Gurrumul Yunupingu @ SydneyOpera House (29/8/11)

Thu 1st Sep, 2011 in Gig Reviews

Gurrumul Yunupingu sung his beautiful, soulful songs to a packed house at Sydney Opera House on Monday night. It did not matter that only a handful of people in the Concert Hall were privileged enough to understand Yunupingu’s native dialect: the stories that filled his songs seemed to imparted a visceral understanding.

Before the multi-instrumentalist took the stage, a near-full capacity audience heard up-and-coming Indigenous singer-songwriter Dewayne Everettsmith, from Tasmania. Everettsmith was pushed by the promoters as a star on the rise and he didn’t let them down. He was supported by a pianist, double bass, guitar and two backing vocalists but it was his voice that filled the hall.

His talent was punctuated by a self-awareness that was evident when he gave the silent audience a brief insight into his upbringing. “I was taken from mum, who had a 20-year addiction to speed, when I was young,” he told the crowd before explaining that he was adopted by “two wonderful people” who cared for and supported him. His mother tried to apologise for abandoning him, the story went, and he stopped her. “It was the best thing that could have happened to me… who knows where I’d be if it hadn’t happened.” And with passion, the young singer began a song he called I Don’t Need A Sorry.

The Concert Hall at the Opera House was filled overwhelmingly with people of Anglo-European backgrounds from middle-to-upper class Australia (just like me). They came with expectant anticipation that Yunupingu’s songs about his Aboriginal culture and identity would uplift them, or, enlighten them to a perspective on life that is missed when working 10-hour days in a modern city.

The 41-year-old Yunupingu – who has been blind since birth – was helped to a seat front and centre of stage, where an acoustic guitar waited for him. Alone on stage, he plucked softly at strings while his voice steadily built towards a soulful rendition of one of his most recognisable songs, Wiyathul from his 2009 album Gurrumul.

The English translation of the song, which can be found on Yunupingu’s website, could be read as a song about longing for home: not a house but a spiritual home. But the indescribable feeling that Yunupingu’s voice stirred was all that was needed to understand what the song was about.

The band joined Yunupingu on stage as applause filled the room at the end of the first song. Yunupingu’s close friend, manager and his spokesman Michael Hohnen on double bass, Francis Diatschenko and Ben Edgar on guitars, Matthew Cunliffe on piano and Tony Floyd on drums provided artful accompaniment for the rest of the set.

Through the next two songs, Djarrimiri and Bapa, Yunupingu looked frail as he sat almost motionless in his chair. It was eerie to feel so captivated by the voice of a man who looked so fragile. Hohnen eventually spoke to the audience, translating a few words from Yunupingu but mostly reinterpreting what he thought the singer might want to say. He said Yunupingu was too shy to talk to the audience and told us that his enigmatic friend sang about identity: his own identity and the identity of his people.

The first song from Yuupingu’s 2011 album Rrakala was Mala Rrakala. It, like all of his songs, is a softly-sung expression of his and his people’s identity. Translated to English, the first verse reads;“We sit, we the Gumatj people/we are the Ganyawu people/sit together, look out beyond the seas, contemplate/look out, tides change, contemplate.”

Several more songs were played to the enchanted, contemplative crowd and Yunupingu moved between guitar and piano. At the start of the set, a sound bite of Indigenous people talking about what Yunupingu meant to them was played. “He’s giving to the world, making a bridge to our culture, our stories, he’s very important” one male voice said. Another said, “He is talking about our dignity, identifying ourselves to the world.”

Yunupingu’s music was beautiful, and that is the only adjective that does it justice: for some it is a bridge between two worlds, two cultures, for others it may just be a chance for guilty consciences to pay respect to a marginalised culture. For Yunupingu, I can only guess, it is somehow deeply connected to everything he is.