I was listening to the mastered version of Du’s new CD “Dubokobud” (or “Deep Bud” as I like to call it:).  I was completely and totally amazed by it – by the sounds he and his didgeridoos produce, by the sounds Nixsha produces, by the sound that 8 microphones produce, just by the sound, fullstop.  It is an extraordinary feat for a few didges, a couple of men, and 8 microphones.  I sat there, mesmerised, transported to deep forests filled with elves, to tranquil Japanese gardens with Buddhist monks flitting about, to the peaks of mountains and to valleys low.  And then, in one moment, I was transported to a rather astounding place.  And I burst out laughing.  I was transported back to my uni days, to my Traditional Australian Music class.

A long time ago, before some of you were even born, yours truly studied music at UNSW.  I have to admit I was never a brilliant student, far from it.  And the class I was absolutely and totally atrocious at was yes, you guessed it, Traditional Australian Music.  I’ll never forget having to transcribe didgeridoos, percussion instruments and chanting and hated it.  After having given a paper about the topic, I was called into the professor’s office and told something along the lines of “don’t give up your day job!”

I made a promise to myself then and there that I would never, ever have anything to do with traditional Australian music – no wooden sticks, no chanting and definitely no didgeridoos for me.  Ha, ha!  And what happens to me 20 odd years later? – I meet a didge player who makes me fall head over heels in love with the didge.  Who would have thought, huh?

So don’t make promises you can’t keep…actually, no, do make them, and break them if you have to…I’m sure glad I broke mine…


  1. Pamela Mortensen says:

    Great story, Blackmary. It’s funny how didgeridoo can creep into one’s life, eh?

    BlackMary Reply:

    It sure is funny how the didgeridoo can creep into one’s life…but I’m not sure whether Du’s didge crept or stampeded into mine 😉