Hidden histories: Aboriginal country music

Since handing in my history dissertation I’ve (finally) set my turntables up and have been spending a lot of time rediscovering my music collection. While sorting through jazz, northern soul and hiphop today I came across an old Buddy Williams record.

Williams was one of the first Australian country music performers. Originating in the United States, country music was born out of contradiction - a clash between Europe and Africa with roots in folk, celtic and gospel music.

Known initially as ‘hillbilly music’, Australian performers began to localise American songs in the 1930’s and 1940’s in which hobos became ‘swagmen’ and cowboys became ‘boundary riders’ or ‘ringers’. They also began to write new material and developed the first Australian bush ballads. For rural Australians, this simple and unpretentious music didn’t just talk about their life, it talked like their life.

Artists such as Tex Morton, Buddy Williams and Slim Dusty spent their careers touring rural Australia, and often performed in remote areas, aboriginal settlements and missions. From the beginning, indigenous Australians felt connection to country music - story songs telling tales of land and country, of leaving home and coming back again. The music also had an intangible quality with simple rhythms that could express complex feelings of longing and loss.

In addition, country music was inherently egalitarian. Guitars and harmonicas were portable, easy to play and cheap. In fact, it was common in the early days for performers to make their own instruments. The first time Slim Dusty heard country music he was seven years old – and it was sung by an Aboriginal man playing a homemade guitar.

As I played the record I was reminded of a story told and retold by my grandparents who grew up and lived (as I did) in Mullewa, a small country town in Western Australia's north. In 1966 Buddy Williams visited Mullewa to perform a concert in the Town Hall. It was exciting day for the entire town, including the Yamaji community. The day was tinged with sadness for the Dingo Family, as they were mourning the loss of a family member.

Les Dingo was well known in Mullewa and throughout the Murchison - a handsome Yamaji man with a huge smile and even bigger personality. He had died tragically six months previously as he attempted to cross the Gascoyne River during a flood. Williams had known Les from his buckjumping days, and his regular attendance at his shows. As a gesture of honour he invited Les’s Mother Ulie and his family to attend the concert for free.

The Town Hall was packed to capacity, and during the second half on the concert, Buddy sang a new song;

The Gascoyne river was in flood.
It was running wild and wide
Carnarvon town was cut right off.
And was short of food supply.

The mailman couldn’t get to town
Cause the Gascoyne was too high
So he left the mail for Carnarvon folks.
On the bank of the river side.

A coloured man with heart so brave
Volunteered to get the mail
He swam the raging rivers wild
Les Dingo was his name.

Les Dingo was his name
Les Dingo he died game
A coloured man with a great big smile
Les Dingo was his name.

Upon hearing the words, Ulie rose from her seat and walked slowly to the front of the stage where she stood with tears running down her face. Buddy, his band, and many of those in the audience cried too. It was an extraordinary shared moment in a town divided. During a time in which Australia’s indigenous population were marginalised within society, Mullewa’s Yamaji community was placed centre stage.

This story is not uncommon; before anything else, country music gave aboriginal people a voice in Australia.

My next post will explore some stunning contributions of Aboriginal musicians to jazz, rock & roll and country music in postwar Australia... and reveal a lost classic album of black protest music that every Australian should hear.

How to come up with a good idea.

Writing a dissertation is a strange process - most of all due to the incredible amount of information consumed in the process. Piles of books and hundreds of journal articles. Some baffling, several almost unreadable, others compelling (and more than a few enviously original). How to make sense of it all? Connecting the dots can be an arduous process and at the moment the search for good ideas seems to involve a lot of writing and a good deal of time staring into space. Waiting for inspiration can feel daunting however the history of ideas reveals fascinating insights into the vastly different ways societies have approached the creative process.

Elizabeth Gilbert’s 2009 lecture on the history of creativity has got to be one of my favorite TED talks. She notes that the concept of a 'genius' today is completely different from in the past. In ancient Greece and Rome people did not believe creativity came from human beings, rather that inspiration originated from a divine spirit and was channeled by the artist (the Romans called this guiding spirit the 'genius'). The Renaissance changed everything. Rational humanism knocked the divine from centre stage and placed the individual at the centre of the universe. It followed that people began to believe creativity came from the individual. Do yourself a favour and check out the full talk below.



Gilbert advises we should be kinder to themselves and her advice echoes that well known mantra that good ideas come from 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.

‘Just do your job. Continue to show up for your piece of it, whatever that might be.’

Academic and author Steven Johnson is also fascinated by where good ideas come from but takes a different approach. He is obsessed with the patterns and environments linked to innovation. Those amazing ideas you have every now and again? Well, Johnson doesn’t believe they come out of thin air; rather they are created from dormant, partial ideas that slowly mature over time. This is why collaboration is so fantastic, it allows you to combine fragments of ideas with others and create something larger than the sum of two parts.



