Dances of Australian Abo. and Modern Jazzomaniacs do not Differ Widely

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17865, 5 June 1926, Page 17 (Supplement)

Dances of Australian Abo. and Modern Jazzomaniacs do not Differ Widely

Music is just as Noisy, and Lighting Effects are More Original.

“Music-Sticks” and “ Drone Pipes ” Produce Weird, Rhythmical Noises.

(Written for the “Star” by

A. G. Sleeman

ALL you who worship at tlio mystic shrine of the jazz gods, answer this: Is there a a great deal of difference fundamentally between the. eccentric evolutions performed by you and your partners under the coloured lights of some fairy jazz palace and the rhythmic steps of the tribal dancers in the Never-Never country of Australia? Do the tantalising moans of the saxophones. the hilarious blare of trombones and the t rashing of cymbals that contribute to the stimulating music of your modern music-hall differ materially from the raucous congestion of noise and din provided by the perpetual clank-a-clank of “ music sticks.” the weird blasts of the drone-pipes and the monotonous clapping of limb against limb that provides the orchestral accompaniment for the dance <sf the Australian aboriginal ? Tan the dusky black of out-back Queensland cut a more grotesque figure •when copying the hopping of a marsupial, the w'riggiing of a serpent or the strutting of an emu to the accompaniment of the strange orchestra of his people than does young Alfie Nitelife, eighteen and jazz mad, when doing a fox trot, or tango in a fog of tobacco smoke in one of our city cabarets? There is not a great deal of difference. The dance of the Australian aboriginal and the dance of the jazz fiend of 1926 are nearly identical. Both seem ridiculous to the man who does not understand them: both are performed to the accompaniment of music of a type that is not appreciated by all;

both are eccentric and exaggerated; and both are sufficient to give the mail from the country* the “ willies.” Dr Herbert Basedow, in his book, “The Australian Aboriginal” (F. W. Preece and Sons, 30s). has a lot to say about the music and dance of the Australian native. He credits him with an inexhaustible variety of dances, the outcome of tradition and invention. The Australian black lives for his dances. He makes them the media for sensual expression, and has learned to combine an instinctive impulse with movement. He impersonates in his “ steps ” both friend and enemy. He lives the valour of the braves of his tribe, and dies the evil magic of his foes. He endeavours throughout to commune with the spirits

of the dead. He listens to the voices of his mythical demigods, and calls upon his deities to protect him and provide for him. When Peggy Flapper takes the floor with her lean, lank boy friends at the jazz hall, she has no intention of calling upon the gods to vent their wrath on pretty* little Dot Shortfrock over the way* simply* because Dot is more prepossessing and more popular, but if .she is feeling that way*, just watch little Peggy's nose rear itself another two degrees heavenwards should Dot cast a glance in her direction; and watch her head take a sudden turn to the rightabout, a turn calculated to freeze the pretty* Dot to a sundae. That is just how the aborigines do it. No one will dispute—riot even the goutiest old fogey who views jazz from the sour grapes point of view—that there is a charm about jazz for those who like it, and there is a charm about the dances of the Australian native, too. It is a magnetic charm which 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. To reproduce from nature incidents and scenes for the edification of an appreciative audience is the source of great delight to the heart cf the Australian black. He is a born mimic. He likes to copy; but with his own vivid imagination he sees things which people of another race might not see. Consequently* he does not worry* about detail in his work. He is delightfully vague, and as a result it might be complained by those who do not understand them that his dances are pantomimic. Provided that the onlooker has the necessary perception, however, the feelings and emotions by which the dancer is actuated may* be readily grasped by those observing his dances, and whose sympathy he courts. He throws himself into the dance heart and soul. There is no suggestion of mock modestyin anything he does. He strives by every* action to interpret with his body the impulse he has received. His onlydesire is to catch, to imitate and to give expression to his feelings at the moment.

And the orchestra strikes up with its weird medley of crashing sounds, its purrs and its whines, and helps the dancer on his way*. Different tribes. Dr Basedow points out in his book, have different instruments, and among those in use are some gadgets which it appears would perplex the most ingenious of jazz orchestra drummers. Some of the tribes make use of skins which they stretch across their thighs as they sit upon the ground and strike with their hands just as the drummer rolls his sticks at the jazz hall. Shells threaded together and shaken help to contribute to the din, and gum leaves tied in bundles around the ankles or arms of the dancers produce a rustic which is said to be similar to that produced by the wiry* feathers of a romping emu. Some tribes convert their boomerangs into musical instruments when occasion demands. The “ musician ” holds the boomerang at half arm’s length in each hand so that the concave edges are turned towards his body. Then bybringing the instruments near each other with their surfaces parallel, he claps their ends together in quick succession. and by so doing produces rhythmical clanks to suit the step of the particular dance that is being performed at the moment. Then there are the “ music sticks.” Two sticks are required, one being of “ iron wood,” about nine inches in length, and the other the beating stick, a smaller rod of circular section made of light wood. Sub-metallic clanks are produced by the percussion. But just as the saxophone, with its noisy blare, is the predominant note in the jazz orchestra of the dance halls of Christchurch, so is the weird drone of the bamboo trumpet or “ didjeridoo ” the noisy* instrument of the orchestra of the Australian black. It is made of a piece of bamboo from four to five feet long, the septa of which have all been burned out with a fire stick. Blowing into the end, having the smaller diameter with a vibratory moI tion of the lips, the operator at the j same time splutters into the .tube indistinct words which sound more often than not like “ tidjarudu, tidjarudu, tidjaruda.” Not at all unlike the noise made by the saxophonist when he tries to make that laughing noise through his instrument. To give a real jazz palace effect, the native lends colour to his dances by employing hundreds of miniature lights. The pyrotechnical embellishment to his performance is supplied by large beetles which fly in their hundreds around the camp fires at night-time. Prior to the commencement of the dance, a collection of these beetles is made, and short glowing embers are inserted into their anal apertures, and they are then released. While the naked figures of the dancers move to the sway of the “ orchestra,” these little fire-balls, as Dr Basedow calls them, buzz and flit I amongst them, and give an uncanny* effect to the proceedings. ‘ With all this noise, with the fiery' lights of the beetles, with the smoke from the burning fires as a substitute for the more acrid tobacco smoke of the cigarettes and pipes of modern youth, i what could be more like our dance halls ; than a ceremonial dance under the skies of the Never-Never?