Academic literature on the topic 'Choral music Australia'

This issue of the Nineteenth-Century Music Review is devoted to Australia and more specifically to music-making in colonial Melbourne. The colony of Victoria was acknowledged as the cultural heart of Australia during the second half of the nineteenth century. Melbourne hosted two International Exhibitions in the 1880s and welcomed innumerable travelling musicians to its shores, where significant amounts of money could be made. Because of Melbourne's standing and cultural significance at the time and the extensive body of material available for study, the articles in this journal focus on this ‘metropolis of the Southern Hemisphere’. However, the activities discussed here can all be found, to varying degrees, in other parts of Australia as well. Liedertafels, for instance, were very prominent in Adelaide and its surrounding areas (and indeed still exist today), because of the significant German migration there. Philharmonic choirs were also widely established.

BackgroundStroke is a leading cause of death and disability. Recovery is frequently compromised by reduced well-being, mood, socialisation and quality of life. Music and singing are recognised as enhancing well-being and benefit people with chronic illness. Evidence suggested that choir singing may improve the fluency of people with aphasia. Choirs existed for people with brain impairment; no studies had robust design and outcome measurement.AimTo conduct a pilot study in Newcastle, Australia in a collaboration between Hunter New England Health and the University of Newcastle. To explore the effects of choral singing on quality of life, well-being, mood, social participation and communication skills of community-dwelling stroke survivors including people with aphasia.MethodA mixed methods waitlist control design was used. 39 people at least 6 months post-stroke were assessed before and after a 12-week choir rehearsal period. Carers were invited to participate. Subjects were interviewed at the end of the period.ResultsMeasures of communication improved significantly and a trend to improvement in overall quality of life was seen. Depression and disability were significant in their impact on overall quality of life scores. Qualitative work reported increased quality of life, confidence, independence, mood and socialization and improvements in speech and communication were also reported.ConclusionOur pilot showed that a 12-week choir program for stroke survivors and carers is feasible and benefits quality of life, well-being, mood, community participation and communication in people with aphasia.

Australian musical life was founded and sustained for over 150 years by a particular class of displaced British and European professional musicians, mostly men, who brought with them what is now known as Western art music. At the time of Australia's foundation, a number of British musicians (many of them composers at the rudimentary level expected of musicians of the day), unable to find work where Italians and Germans were preferred, opted for migration to the colonies in the hope of trading their way out of a difficult situation. Some took ship to avoid the law (the debt-ridden composer Isaac Nathan for example), some came as farmers or joined the gold rushes, only to fail and have to turn to their musical skills again to earn a living (William Vincent Wallace, composer of one of the nineteenth century's most popular operas, Maritana, comes to mind).

This article describes the design and implementation of a survey instrument specifically developed for 6–17-year-old Australian choral singers to access and measure participants’ perceptions of their self-esteem, self-efficacy, musical identity and social engagement as outcomes of participation in a high-quality choral ensemble. After reviewing existing music surveys and identifying their strengths, complementarities, differences and potential weaknesses, we adapted established surveys from psychology and social science literature to the choral music setting. An initial draft survey was trialled with higher education choristers and refined prior to implementation in six young choirs that were noted for their high-quality performance. Data from 202 surveys were analysed using confirmatory factor analysis and this resulted in a four-factor model. The validated survey was implemented twice over a six-month period with 61 choristers drawn from three choirs. Results showed that social and psychological benefits of choir participation were evidenced, maintained and even improved over time. Findings support the suitability and psychometric soundness of this new survey instrument, and demonstrate the usefulness of adapting psychological/social survey instruments to music research.

When the Annual Report of Melbourne Philharmonic for 1899 complained about the lack of public support for new musical enterprises of the Society, it stated that more encouragement of the local press was needed so that ‘public curiosity might be excited, an artistic taste educated, and a desire created to hear what the Old World had approved’ (my italics). The domination of British opinion in the assembly of a music library for the Melbourne Philharmonic Society during the years of its existence in the nineteenth century, focusing upon the years 1876 to 1901, is investigated in Part I of this article. Factors influencing the choice of repertoire during this era – particularly the influence of the British publication The Musical Times and Singing-Class Circular (founded in 1844) – are noted. Examination of reports and reviews in the Musical Times supports the hypothesis that much of the new repertoire acquired by the Melbourne Philharmonic Society during these years was the direct result of opinions expressed in that publication, and the availability of performance materials publicized by Novello, Ewer, and Co. through the Musical Times, which was also published by Novello. ‘What J. Alfred Novello had on offer was unashamedly a house magazine … firmly dedicated to the advertisement of Novello's publications’. In the cultivation of musical taste, and in the development of libraries of choral societies, the activities of the publisher extended an authority far beyond the UK, placing the Musical Times in a formidable position of power throughout the English-speaking world. Part II explores three works to receive their Australian or Melbourne premieres at concerts given by the Philharmonic Society in the final quarter of the nineteenth century: each item was promulgated by the Musical Times.

Germany is a country with a proud musical heritage. Music making in community is Germany’s largest civic activity and there are a vast number of active choirs and choral organisations. Choral singing is valued as a cultural asset and national export. In this article I survey the recent history of choral singing in Germany, a civic movement that is expanding and changing beyond traditional understandings of what it means to be a “choir” and with evolving organisational structures supporting its growth. This article summarises findings of a larger 2014 study undertaken for the Australian German Association (AGA) and the Goethe Institut. It offers a number of suggestions for colleagues, leaders, and policy-makers who work in choral music in Australia, a country with a vibrant choral music scene but with much potential to improve its supporting institutional structures. As a community music research project, it may provide wider context for music therapists with an interest in community music therapy in particular. This article was first published in Sing Out (Vol. 32, No. 2, 2015)[1] and is adapted here to share my experiences and findings beyond Australia’s choral music community.