As for me? Well, I'm going back to the grindstone. Wish me luck.

Q & A: Professor Geoffrey Bolton

It's not often you get the chance to have a coffee with one Western Australia’s most celebrated historians. In 1954, Professor Geoffrey Bolton completed his masters thesis in history at the University of Western Australia. This year I am working on my own and I'm keen to hear about his experiences. When he meets me at a university cafe, he has just come from the library where he has been researching his latest book.

During our chat, Bolton expresses an infectious enthusiasm when describing the thrill of finding ways back into the past using archives and oral histories. It is this challenge, I think, that has sustained him throughout a dynamic career that has included numerous books and academic papers as well as teaching and leadership in public history. Through his arresting and accessible prose, Bolton has helped uncover countless hidden Australian histories.

How did you get started in history?
The right kind of teacher at the right time is important. Professor Fred Alexander (the founding Head of the Department of History at UWA) was quite influential. We were both fascinated by the opening up of the American west. When I commenced by masters, he found 100 pounds from somewhere - told me not to ask for a penny more - and sent me up north to write a history of the Kimberley pastoral industry. At the time it was very isolated and it was an incredible experience. When I finished the thesis I got a Hackett scholarship to Oxford University. I wanted to shift because Australian history is good and there is a lot to do, but it is important to have a global perspective. So all of that went into developing a historical imagination.

How do you work?
I was taught that you have to get hold of the evidence, get hold of the documents. Also, because of the work I had been doing in the Kimberly, I needed to come to grips with oral history early on. I’ve always thought oral history was a useful way to access the past. The thing about oral history is that often it concerns feelings and emotions about something rather than facts. People make mistakes about facts, but that doesn’t mean you have to discount what they are talking about. It’s a way in. For example, when I wrote ‘A Fine Country to Starve In’ we did lots of interviews. What we found was that, for people who had a hard time, the wives wanted to talk the ways they had managed, innovated and economized however the men didn’t want to talk about it as they were ashamed.

A certain level of empathy is central to good history. I remember seeing a colleague and noticing he was looking unusually haggard. I asked him why and he said it was because of a history he was writing about a notorious employer in the early coal industry. He said;

“Geoff, I’ve been trying for the last fortnight to put myself in his shoes. I’m not going to change my views but until I understand what made the bastard tick I’m not going to write anything worthwhile!”

What are your thoughts about Australian history writing in the 21st century?
I think people often look at history as a series of milestones rather than a process of continuity. For example, the 1988 Bicentennial and the 2015 Anzac Centenary. We need to be careful of that. If you limit focus to the big moments, people can slip out of immediate memory and things get lost in between. Someone who is 100 years old has a valuable story to tell, however so does someone who is 50 years old. We shouldn't wait until it becomes urgent to preserve these stories.

I can now see, what I couldn’t see when I was writing history 50 years ago, how memory places an increasingly important role in society. People are constructing myths 50 years later. Sometimes it wasn’t like that.

People like Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds have talked about the Anzac legend and militarization of Australian history but you need to remember that people are fascinated by it. When I taught European history the French Revolution and Hitler's Germany were always most popular with students as there was such a lot of action.


What drives you as a historian?
It is a lifetime profession. I suppose there is that thing that you just might just make the next project a little better than the others. There is always that challenge. Early on you have models (other historians) that you follow however I always enjoyed it as a form of writing. It is a narrative and it should be directed at the general reader. It’s important to write clearly and lucidly. It’s important to bridge academic and public audiences and the more you do it, the better you get at it.

If anything my writing style has relaxed. Early on in my career I can see examples when I was trying to write with conscious elegance. I don’t necessarily do that now. You’ll never have perfection, the most you can do is avoid deliberate error.

Have computers taken away our power?

My experiences working in new media combined with a new life as a history student means that I often find myself playing around with ideas about the ways that technology shapes us. It’s crunch time at uni at the moment (and the worst possible time to get distracted by new ideas) but I am compelled to post about a new documentary by film-maker Adam Curtis, ‘All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace’, which begins on BBC2 on 23 May.



Curtis argues that, far from liberating us, computers have distorted and simplified our view of the world. We are enamoured by the idea of a ‘network society’ because we have become disillusioned with politics.

I’ve been doing a lot of work this semester on the workings of Power and Knowledge within society and parts of this article rang true. According to Curtis;

"We never talk about power these days. We think we live in a non-hierarchical world, and we pretend not to be elitist now – which is, of course, an emotionally attractive idea, but it's just not true. And that's dangerous".

