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Playing the didgeridoo led Dr Malcolm Campbell of Edward Street Dental in Brisbane to uncover some previously unknown personal history.
“I’m a co-director of a charity called Timor Children’s Foundation, heading up their dental project supporting the development of dental clinics in remote communities in Timor Leste. Returning from a visit to Timor in 2016, I bought my first didgeridoo in Darwin. Many people have given the didgeridoo a go but playing one properly requires a lot of training and practice.
“During COVID, I sat in my backyard with my dog and learned how to circular breathe. I even paid for an online tutorial to master the skill. Basically, it’s just breathing in while you’re pressing air out through lips and cheeks. There are different techniques including the cheek fill, bounce breath and jaw drop. Once you get it right, everything clicks.
“My wife, Andrea, is also a musician who lectures in music at Queensland University of Technology. She noticed some familial traits in historical family photographs and thought I might have some Aboriginal blood. I took a DNA test, and it indeed revealed she was right. I traced my ancestry back to Northern NSW in an area where the first settlers moved from Sydney. An ancestor of mine, a free British settler, married a local Aboriginal woman and about seven generations later, I was drawn to the didgeridoo.
“It’s invigorating playing a didgeridoo and almost a way to meditate. People who do yoga concentrate on controlled breathing but playing the didgeridoo requires extensive control of your breath and lungs. After playing for half an hour, I feel really good.
“The didgeridoo is a drone with a mournful sound but it’s also an expressive instrument. I own 11 different didgeridoos that cover a range of notes. When playing, you can bend the note up or down by using lip tension. I love playing with bands and I performed at my local church at Christmas, accompanying a few Australian Christmas carols. I also play for meditation groups that want a soft background drone.
“I’ve done a lot of work in remote Aboriginal communities but would never play my didgeridoo there. Their ceremonies are sacred and should be kept that way. I purchased some of my didgeridoos from the Yolngu people in North East Arnhem Land and they said they are happy for me to play in a spirit of reconciliation. Whenever I’m playing, I’m acknowledging First Nations people and the gifts they’ve given us.
“For me, playing the didgeridoo is a meditation, a feeling, and a connection to First Nation’s people. And it’s really good fun. I’m always happy, refreshed and energised after playing a didgeridoo.”