‘Clarissa’ at the Coliseum David GallagherCarter's Violin Concerto in San Francisco David SchiffSchweinitz's ‘Patmos’ in Munich Hans-Klaus JungheinrichAldeburgh 1990 Anthony BurtonElision Ensemble, Melbourne, Australia Richard ToopBrighton Festival 1990 Guy RickardsCheltenham: Bainbridge's Double Concerto Richard Leigh HarrisNew York: Women in Music and Soviet Contemporaries Claire PolinTwo Choral Premières James Reid Baxter

Over the last decade research has reported a range of positive life and learning outcomes for adult and child choristers through first-person accounts derived through surveys and interviews. Little is known regarding parent and child perspectives on choral learning, particularly regarding the impacts of participating in excellent choirs on musical development, personal benefits, and contributing factors. This study interviewed six parents and their children regarding their perceptions of the impact of singing in a renowned Australian choir on the child’s musical development and personal growth. The PERMA model was utilized to analyze individual interviews. Findings show that Positive Emotions included enjoyment and humor; Engagement consisted of early exposure to singing, motivation, practising, and future plans for involvement in music; Relationships comprised strong friendships, belonging, and acceptance; Meaning encompassed valuing professional opportunities and cultural experiences; and Accomplishment incorporated musical, performance, and personal skills. Implications for choral educators include the need to balance striving for high singing standards with recognition of children’s needs and age limitations.

Seose säilitamine päritolumaa ja -kultuuriga on diasporaaühiskondadele üldomane tunnusjoon, kuid eri etnilise ja poliitilise taustaga diasporaad realiseerivad seda erinevalt. Võõrsil elavate eestlaste kokkukuuluvustunnet on aidanud süvendada kultuurifestivalid. Artikkel analüüsib festivaliformaati, mida nimetatakse eesti päevadeks. Fookuses on 1983. aastal Göteborgis Estivali nimemärgi all toimunud eesti päevade idee ja selle teostamisega seotud probleemid. Sündmus oli eriline, kuna esmakordselt pärast Teise maailmasõda püüti festivali raames kokku tuua kodu- ja eksiileestlasi. Uurimus põhineb Hain Rebase poolt Eesti Kultuuriloolisele Arhiivile annetatud dokumentidel ning ajakirjandusel. Maintaining of relations with the country of origin is generally characteristic to diaspora societies. However, diasporas of different ethnic and political backgrounds may carry these relations out in different ways.Estonians who live outside Estonia have a long-standing tradition of organising cultural festivals—this ensures the cultural continuity for different diaspora generations and unites new immigrants with the exiles from WWII. My article gives a short overview of such festivals, which are called Estonian Days, focussing on the idea and organisational problems of the Estonian Days held in Gothenburg in 1983 under the title of Estival. This was a special event as the organisers attempted, for the first time after WWII, to bring together the Estonians from the homeland and from the diaspora. My research is based on the collection of Hain Rebas’ materials held at the Estonian Cultural History Archive and on the materials published in the press.The Estonian Days have a long history. They were first held on the West Coast of the USA in 1953, then in Australia in 1954. In Canada, the tradition was launched in 1957 and in Sweden, in 1968. Modelled on the regional festivals, the global format was soon created in North America—the Worldwide Estonian Days were held in Toronto in 1972; later, the global festival was called Esto. The traditions of both the regional Estonian Days and the Estos are still alive and now, they draw together the diaspora and resident Estonians.Prior to Estonia’s regaining of independence, the Estonian Days were a cultural and political event of the Estonian diaspora society and both of these aspects were of equal importance. The program of Estonian Days contains micro song festivals, sports competitions, art exhibitions, literary events as well as discussion evenings and conferences on political themes. A manifestation was held in the public city space where well-known politicians gave speeches demanding the recognition of the Estonians’ right for self-determination and the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Estonia.At the Estonian Days in Sweden in 1968, the discussion about communicating on the institutional level with the Estonians in the homeland became heated, opinions fell to both pro and contra. Organisers of Estival ‘83 decided to take a step forward from the discussions and to invite the Mixed Choir of the Estonian Radio Broadcasting to participate in the festival. Estonian choral singing tradition was a highly appreciated component of national culture both at home and in exile. The organisers of Estival saw choral singing as a potential for uniting all the Estonians. At a meeting of exile Estonian organisations, the chairman of the Estival board Hain Rebas explained that the Estonians in Sweden should manifest national solidarity with the Estonians in the home country, who make up 90% of all the Estonians. Inviting of an Estonian choir to the Estival should have a positive effect on the identity of all Estonians.The organisers wished to have the former president of the USA, Jimmy Carter, as the keynote speaker at the political manifestation, and in case if he refused to come, there should be some other spokesman of democratic values (e.g., the member of the European Parliament Otto von Habsburg, the Chief Secretary of the Amnesty International Thomas Hammerberg or the Prime Minister of Sweden Olaf Palme).The organisers of the Estival planned to have at one and the same event a singing choir from Soviet Estonia and a top politician representing some democratic state. If this plan had been realised, it would have meant the public opposition of two different ideologies. In archival documents and print media, it emerged that this idea caused criticism and controversy in the exile society. Some exile politicians were sure that the festival would cause a scandal. Despite criticism, the organisers sent invitations to both the politicians and the mixed choir of Estonian Radio. None of the politicians was able to come to the Estival for different reasons. However, several of them recognised the cultural achievements and political aspirations of the exile Estonians and wished them success for the future. The mixed choir of Estonian Radio also did not arrive at the festival, but they did not clarify the reasons that had made them turn down the invitation.The Estonian State Academic Male Choir (RAM) was, in 1967, the first Estonian choir to visit Sweden after WWII. The exile society was not engaged in organising the RAM’s concerts but according to newspapers, they made up a large part of the audience. The concerts took place under the supervision of the Union for Developing Cultural Relations with Estonians Abroad (VEKSA, active from 1960–1991) in the framework of the Swedish and Soviet Union’s joint project. Cultural communication of the Soviet Estonia with the Estonians abroad was allowed only through this organisation. Performance of the mixed choir of Estonian Radio in the way as the organisers of the Estival ‘83 had planned would have created an entirely new situation in the cultural communication. It would have meant the establishing of direct contacts between the exile society and the Soviet Estonian choir (the organisers did not contact VEKSA). The real-life political situation actually ruled the plan out already at the very beginning. If we look at it from the side of Soviet Estonia, it was clear that no musician could tour abroad without the support of VEKSA. If we look at it from the viewpoint of the exile society, it was known that a number of influential exile figures did not favour the development of relations on the institutional level with the occupied homeland because it could indicate the political recognition of the occupation. The mixed choir of Estonian Radio, which belonged to the state broadcasting company and was financed by the state, could be treated as an institution. Thus, the plans of the organisers of the Estival faced all at once a number of problems which could not be solved in the political context of the early 1980s.A breakthrough in the direct cultural communication between the resident and exile Estonians occurred at the Worldwide Estonian Days in Melbourne in 1988 where 150 people from Estonia participated in the festival. The RAM Boys’ Choir was among the participants. The Australian Estonian newspapers wrote about the lessening of the gulf between the two halves and stressed the task of the Estonians of the Free World of supporting cultural communication and the striving for freedom of the Estonians in the homeland.The importance of the Estival ‘83 in the long process of uniting the Estonians of the diaspora and the homeland has been overshadowed by Esto ‘88. Despite the attempts at achieving a more global dimension through the political manifestation and at strengthening the Estonians’ feeling of unity through choir music, Estival still remained a regional event of the Estonians in Sweden. However, both of these festivals clearly demonstrate that, first, culture and politics are closely intertwined and second, the exile society purposefully applied the symbiosis of culture and politics in the restoration of such kind of Estonia with which the Estonians all over the world would be able to identify without any conflicts.