I’m not sure I’m wholly convinced by Curtis’ thesis however there are undoubtedly some powerful and important insights here. Particularly salient is his analysis of the role of social media recent Arab uprisings;

"The internet played a key role in guiding revolutions that had no guiding ideology, except a desire for self-determination and freedom. In all those revolutions, that sense of freedom lasted only for a moment. The people were brilliant at overturning the power – but then what? Democracy needs proper politics, but people have given up on saying that they're going to change the world. It's as if these people assembled spontaneously on Twitter and they just want freedom. But what kind of society do they want?"

You can read a fantastic article about the new series or take a look at his blog here.

8 lessons from X Media Lab Perth: Storytelling in a digital age.

I find myself continually drawn to the intersection of history and digital media so jumped at the chance to attend X Media Lab Perth: Storytelling in a Digital Age. Technology has always shaped our relationship with the past and today it offers exciting opportunities to reach new audiences and communicate in more engaging ways.

A range of speakers from various disciplines shared their understandings of this paradigm shift. Their views were inspiring, thought-provoking and, at times, contentious. Though aimed at a broad audience, there were some valuable insights for digital historians:

1. No matter what technology you use, the fundamentals of storytelling remain the same.
Stories are central to mankind and humanity. They teach us about how the world works, how to live in society and how to get along. Both Marshall Vandruff (Artist) and Dominic Knight (The Chaser) spoke about storytelling as a craft. It’s not enough to express yourself. There are rules and they can be learned. While most relevant to those writing non-fiction, it is important for historians to acknowledge the structure and effects of a compelling narrative. Despite all the talk of crowd-sourcing, collaboration and co-creation, Dominic rightly questioned the ability of a committee to write a classic novel or make a TV show like The Wire. It’s all about balance.

2. The most engaging stories reflect our basic human emotions.
Marshall Vandruff has had an extraordinary career as an artist and knows a thing or two about storytelling having worked for clients including Warner Brothers, Hanna-Barbara, Dark Horse Comics and MAD magazine. I was hanging off every word as he gave a lecture about classic storytelling (doing his best to condense 40 hours of lectures into 10 minutes). The most powerful stories are those which connect us with others, take us on a journey (not a tour) and give meaning to our lives. Vandruff’s focus on human empathy resonated with me - I recently read a fascinating article which cited empathy as a ‘universal solvent’ and ‘the world’s most valuable resource’. I believe good history is rarely without it.

3. Good storytelling conveys both the familiar and unfamiliar.
Another gem from Dominic Knight. Powerful storytelling treads a careful tightrope across our comfort zone. It is the tension between the familiar and unfamiliar that can convey realisations about ourselves. I was reminded of a powerful quote by historian William H. McNeil (Mythhistory and Other Essays, 1986)...

“Historians can only expect to be heard if they say what the people around them want to hear—in some degree. They can only be useful if they also tell the people some things they are reluctant to hear—in some degree.”

4. Stories can transcend borders.
Peter Shiao spoke about his work adapting classic Chinese martial arts literature for the Western world. The themes of transformation and spirituality have a powerful ability to transcend borders. His work has a strong cross cultural appeal in USA and China - two countries are most often talked about in terms of differences, rather than similarities.

5. Digital storytelling can give a voice to the voiceless.
Emma Kaye spoke about the ways in which mobile phones are being used in South Africa to empower impoverished communities to tell their own stories. In Africa, oral tradition was central to building and maintaining of community and today digital platforms have allowed a resurgence of personal storytelling. Unlike traditional filmmaking, editing and broadcasting content on mobile phones has low barriers to entry, resulting in a renaissance of content being made by the community for the community.

6. People are already pushing boundaries.
Ana Serrano shared several examples of digital storytellers who are leveraging technology and social media to create more immersive experiences. Some of the results are more engaging than others however all are breaking new ground.

• 'Life In A Day' is a historic global experiment to create the world's largest user-generated feature film: a documentary, shot in a single day.
• Spend a minute in a test tube with David Suzuki.
• The Johnny Cash Project – a crowd-sourced music video project.
• Turtle Talk at Disney/ Epcot uses 3D, voice-activated technology to bring animation into real life.
• The first Facebook Movie, 'Him, Her & Them', offers a new experience that blends interactivity with passive viewing. Filtered by the viewer’s social media graph each ‘version’ of the film is unique.
• An interactive zombie adventure from a NZ Pizza Chain.
• 'Conspiracy For Good' is an augmented reality drama that allowed people to participate in a fictional story.
• 'The Witness' is another blend of gritty drama with augmented reality. If you had a mobile phone, you could take part in the film.

7. Don't fear a shift from sole creator to co-creator.
Social media has changed everything. It’s now possible to interact with a ‘story community’, build relationships and even maintain these over the long term. Just think about all the opportunities to use these tools to connect communities for local history projects! The new remix culture (legitimised by revolutionary new frameworks such as Creative Commons) can also be harnessed to fuel innovation.

