I’ve been in Melbourne for a week now (it's June 8), So I figure it’s time I give a few impressions.
First things first. For those of you in the Northern Hemisphere, we’re fast approaching the Aussie Winter. Don’t be alarmed. It doesn’t in any way resemble Winter in a place like New York or, god forbid, Chicago. The temperature goes down to about 8 C (45 F) each evening and up to around 15 C (60 F) most days – folks here think it’s quite cold and unbearable. The only thing that I’ve found a bit surprising about it is the penchant I seem to have for traveling to places where the sun doesn’t shine. This time of year in Melbourne is noteworthy for it’s overcast skies and rain. And of course it will be the shortest day of the year here in just a couple of weeks. So it’s getting dark by about 5pm. It doesn’t seem quite fair to me considering the long and unusually cool Spring we had in New York.
Melbourne really is quite a wonderful city. Very cosmopolitan, very modern, very international. Easy to get around , clean, architecturally interesting, friendly and civilized (but not too much so, if you know what I mean).
For these first two weeks I’m residing quite comfortably as a “Visiting Academic” at Trinity College at the University of Melbourne. Think Hogwarts in miniature – a nicely appointed enclave of late 19th century stone buildings, with steep roofs wrapped around small gardens and brick paths. The cafeteria is indeed a series of room length tables with a single long table across the raised front for the faculty. Yes – the walls are crowded all around with the portraits of the college’s past Wardens and Chaplains. None have actually spoken to me yet. I’ve been spending my afternoon’s practicing my horn and writing in a lovely stone cottage called Sharwood House – more portraits, cabinets of 19th century china and, more importantly, a grand piano. (I’ve included some pictures)
Despite the distraction of a nasty little throat and ear infection (I've been truly obsessed with trying to get the fluid to drain from my left ear following all of my flights) this week has been all about seeing and meeting local musicians. My first down under performance featured the always surprising extreme instrumentalist Adam Simmons. In this solo show Adam packed in a total of something like 21 instruments including Tibetan meditation balls, motion glow toys, every flavor of sax, most of clarinet, shakuhachi, etc. – my favorite: the Serbian Fujara (pronounced fu-WHA-ra) shepherd’s flute.
I’ve seen two separate programs by the decidedly forward looking Speak Percussion. The first fell neatly into the realm of the experimental, with Warren Burt providing a gently droning electronic underpinning from behind his computer in the corner while the 3 Speak percussionists responded improvisatorially to a series of visual art graphic scores by Catherine Schieve, including a 60 foot, room length canvas called The Blue Line. The instrument selection ranged from a rack of 12 or 14 gongs at one end of the “score” to small melodicas (you know – those toy like recorder/keyboard/harmonica hybrids) to a beach of small stones at the finish, with a broad mix of more or less traditional instruments in the middle. The concert was presented in the Melbourne Recital Center’s “Salon”, which appropriately enough, features part of the early graphic score of Percy Granger, “Free Music No.2” etched in bas-relief around the walls of the hall. To give a proper sense of things – the canvas (literally) for “The Blue Line” was hung, draped really, about 8 or 10 feet above the heads of the performer, who moved through the space from one set of instruments to another, following the path of the score. About 2/3 of the way along the canvas swooped down to the floor. By the end, very close to the rear exit of the Salon, the music knelt to manipulate the stones, which resided directly on the canvas itself. The second Speak Percussion concert I heard was a beautifully programmed homage to American post-modernists (I’m using this term literally here – not as an indication of genre – no need for theoretical nit-picking please), which rightly began with an early Cage piece, touched on conceptual works of Steve Reich and Alvin Lucier, and featured larger works by Elliott Carter and James Tenney.
Finally – in between moderate doses of surprisingly good espresso (thanks in no small part to a large Italian population) and predictably excellent local wines, I’ve been working hard to make sure all of my arrangements for the study and research part of the trip are in good order. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Ok – I’ll catch you up.
Next Sunday I’ll be catching the train up to Canberra - Capital of Australia, planned city, not unlike Washington DC, except that Canberra was built because it seems the moderately prideful residents of Melbourne and Sydney couldn’t agree on any existing city to name as capital. I’m very much looking forward to what should be a gorgeously scenic trip. I’m going to Canberra because it’s home to the national archives of aboriginal audiovisual materials, among other things of less interest to me and very likely of no interest to you.
After 10 days in Canberra, I’ll be making a quick stop in Sydney, then heading to the “top” of Australia for a 2 week field recording expedition in Arnhem Land (the Australian Aboriginal homeland). I’ll include a map in one of my next postings.
For the file of eerily-fortuitous occurrences, last night at dinner (yes at Hogwarts, under the watchful eyes of the wardens, et al) I sat next to Sally Anne. Sally Anne is an aboriginal woman currently attending medical school at Uni Melbourne, as they call it. Of course we got to talking. “Oh you’re going to Arnhem Land? Where abouts?… Ohh, the Northern part? Where abouts? Oh, Katherine, eh? Well I know Katherine.” Sally Anne was born and raised in Katherine where she worked for years as the area nurse. Rather than go into detail, I’ll just say that she’s been a font of useful information and hints about how to prepare for my time up north.
More soon
– stay tuned.
A view through the garden to Sharwood.
Perfectly cozy, don't you think?
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