There is, in our sense of place, little cognisance of what lies underground. Yet our sense of place, instinctive, unconscious, primeval, has its own underground: the secret spaces which mirror our insides; the world beneath the skin. Our roots lie beneath the ground, with the minerals and the dead. (Hughes 83) The-Home-and-Away-Game Imagine the earth-grounded, “diagrammatological” trajectory of a footballer who as one member of a team is psyching himself up before the start of a game. The siren blasts its trumpet call. The footballer bursts out of the pavilion (where this psyching up has taken place) to engage in the opening bounce or kick of the game. And then: running, leaping, limping after injury, marking, sliding, kicking, and possibly even passing out from concussion. Finally, the elation accompanying the final siren, after which hugs, handshakes and raised fists conclude the actual match on the football oval. This exit from the pavilion, the course the player takes during the game itself, and return to the pavilion, forms a combination of stasis and movement, and a return to exhausted stasis again, that every player engages with regardless of the game code. Examined from a “diagrammatological” perspective, a perspective Rowan Wilken (following in the path of Gilles Deleuze and W. J. T. Mitchell) understands as “a generative process: a ‘metaphor’ or way of thinking — diagrammatic, diagrammatological thinking — which in turn, is linked to poetic thinking” (48), this footballer’s scenario arises out of an aerial perspective that depicts the actual spatial trajectory the player takes during the course of a game. It is a diagram that is digitally encoded via a sensor on the footballer’s body, and being an electronically encoded diagram it can also make available multiple sets of data such as speed, heartbeat, blood pressure, maybe even brain-wave patterns. From this limited point of view there is only one footballer’s playing trajectory to consider; various groupings within the team, the whole team itself, and the diagrammatological depiction of its games with various other teams might also be possible. This singular imagining though is itself an actuality: as a diagram it is encoded as a graphic image by a satellite hovering around the earth with a Global Positioning System (GPS) reading the sensor attached to the footballer which then digitally encodes this diagrammatological trajectory for appraisal later by the player, coach, team and management. In one respect, this practice is another example of a willing self-surveillance critical to explaining the reflexive subject and its attribute of continuous self-improvement. According to Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club, this is a technique the club uses as a part of game/play assessment, a system that can provide a “running map” for each player equipped with such a tracking device during a game. As the Fremantle Club’s Strength and Conditioning Coach Ben Tarbox says of this tactic, “We’re getting a physiological profile that has started to build a really good picture of how individual players react during a game” (21). With a little extra effort (and some sizeable computer processing grunt) this two dimensional linear graphic diagram of a footballer working the football ground could also form the raw material for a three-dimensional animation, maybe a virtual reality game, even a hologram. It could also be used to sideline a non-performing player. Now try another related but different imagining: what if this diagrammatological trajectory could be enlarged a little to include the possibility that this same player’s movements could be mapped out by the idea of home-and-away games; say over the course of a season, maybe even a whole career, for instance? No doubt, a wide range of differing diagrammatological perspectives might suggest themselves. My own particular refinement of this movement/stasis on the footballer’s part suggests my own distinctive comings and goings to and from my own specific piece of home country. And in this incessantly domestic/real world reciprocity, in this diurnally repetitive leaving and coming back to home country, might it be plausible to think of “Home as Capital of the Region”? If, as Walter Benjamin suggests in the prelude to his monumental Arcades Project, “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century,” could it be that both in and through my comings and goings to and from this selfsame home country, my own burgeoning sense of regionality is constituted in every minute-by-minutiae of lived experience? Could it be that this feeling about home is manifested in my every day-to-night manoeuvre of home-and-away-and-away-and-home-making, of every singular instance of exit, play/engage, and the return home? “Home, Capital of the Region” then examines the idea that my home is that part of the country which is the still-point of eternal return, the bedrock to which I retreat after the daily grind, and the point from which I start out and do it all again the next day. It employs, firstly, this ‘diagrammatological’ perspective to illustrate the point that this stasis/movement across country can make an electronic record of my own psychic self-surveillance and actualisation in-situ. And secondly, the architectural plan of the domestic home (examined through the perspective of critical regionalism) is used as a conduit to illustrate how I am physically embedded in country. Lastly, intermingling these digressive threads is chora, Plato’s notion of embodied place and itself an ancient regional rendering of this eternal return to the beginning, the place where the essential diversity of country decisively enters the soul. Chora: Core of Regionality Kevin Lynch writes that, “Our senses are local, while our experience is regional” (10), a combination that suggests this regional emphasis on home-and-away-making might be a useful frame of reference (simultaneously spatiotemporal, both a visceral and encoded communication) for me to include as a crucial vector in my own life-long learning package. Regionality (as, variously, a sub-generic categorisation and an extension/concentration of nationality, as well as a recently re-emerged friend/antagonist to a global understanding) infuses my world of home with a grounded footing in country, one that is a site of an Eternal Return to the Beginning in the micro-world of the everyday. This is a point John Sallis discusses at length in his analysis of Plato’s Timaeus and its founding notion of regionality: chora. More extended absences away from home-base are of course possible but one’s return to home on most days and for most nights is a given of post/modern, maybe even of ancient everyday experience. Even for the continually shifting nomad, nightfall in some part of the country brings the rest and recreation necessary for the next day’s wanderings. This fundamental question of an Eternal Return to the Beginning arises as a crucial element of the method in Plato’s Timaeus, a seemingly “unstructured” mythic/scientific dialogue about the origins and structure of both the psychically and the physically implaced world. In the Timaeus, “incoherence is especially obvious in the way the natural sequence in which a narrative would usually unfold is interrupted by regressions, corrections, repetitions, and abrupt new beginnings” (Gadamer 160). Right in the middle of the Timaeus, in between its sections on the “Work of Reason” and the “Work of Necessity”, sits chora, both an actual spatial and bodily site where my being intersects with my becoming, and where my lived life criss-crosses the various arts necessary to articulating a recorded version of that life. Every home is a grounded chora-logical timespace harness guiding its occupant’s thoughts, feelings and actions. My own regionally implaced chora (an example of which is the diagrammatological trajectory already outlined above as my various everyday comings and goings, of me acting in and projecting myself into context) could in part be understood as a graphical realisation of the extent of my movements and stationary rests in my own particular timespace trajectory. The shorthand for this process is ‘embedded’. Gregory Ulmer writes of chora that, “While chorography as a term is close to choreography, it duplicates a term that already exists in the discipline of geography, thus establishing a valuable resonance for a rhetoric of invention concerned with the history of ‘place’ in relation to memory” (Heuretics 39, original italics). Chorography is the geographic discipline for the systematic study and analysis of regions. Chora, home, country and regionality thus form an important multi-dimensional zone of interplay in memorialising the game of everyday life. In light of these observations I might even go so far as to suggest that this diagrammatological trajectory (being both digital and GPS originated) is part of the increasingly electrate condition that guides the production of knowledge in any global/regional context. This last point is a contextual connection usefully examined in Alan J. Scott’s Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order and Michael Storper’s The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. Their analyses explicitly suggest that the symbiosis between globalisation and regionalisation has been gathering pace since at least the end of World War Two and the Bretton Woods agreement. Our emerging understanding of electracy also happens to be Gregory Ulmer’s part-remedy for shifting the ground under the intense debates surrounding il/literacy in the current era (see, in particular, Internet Invention). And, for Tony Bennett, Michael Emmison and John Frow’s analysis of “Australian Everyday Cultures” (“Media Culture and the Home” 57–86), it is within the home that our un.conscious understanding of electronic media is at its most intense, a pattern that emerges in the longer term through receiving telegrams, compiling photo albums, listening to the radio, home- and video-movies, watching the evening news on television, and logging onto the computer in the home-office, media-room or home-studio. These various generalisations (along with this diagrammatological view of my comings and goings to and from the built space of home), all point indiscriminately to a