty gives evidence that Kurnai
men used a bark pad or bundle on the ground as an effective
sound tool (whereas Moyle only highlighted its distribution in
the Top End), and he also found the triangular shaped
bullroarer of the Kurnai to be unique. Point out to your
students that attempts to categorise the bullroarer as a
musical instrument have been fraught with ethical problems,
because as a sacred object it represents the voice of an
ancestor.
Possum skin rugs made from more than 50 pre-decorated
possum pelts sewn together) were also utilised as drums,
popular musical instruments with women. They were either
stretched across the legs or rolled tight into a mat and beaten
either by open hands or clenched fists. Sometimes shells
were placed inside the rolled skin, so that when it struck they
made a jingling sound. Because yam sticks were gatherers’
tools they were also women-only instruments which were
beaten on the ground. Body percussion (hand clapping, foot
stamping, and thigh slapping) appears to have been common
in SE Australian tradition, enhanced by the rustling of small
branches of decorative leaves and the jingling of rattles,
strings of kangaroo teeth and reed necklaces with embedded
shell fragments. Your students could make use of leaves or
small bell rattles to simulate this soundfield. According to
notes attached to the published version of the campfire song
Jabbin Jabbin (published by Allans, tribal origins not given),
women would sometimes use an infant’s tummy to serve as
an impromptu drum, beaten softly, not fortissimo!’
DEVELOPMENT
The only aerophones used in SE Australia were blown reed
and bone pipes and folded eucalypt leaves. Since the latter
are still played by both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people
today, I suggest that primary teachers obtain a selection of
leaves and challenge children to practise. It would not be
difficult to arrange a mini Golden Gumleaf Award for your
class, along the lines of the annual competition held in
Maryborough, Victoria in October each year, but give
motivated students a couple of weeks to practise in advance!
Suggested reading for class motivation
The painting Corroboree, Goulburn River (1895) by Caroline
le Souef is held in the Museum of Victoria. It represents
dancers just before the final rush in a night meeting between
the Pangarang and Oorilim tribes. It was painted according to
her husband’s detailed description from 1842 which is set out
fully in Sculthorpe 1990: 176. In short, the Pangarang women
formed a compact band with possum rugs rolled up on their
knees. A tall old songman took his place in front of them,
began to beat his sticks and chant a song, which the women
imitated at the top of their voices while keeping the most
perfect time. About forty male dancers then glided on to the
scene, one by one, striking loud, ringing sounds on their
sticks. They first formed into line, two or three deep, and
commenced beating time and quivering their legs. As their
vigour increased they danced towards their leader with wild
shouts, as he retired towards large fires. The dancing then
ceased, and the men rushed into a compact body, stamping
with their right feet until a cloud of smoke arose, when with a
sudden yell, each man threw his arms above his head, and
retired into the gloom, to commence again.
Corroboree as ‘creative organisation’
(i.e. composing, arranging or improvising after a given style).
Corroboree songs were usually short items of a few bars and
a few words repeated over and over. When one set of singers
became tired another set would take over the chant. Adapt
these pointers to suit your available time schedule:
1) Elect a ‘songman’ and some other singers. How many
bars introduction will your songman sing after the stick
overture and will it be monotone? Work out a melodic
range and shape for a syllabic item (gradual descent from
highest to lowest tones would be in order), then
Counterpoint 35
 PROGRAM
introduce some microtonal melismas, glides, and arrests
(sudden stops to sounds). A ‘terraced melody’ is a
continuous descent with slight rises followed by further
descent. If teaching older students discuss the controlled
technique of deep initial breathing followed by slow
emission of breath. Singing on an intake of breath was
necessary in secret songs to maintain the continuous
connection with the supernatural power source!
2) Select your sound tools and plan your ‘beating’ pattern,
which in all cases refers to the ‘accompanying’ beating.
Use one of many videos or cassette kits (now available
from the Australian Music Centre in Sydney, or from
Video Education Australasia) to alert students to ways in
which rhythm is actually expressed in Aboriginal culture.
Isorhythm, for example, is the regular repetition of one
rhythmic pattern throughout a musical item, irrespective
of the melodic content of that item. Syllabic songs from a
large area of Australia use isorhythmic constructions,
some in compound time. Introduce the concept of
‘singles’ (one beat to each crotchet pulse) as opposed to
‘doubles’ (two beats to the pulse), and ask males to beat
their sticks at twice the rate of the lap-slapping females.
Alert your class to other rhythmic features heard on tapes
such as accentuation, ornamentation, syncopation, and
lengthening and shortening of note values and phrase
lengths. You may set up a polyrhythmic relationship or
layered rhythmic effect between your ‘beating’ pattern
and the vocal line! In fact the Kurnai women of Gippsland
commenced their beating in slow time, not all at the same
place or at the same moment but scattered around the
camp, and, as it were, answering each other (Fison and
Howitt 1967:194). Evidence shows that dance was
executed in time with ‘beating’, rather than with the
various rhythms of songs. Those teachers with Kodaly-
based skills will already have equipped your class to
execute the rhythmical aspects of corroboree.
3) What pantomimic gestures will you use to accompany
your rhythmical movements, and in what order will the
various sound components make their entry into and exit
from the performance? Once again, Moyle’s video is the
best resource available, but Orff-trained teachers could
capitalise on their knowledge of ‘elemental’ music, i.e. the
integration of voice, movement and instruments, to
36 Counterpoint
DEVELOPMENT
develop their students’ confidence and skills in this area.
4) Rehearse the corroboree in order to present it in front of
the other ‘clan’ (this could be another class). Moyle
suggests that one group ‘buy’ a corroboree from the
other, bringing gifts in exchange. According to traditional
practice buyers then attempt to perform the corroboree
while the sellers check to see if it is correct. Before the
performance begins ask the songman to take a ‘message
stick’ to the other clan to invite them to attend the
corroboree (message sticks were ‘passports’ as well as
‘letters’ because they were used to cross territorial
boundaries). Mime the gathering of food and firewood
(by women), and the preparation of the fire (clans were
normally divided into two moieties; one would prepare
for the ceremony so that the other could perform it). Why
not combine with another class who could find some
bush foods to eat at your corroboree? The tying of strips
of gum leaves to wrists, waists, knees or ankles will help
to enhance the overall sound effect of the corroboree.
Finally, if your visiting Aboriginal teacher is in agreement,
perform your corroboree at assembly after a short
explanation of its origin and intent. I believe that
Aboriginal performers bond so well with our class ‘clans’
because of the enthusiasm with which they embrace the
arts. The corroboree circle also lends itself to bonding. It
is in a circle, after all, that we need to sit down and listen
to Aboriginal people if the process of Bumngilling is to
move forward. Gnarnayarrahe Waitairie can be accessed
via Koornibah Performing Arts (07) 221 1660. Otherwise
the Aboriginal Advancement League (AAL) or Co-op in
your city or town will normally recommend a suitable
visiting speaker.
References
Moyle, A. M. (1981) ‘The Australian Didjeridu: A Late Musical
Intrusion’, World Archaeology, Vol.12, No.3: 321-331.
Jones, Trevor (1973) ‘The Yiraki (Didjeridu) in N.E. Arnhem
Land: Techniques and Styles’, The Australian Aboriginal
Heritage, R.M. Berndt & E.S. Phillips (eds.), Sydney,
Australian Society for Education through the Arts, in
association with Ure Smith: 269-274.
 PROGRAM DEVELOPMENT