8. Interactivity can increase the level of engagement - but tread carefully.
Professor Duane Varan from Murdoch University shared his 10 Commandments for interactive storytelling. His research at the Interactive Television Research Institute has proven that interactive stories can be better than traditional linear narratives – but only if we stick to the rules of structure. Varan noted it does not matter how small the screen is; if it is an iPhone, laptop or wide screen TV. Media platforms do not hold power – content is king and interactivity should be used to complement the story rather drive the narrative.

The future of stories.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the stories we tell about our past. I've written before about the complexities of writing history, and it suddenly occurred to me that the medium is just as important as the message.

Stories we tell about our history that have the power to send men to war, topple governments and empower minorities do not lie in journal articles or a few brilliant minds - they are possessed by the public and expressed through collective memory (popular culture, ceremonies, media etc).

The power of stories cannot be harnessed unless they are shared, and they way we have told stories has always been shaped by technology.

In oral societies people often lived their entire lives in the same place. The historic record was meagre but knowledge of the past was widely shared - factors that ensured the group also shared a common worldview. During the Renaissance the printing press revolutionised the way that ideas could be communicated and the industrial revolution allowed mass production of books for the first time – both facilitating cultural relativism. The development of mass media during the 20th century enabled those in power to broadcast stories to huge audiences.

Today websites, blogs and social media including Twitter & Facebook have democratised storytelling. Millions of individuals broadcast billions of stories on a global scale however, paradoxically, this also enables us to select and consume stories that enforce the world-view we already have, rather than challenge it. As we splinter into homogenous online tribes reminiscent of oral societies, have we come full circle?

Is the quest for historical ‘Truth’ obsolete? In many ways the internet is the embodiment of postmodernism - there is very little shared experience, just competing versions of experience. Perhaps now it is more important for historians to pursue ‘many Truths’. The production of diverse histories from different perspectives reinforces the fact that there is no universal, objective Truth, but many.

Digital technology also offers up exciting new narrative mediums from which to redefine 'Truth' and reconfigure the way in which it is conveyed. For the first time in human history we have an opportunity to escape the narrative. The aptly named ‘World Wide Web’ organises information and social connections in networks as opposed to straight lines; perhaps a more accurate reflection of ‘real life’ than traditional linear storytelling. Faced with countless interpretations of the past it is possible the role of Historians may shift from ‘creator’ to ‘navigator’ – providing essential methodologies and platforms to celebrate the diversity of the human experience.

Lies, damn lies and history.

We have always told stories about the past to make sense of the world and ourselves. Not only does history provide the foundation for shared belief systems vital for social cohesion, it can also facilitate social change. Storytellers who claim the authority of truth over the past hold immense power but how can we be sure the stories they tell are True?

Truth is a fairly recent measure for evaluating the past - many myths and legends were once accepted versions of the human story. In many oral societies The Truth was judged on the reputation of storytellers or what majority thought worthy of belief. It is easy to forget too, that we have only recently become familiar with a multitude of different global belief systems. In a not too distant past individuals nearly always grew up in isolated communities to a more or less homogenous world-view.

Historians have long debated the best ways to turn ‘facts’ into ‘history and the stakes have never been higher, for today we navigate an online world that offers us countless competing interpretations.

19th century historian Leopold von Ranke developed a method of 'scientific history' by which he believed historical truth could be uncovered. His method? Harness historic evidence (documents, records etc) to prove undeniable facts... then arrange these into a readable narrative. That the true story could be accessed in this way remained largely unchallenged until the 1960’s when historian E. H. Carr stood in front of his peers at Cambridge University and proclaimed ‘this clearly will not do!’.

Carr rejected the idea that the facts existed objectively and independently of the historian, noting that in order to create meaning historians must decide which facts are considered important and selected and suggesting it more appropriate to study the historian before you begin to study the facts.

Despite acknowledging the effect that the historian had in ‘creating’ history, Carr was confident that historians could access the past. He believed that historians studying the same event might produce many interpretations - all with the potential to shed light on the past. Postmodern scholars disagreed. If history is as much about the historians world view and beliefs, they asked, how can any one version of the past be more True than another? And if this is the case, how can we possibly tell fact from fiction?

While raising important questions (and perplexing generations of university students) the complexity of post-modern analysis has, at times, risked isolating the general public from their own history. Historian David Lowenthal has noted that ‘the gulf between sophisticated chroniclers and the public seems to widen all the time’ - perhaps the single biggest threat to the quest for Truth.

Today digital technology has democratized the truth and allows storytelling on an unprecedented scale. Is this the greatest threat academic historians have ever encountered... or the biggest opportunity? Can the internet save History? I'm excited about the possibilities.