productive confusion surrounding the sedentary and nomadic opposition/conjunction. If natural spaces are constituted in nouns like oceans, forests, plains, grasslands, steppes, deserts, rivers, tidal interstices, farmland etc. (and each categorisation here relies on the others for its existence and demarcation) then built space is often seen as constituting its human sedentary equivalent. For Deleuze and Guatteri (in A Thousand Plateaus, “1227: Treatise on Nomadology — The War Machine”) these natural spaces help instigate a nomadic movement across localities and regions. From a nomadology perspective, these smooth spaces unsettle a scientific, numerical calculation, sometimes even aesthetic demarcation and order. If they are marked at all, it is by heterogenous and differential forces, energised through constantly oscillating intensities. A Thousand Plateaus is careful though not to elevate these smooth nomadic spaces over the more sedentary spaces of culture and power (372–373). Nonetheless, as Edward S. Casey warns, “In their insistence on becoming and movement, however, the authors of A Thousand Plateaus overlook the placial potential of settled dwelling — of […] ‘built places’” (309, original italics). Sedentary, settled dwelling centred on home country may have a crust of easy legibility and order about it but it also formats a locally/regionally specific nomadic quality, a point underscored above in the diagrammatological perspective. The sedentary tendency also emerges once again in relation to home in the architectural drafting of the domestic domicile. The Real Estate Revolution When Captain Cook planted the British flag in the sand at Botany Bay in 1770 and declared the country it spiked as Crown Land and henceforth will come under the ownership of an English sovereign, it was also the moment when white Australia’s current fascination with real estate was conceived. In the wake of this spiking came the intense anxiety over Native Title that surfaced in late twentieth century Australia when claims of Indigenous land grabs would repossess suburban homes. While easily dismissed as hyperbole, a rhetorical gesture intended to arouse this very anxiety, its emergence is nonetheless an indication of the potential for political and psychic unsettling at the heart of the ownership and control of built place, or ‘settled dwelling’ in the Australian context. And here it would be wise to include not just the gridded, architectural quality of home-building and home-making, but also the home as the site of the family romance, another source of unsettling as much as a peaceful calming. Spreading out from the boundaries of the home are the built spaces of fences, bridges, roads, railways, airport terminals (along with their interconnecting pathways), which of course brings us back to the communications infrastructure which have so often followed alongside the development of transport infrastructure. These and other elements represent this conglomerate of built space, possibly the most significant transformation of natural space that humanity has brought about. For the purposes of this meditation though it is the more personal aspect of built space — my home and regional embeddedness, along with their connections into the global electrosphere — that constitutes the primary concern here. For a sedentary, striated space to settle into an unchallenged existence though requires a repression of the highest order, primarily because of the home’s proximity to everyday life, of the latter’s now fading ability to sometimes leave its presuppositions well enough alone. In settled, regionally experienced space, repressions are more difficult to abstract away, they are lived with on a daily basis, which also helps to explain the extra intensity brought to their sometimes-unsettling quality. Inversely, and encased in this globalised electro-spherical ambience, home cannot merely be a place where one dwells within avoiding those presuppositions, I take them with me when I travel and they come back with me from afar. This is a point obliquely reflected in Pico Iyer’s comment that “Australians have so flexible a sense of home, perhaps, that they can make themselves at home anywhere” (185). While our sense of home may well be, according to J. Douglas Porteous, “the territorial core” of our being, when other arrangements of space and knowledge shift it must inevitably do so as well. In these shifts of spatial affiliation (aided and abetted by regionalisation, globalisation and electronic knowledge), the built place of home can no longer be considered exclusively under the illusion of an autonomous sanctuary wholly guaranteed by capitalist property relations, one of the key factors in its attraction. These shifts in the cultural, economic and psychic relation of home to country are important to a sense of local and regional implacement. The “feeling” of autonomy and security involved in home occupation and/or ownership designates a component of this implacement, a point leading to Eric Leed’s comment that, “By the sixteenth century, literacy had become one of the definitive signs — along with the possession of property and a permanent residence — of an independent social status” (53). Globalising and regionalising forces make this feeling of autonomy and security dynamic, shifting the ground of home, work-place practices and citizenship allegiances in the process. Gathering these wide-ranging forces impacting on psychic and built space together is the emergence of critical regionalism as a branch of architectonics, considered here as a theory of domestic architecture. Critical Regionality Critical regionalism emerged out of the collective thinking of Liane Lefaivre and Alexander Tzonis (Tropical Architecture; Critical Regionalism), and as these authors themselves acknowledge, was itself deeply influenced by the work of Lewis Mumford during the first part of the twentieth century when he was arguing against the authority of the international style in architecture, a style epitomised by the Bauhaus movement. It is Kenneth Frampton’s essay, “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance” that deliberately takes this question of critical regionalism and makes it a part of a domestic architectonic project. In many ways the ideas critical regionalism espouses can themselves be a microcosm of this concomitantly emerging global/regional polis. With public examples of built-form the power of the centre is on display by virtue of a building’s enormous size and frequently high-cultural aesthetic power. This is a fact restated again and again from the ancient world’s agora to Australia’s own political bunker — its Houses of Parliament in Canberra. While Frampton discusses a range of aspects dealing with the universal/implaced axis across his discussion, it is points five and six that deserve attention from a domestically implaced perspective. Under the sub-heading, “Culture Versus Nature: Topography, Context, Climate, Light and Tectonic Form” is where he writes that, Here again, one touches in concrete terms this fundamental opposition between universal civilization and autochthonous culture. The bulldozing of an irregular topography into a flat site is clearly a technocratic gesture which aspires to a condition of absolute placelessness, whereas the terracing of the same site to receive the stepped form of a building is an engagement in the act of “cultivating” the site. (26, original italics) The “totally flat datum” that the universalising tendency sometimes presupposes is, within the critical regionalist perspective, an erroneous assumption. The “cultivation” of a site for the design of a building illustrates the point that built space emerges out of an interaction between parallel phenomena as they contrast and/or converge in a particular set of timespace co-ordinates. These are phenomena that could include (but are not limited to) geomorphic data like soil and rock formations, seismic activity, inclination and declension; climatic considerations in the form of wind patterns, temperature variations, rainfall patterns, available light and dark, humidity and the like; the building context in relation to the cardinal points of north, south, east, and west, along with their intermediary positions. There are also architectural considerations in the form of available building materials and personnel to consider. The social, psychological and cultural requirements of the building’s prospective in-dwellers are intermingled with all these phenomena. This is not so much a question of where to place the air conditioning system but the actuality of the way the building itself is placed on its site, or indeed if that site should be built on at all. A critical regionalist building practice, then, is autochthonous to the degree that a full consideration of this wide range of in-situ interactions is taken into consideration in the development of its design plan. And given this autochthonous quality of the critical regionalist project, it also suggests that the architectural design plan itself (especially when it utilised in conjunction with CAD and virtual reality simulations), might be the better model for designing electrate-centred projects rather than writing or even the script. The proliferation of ‘McMansions’ across many Australian suburbs during the 1990s (generally, oversized domestic buildings designed in the abstract with little or no thought to the above mentioned elements, on bulldozed sites, with powerful air-conditioning systems, and no verandas or roof eves to speak of) demonstrates the continuing influence of a universal, centralising dogma in the realm of built place. As summer temperatures start to climb into the 40°C range all these air-conditioners start to hum in unison, which in turn raises the susceptibility of the supporting infrastructure to collapse under the weight of an overbearing electrical load. The McMansion is a clear example of a built form that is envisioned more so in a drafting room, a space where the architect is remote-sensing the locational specificities. In this envisioning (driven more by a direct line-of-sight idiom dominant in “flat datum” and economic considerations rather than architectural or experiential ones), the tactile is subordinated, which is the subject of Frampton’s sixth