Crotty, J. (1990) Traditional Aboriginal Music in South East

Australia. Historical Perceptions: Contemporary Pitfalls,
paper at Monash University Music Department (presently in
press in New York as Musicological readings of selected
nineteenth-century textual and iconographical
representations of Aboriginal music in Victoria). CONFERENCE
Ellis, C.J. (1980) ‘Aboriginal Music and Dance in Southern
Australia’, The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
1997
Musicians, Vol.l, S. Sadie (ed.), London, Macmillan: 722728.

Fison, L. and Howitt, A.W. (1967) Kamilaroi and Kurnai.

‘3 FLYING FISH’
Oosterhout, N.B., The Netherlands Anthropological
Publications (reprint of 1880 edition). Howitt, A.W. (1887)
passion
‘Notes on the Songs and Songmakers of some Australian imagination
Tribes’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of
Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 16: 327-335.
free mind

Moyle, A. (1966) A Handbook of Field Collections of music, visual arts, drama,

Recorded Music in Australia and Torres Strait, Canberra,
AIAS. dance, media and
graphic communication
Moyle, A. (1991) Music and Dance in Traditional Aboriginal
Culture. Kit with books, cassettes and video (Upper
Primary). Monash University, Faculty of Education.
Saturday 22 February
Sculthorpe, Gay (1990) Guide to Victorian Aboriginal
and Sunday 23 February
Collections in the Museum of Victoria, Museum of Victoria.
Penleigh and Essendon
Torrance, Rev. G.W. (1887) ‘Music of the Australian Grammar School
Aboriginals’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute
of Great Britain and Ireland, Vol. 16: 335-340. Contact
Mary Nalpantidis
Many thanks to Indjibundji Elder Gnarnayarrahe Waitairie for
03) 9336 1855
authorisation to describe his teaching sessions at Emmaus College
Senior School in Burwood, Victoria.

Robin Ryan is presently a Ph.D. research scholar in the

Department of Music, Monash University.

This article first appeared in Australian Music Teacher, Volume 3

Number 6 and Volume 4 Number 1. Reprinted with permission of
the author and the publisher.

Counterpoint 37