point: It is symptomatic of the priority given to sight that we find it necessary to remind ourselves that the tactile is an important dimension in the perception of built form. One has in mind a whole range of complementary sensory perceptions which are registered by the labile body: the intensity of light, darkness, heat and cold; the feeling of humidity; the aroma of material; the almost palpable presence of masonry as the body senses it own confinement; the momentum of an induced gait and the relative inertia of the body as it traverses the floor; the echoing resonance of our own footfall. (28) The point here is clear: in its wider recognition of, and the foregrounding of my body’s full range of sensate capacities in relation to both natural and built space, the critical regionalist approach to built form spreads its meaning-making capacities across a broader range of knowledge modalities. This tactility is further elaborated in more thoroughly personal ways by Margaret Morse in her illuminating essay, “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam”. Paradoxically, this synaesthetic, syncretic approach to bodily meaning-making in a built place, regional milieu intensely concentrates the site-centred locus of everyday life, while simultaneously, the electronic knowledge that increasingly underpins it expands both my body’s and its region’s knowledge-making possibilities into a global gestalt, sometimes even a cosmological one. It is a paradoxical transformation that makes us look anew at social, cultural and political givens, even objective and empirical understandings, especially as they are articulated through national frames of reference. Domestic built space then is a kind of micro-version of the multi-function polis where work, pleasure, family, rest, public display and privacy intermingle. So in both this reduction and expansion in the constitution of domestic home life, one that increasingly represents the location of the production of knowledge, built place represents a concentration of energy that forces us to re-imagine border-making, order, and the dynamic interplay of nomadic movement and sedentary return, a point that echoes Nicolas Rothwell’s comment that “every exile has in it a homecoming” (80). Albeit, this is a knowledge-making milieu with an expanded range of modalities incorporated and expressed through a wide range of bodily intensities not simply cognitive ones. Much of the ambiguous discontent manifested in McMansion style domiciles across many Western countries might be traced to the fact that their occupants have had little or no say in the way those domiciles have been designed and/or constructed. In Heidegger’s terms, they have not thought deeply enough about “dwelling” in that building, although with the advent of the media room the question of whether a “building” securely borders both “dwelling” and “thinking” is now open to question. As anxieties over border-making at all scales intensifies, the complexities and un/sureties of natural and built space take ever greater hold of the psyche, sometimes through the advance of a “high level of critical self-consciousness”, a process Frampton describes as a “double mediation” of world culture and local conditions (21). Nearly all commentators warn of a nostalgic, romantic or a sentimental regionalism, the sum total of which is aimed at privileging the local/regional and is sometimes utilised as a means of excluding the global or universal, sometimes even the national (Berry 67). Critical regionalism is itself a mediating factor between these dispositions, working its methods and practices through my own psyche into the local, the regional, the national and the global, rejecting and/or accepting elements of these domains, as my own specific context, in its multiplicity, demands it. If the politico-economic and cultural dimensions of this global/regional world have tended to undermine the process of border-making across a range of scales, we can see in domestic forms of built place the intense residue of both their continuing importance and an increased dependency on this electro-mediated world. This is especially apparent in those domiciles whose media rooms (with their satellite dishes, telephone lines, computers, television sets, games consuls, and music stereos) are connecting them to it in virtuality if not in reality. Indeed, the thought emerges (once again keeping in mind Eric Leed’s remark on the literate-configured sense of autonomy that is further enhanced by a separate physical address and residence) that the intense importance attached to domestically orientated built place by globally/regionally orientated peoples will figure as possibly the most viable means via which this sense of autonomy will transfer to electronic forms of knowledge. If, however, this here domestic habitué turns his gaze away from the screen that transports me into this global/regional milieu and I focus my attention on the physicality of the building in which I dwell, I once again stand in the presence of another beginning. This other beginning is framed diagrammatologically by the building’s architectural plans (usually conceived in either an in-situ, autochthonous, or a universal manner), and is a graphical conception that anchors my body in country long after the architects and builders have packed up their tools and left. This is so regardless of whether a home is built, bought, rented or squatted in. Ihab Hassan writes that, “Home is not where one is pushed into the light, but where one gathers it into oneself to become light” (417), an aphorism that might be rephrased as follows: “Home is not where one is pushed into the country, but where one gathers it into oneself to become country.” For the in-and-out-and-around-and-about domestic dweller of the twenty-first century, then, home is where both regional and global forms of country decisively enter the soul via the conduits of the virtuality of digital flows and the reality of architectural footings. Acknowledgements I’m indebted to both David Fosdick and Phil Roe for alerting me to the importance to the Fremantle Dockers Football Club. The research and an original draft of this essay were carried out under the auspices of a PhD scholarship from Central Queensland University, and from whom I would also like to thank Denis Cryle and Geoff Danaher for their advice. References Benjamin, Walter. “Paris — the Capital of the Nineteenth Century.” Charles Baudelaire: A Lyric Poet in the Era of High Capitalism. Trans. Quintin Hoare. London: New Left Books, 1973. 155–176. Bennett, Tony, Michael Emmison and John Frow. Accounting for Tastes: Australian Everyday Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1999. Berry, Wendell. “The Regional Motive.” A Continuous Harmony: Essays Cultural and Agricultural. San Diego: Harcourt Brace. 63–70. Casey, Edward S. The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History. Berkeley: U of California P, 1997. Deleuze, Gilles and Félix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U of Minneapolis P, 1987. Deleuze, Gilles. “The Diagram.” The Deleuze Reader. Ed. Constantin Boundas. Trans. Constantin Boundas and Jacqueline Code. New York: Columbia UP, 1993. 193–200. Frampton, Kenneth. “Towards a Critical Regionalism: Six Points for an Architecture of Resistance.” The Anti-Aesthetic: Essays on Post-Modern Culture. Ed. Hal Foster. Port Townsend: Bay Press, 1983. 16–30. Gadamer, Hans-Georg. “Idea and Reality in Plato’s Timaeus.” Dialogue and Dialectic: Eight Hermeneutical Studies on Plato. Trans. P. Christopher Smith. New Haven: Yale UP, 1980. 156–193. Hassan, Ihab. “How Australian Is It?” The Best Australian Essays. Ed. Peter Craven. Melbourne: Black Inc., 2000. 405–417. Heidegger, Martin. “Building Dwelling Thinking.” Poetry, Language, Thought. Trans. Albert Hofstadter. New York: Harper and Row, 1971. 145–161. Hughes, John. The Idea of Home: Autobiographical Essays. Sydney: Giramondo, 2004. Iyer, Pico. “Australia 1988: Five Thousand Miles from Anywhere.” Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World. London: Jonathon Cape, 1993. 173–190. “Keeping Track.” Docker, Official Magazine of the Fremantle Football Club. Edition 3, September (2005): 21. Leed, Eric. “‘Voice’ and ‘Print’: Master Symbols in the History of Communication.” The Myths of Information: Technology and Postindustrial Culture. Ed. Kathleen Woodward. Madison, Wisconsin: Coda Press, 1980. 41–61. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. “The Suppression and Rethinking of Regionalism and Tropicalism After 1945.” Tropical Architecture: Critical Regionalism in the Age of Globalization. Eds. Alexander Tzonis, Liane Lefaivre and Bruno Stagno. Chichester, West Sussex: Wiley-Academy, 2001. 14–58. Lefaivre, Liane and Alexander Tzonis. Critical Regionalism: Architecture and Identity in a Globalized World. New York: Prestel, 2003. Lynch, Kevin. Managing the Sense of a Region. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT P, 1976. Mitchell, W. J. T. “Diagrammatology.” Critical Inquiry 7.3 (1981): 622–633. Morse, Margaret. “Home: Smell, Taste, Posture, Gleam.” Home, Exile, Homeland: Film, Media, and the Politics of Place. Ed. Hamid Naficy. New York and London: Routledge, 1999. 63–74. Plato. Timaeus and Critias. Trans. Desmond Lee. Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1973. Porteous, J. Douglas. “Home: The Territorial Core.” Geographical Review LXVI (1976): 383-390. Rothwell, Nicolas. Wings of the Kite-Hawk: A Journey into the Heart of Australia. Sydney: Pidador, 2003. Sallis, John. Chorology: On Beginning in Plato’s Timaeus. Bloomington: Indianapolis UP, 1999. Scott, Allen J. Regions and the World Economy: The Coming Shape of Global Production, Competition, and Political Order. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Storper, Michael. The Regional World: Territorial Development in a Global Economy. New York: The Guildford Press, 1997. Ulmer, Gregory L. Heuretics: The Logic of Invention. New York: John Hopkins UP, 1994. Ulmer, Gregory. Internet Invention: Literacy into Electracy. Longman: Boston, 2003. Wilken, Rowan. “Diagrammatology.” Illogic of Sense: The Gregory Ulmer Remix. Eds. Darren Tofts and Lisa Gye. Alt-X Press, 2007. 48–60. Available at http://www.altx.com/ebooks/ulmer.html. (Retrieved 12 June 2007)

The thesis aimed to assess the philosophies of Stephen Leek, in regard to the education for an Australian choral tradition. In order to address Stephen Leek's philosophies, a study of Australia's existing choral tradition and its history was conducted. This was followed by a general overview of music education in Australia post 1960. In light of these findings, Leek's educational philosophies were discussed, with specific influences, including biographical information. Leek's educational work Voiceworks was found to encapsulate his ideas. The program is creative-based, and aims to facilitate the discovery of new artistic concepts, and foster acceptance and interest in contemporary Australian choral music. Using the voice as the sole instrument, students can perform the pieces from Voiceworks, or use the ideas for further creativity in their own compositions. The program is based on experimentation, discovery, structuring, formulating, rehearsal, performance and discussion. Leek advocates that these stages are the quickest and most effective way of facilitating the learning of contemporary music techniques. In the evaluation of Leek's philosophies, case studies using a lesson from Voiceworks, were conducted with two Year 7 music classes in two different government coeducational schools. The findings revealed that Voiceworks can be a successful resource in the education for an Australian choral tradition. However, it was also found that excitement, enthusiasm and enjoyment are the key to its success, and hence excellent teaching is required in its presentation.

The thesis aimed to assess the philosophies of Stephen Leek, in regard to the education for an Australian choral tradition. In order to address Stephen Leek's philosophies, a study of Australia's existing choral tradition and its history was conducted. This was followed by a general overview of music education in Australia post 1960. In light of these findings, Leek's educational philosophies were discussed, with specific influences, including biographical information. Leek's educational work Voiceworks was found to encapsulate his ideas. The program is creative-based, and aims to facilitate the discovery of new artistic concepts, and foster acceptance and interest in contemporary Australian choral music. Using the voice as the sole instrument, students can perform the pieces from Voiceworks, or use the ideas for further creativity in their own compositions. The program is based on experimentation, discovery, structuring, formulating, rehearsal, performance and discussion. Leek advocates that these stages are the quickest and most effective way of facilitating the learning of contemporary music techniques. In the evaluation of Leek's philosophies, case studies using a lesson from Voiceworks, were conducted with two Year 7 music classes in two different government coeducational schools. The findings revealed that Voiceworks can be a successful resource in the education for an Australian choral tradition. However, it was also found that excitement, enthusiasm and enjoyment are the key to its success, and hence excellent teaching is required in its presentation.

The purpose of this study is to investigate the choral works of Colin Brumby, with a special focus on the musical-textual relationships of selected works from his body of choral compositions, which number more than one hundred and twenty. This investigation includes information gathered in Australia at the University of Sydney, the University of Queensland, and the Australian Music Centre, as well as information furnished in a personal interview with the composer in Brisbane, Australia, in June 1994, in addition to an August 1994 telephone interview cnducted with Thomas Shapcott, the Australian poet with whom Brumby collaberated on over twenty choral compositions.

This thesis is essentially an ethnographic study of the musical culture of women's community a cappella choirs in Australia. More specifically, it is an examination of the experience of women in five selected women's community a cappella choirs in south-eastern Australia during the period from July 1995 until April 1996. The thesis explores the origins of the choirs that participated in the study, the motivations for the women who joined, the broader lifescapes of the members, the organisational processes of the choirs, the repertoire they chose to perform, the musical experience within the choir, and their performances. Drawing on these explorations, it examines the issues inherent in the intersection of gender, identity and musical experience within the overall experience of the women's community a cappella choirs. It considers how gender, identity and musical experience are expressed and experienced, produced and reproduced, within this choral environment. To a lesser degree, it places these choirs within the emergence of an a cappella scene and, more broadly, the cultural milieu in Australia from a theoretical viewpoint that recognises everyday musical practice as an appropriate site. The thesis also examines the challenges to a methodological approach that is fundamentally one of a researcher who is both an insider and an outsider.

Thesis (M.Mus)--Australian Catholic University, 2004.
Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Music. Bibliography: p. 150-156. Also available in an electronic format via the internet.

This portfolio of compositions and exegesis submitted for the degree of Master of Music in Composition, at the Elder Conservatorium of Music, comprises original creative works supported by a detailed commentary. The creative investigation has focused on ‘Composing for a Choral Spectrum.’ This was investigated through practical experiments in choral composition, designed to test the compositional limitations of the choral spectrum, and resulted in a portfolio of choral works. The portfolio includes: simple choral works for young children in one part; choral works for children in two parts; choral works for children in three parts; a choral work for teenage treble voices; a multimedia choral work for boys with changing voices with a moving image DVD; a choral work for male voices; choral works for adult female voices; a complex choral work for adult choirs of a professional standard; and a larger scale choral and orchestral work. The exegesis provides a commentary on the genesis, composition processes, limitations and solutions, for each original work included in the portfolio.
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Thesis (M.Mus.) -- University of Adelaide, Elder Conservatorium of Music, 2008

This portfolio of compositions and exegesis submitted for the degree of Master of Music in Composition, at the Elder Conservatorium of Music, comprises original creative works supported by a detailed commentary. The creative investigation has focused on ‘Composing for a Choral Spectrum.’ This was investigated through practical experiments in choral composition, designed to test the compositional limitations of the choral spectrum, and resulted in a portfolio of choral works. The portfolio includes: simple choral works for young children in one part; choral works for children in two parts; choral works for children in three parts; a choral work for teenage treble voices; a multimedia choral work for boys with changing voices with a moving image DVD; a choral work for male voices; choral works for adult female voices; a complex choral work for adult choirs of a professional standard; and a larger scale choral and orchestral work. The exegesis provides a commentary on the genesis, composition processes, limitations and solutions, for each original work included in the portfolio.
Thesis (M.Mus.) -- University of Adelaide, Elder Conservatorium of Music, 2008

Masters Research - Master of Creative Arts
The purpose of this thesis is to develop a greater awareness of the various techniques available to composers in the field of choral and orchestral composition. This is achieved through the examination of a selection of contemporary Australian works in this genre and by reflecting upon and implementing the concepts they contain in a portfolio of original works. Some of the techniques discussed include general structural principles, the relationship between instrumental and vocal sections, and the connection between text and music. The first part of the study deals with the selected scores. These have been chosen for their stylistic variety and represent the work of four established and emerging composers: Nigel Butterley, Carl Vine, Paul Stanhope, and Matthew Orlovich. The second part contains an analysis of the portfolio of original pieces and aims to identify the various technical devices and general approaches to vocal and choral writing common to the chosen composers and the author, as well as discussing points of divergence that also exist. All composers have a natural desire to deepen their understanding of the tools with which they work, and so, ultimately, this study seeks to document one person's journey along the path to the realisation of this goal.

This article, focuses on the durability of Methodist “mission music” among the Yolngu, an Australian Indigenous people, and addresses questions of musical transfer between missionaries and Yolngu over fifty years that have shaped their Christian music politics. “Mission music” is marked as a genre by its association with the early missionaries among the Yolngu, their processes of teaching and transmission and its articulation with some aspects of Yolngu ritual performance practices. Today, mission music is performed together with an array of contemporary Christian musics reflecting its ongoing importance as a local, transnational and international currency. Magowan shows how hymnody has persisted for Yolngu as a musical mode of remembering and celebrating the past, illustrated first in early dialogic approaches to music teaching and choral training, and later recaptured in choral performances for the 50th anniversary festival of a Yolngu mission. She argues that “mission music,” in spite of its introduced, non-local origins, has become an experiential, rhythmical and textual sign of the “local” as it is adopted and used by the Yolngu. Choral singing is shown to be a means of embodying mission memories and facilitating local charismatic leadership, in turn, transforming Yolngu-missionary relationships over time. Ongoing work with missionary evangelists and frequent travel to foreign mission fields have also created new arenas for intercultural dialogue, leading to increasing complexity in Yolngu relationships embodied in Christian performance.

The Oxford Handbook of Faust in Music comprises twenty-five chapters examining representative works in the history of the Faust theme in music from the nineteenth century to the present in Europe, North America, Australia, and the United Kingdom. Since its emergence in sixteenth-century Germany, the magician Faust has become one of the most profound themes in Western history. Though variants are found across all media, few adaptations have met with greater acclaim than in music. Bringing together more than two dozen authors in a foundational volume, The Oxford Handbook of Faust in Music testifies to the spectacular impact the Faust theme has exerted over the centuries. The Handbook’s three-part organization enables readers to follow the evolution of Faust in music across time and stylistic periods. Part I explores symphonic, choral, chamber, and solo Faust works by composers from Beethoven to Schnittke. Part II discusses the range of Faustian operas, and Part III examines Faust’s presence in ballet and musical theater. Illustrating the interdisciplinary relationships between music and literature and the fascinating tapestry of intertextual relationships among the works of Faustian music themselves, the volume suggests that rather than merely retelling the story of Faust, these musical compositions contribute significant insights on the tale and its unrivaled cultural impact.