An Interview with Eric Hixson

"As a musician who regularly plays didjeridu in several acoustic and louder ensemble contexts, I have to schlep my sticks around a lot, often in a truck packed with my drum set and other gear, and often in some very hot and humid weather. Wax mouthpieces and pretty ochre artwork don't endure well under such conditions, so I've become pretty adept at making didjeridus durable, gig-worthy, and perfectly tuned to play in key with other musicians."  From Eric Hixson's web page

[Ed] How did you become interested in the didjeridu?

[Eric] I first heard the instrument here and there in small snippets back in the late 70s without having any idea what it looked like. I heard it in the context of Australian movies, documentaries, or travel advertisements, LOL, so I knew it was an indigenous sound from Australia and the instrument was called a "didjeridu" but that's all. I had no idea what the instrument actually looked like, but I was fascinated with the sound. With the advent of the "Australian Invasion" during the New Wave music period in the early 80s, I remember that I kept hoping that the instrument would be featured in some of the bands coming out of Australia. If memory serves, though, I think that maybe only Midnight Oil, Split Enz, and perhaps the Thompson Twins actually ever used the didg, and it was not prominently featured in their music--just a novelty texture on one or two isolated tracks. The first time I actually saw the instrument was in the movie "The Coca Cola Kid," in a scene inside a recording studio where Tim Finn of Split Enz (and Crowded House) was playing what looked like a *huge* stick along with some aboriginal fellow. I remember thinking: "How the hell do they make that sound without stopping?"

 Then it all faded from my awareness until the mid-90s. Musically, I was focused on the bass, which was my main performance instrument for about ten years. I had really gotten into acid jazz, and a relatively obscure English band (at the time) called Jamiroquai was brought to my attention. In their first two albums they had some tracks that prominently featured the didj (before they hit it big in the U.S. with "Virtual Insanity" from their third album). I loved those first two albums, and still do to this day--they're so much better than the over-produced, lifeless tracks that have been churned out since most of the original band quit. Those didj-oriented tracks were so cool. From that point on, I was on the lookout for a didj I could try out.

[Ed] So you were on the look out for a didj. What did you find out? How did you get started with it once you found (or made?) an instrument to learn on?

[Eric] At that time, the internet was still in its infancy. It never occurred to me to look around on the internet, even later, because music instruments can vary so widely in quality and it was unthinkable to me at the time to buy any kind of instrument that I couldn't first put my hands on and actually play for myself. It's still unthinkable, actually, but for niche instruments like the didjeridu you don't have much choice. In retrospect, however, the internet has been a huge boon to musicians interested in finding quality didjeridus, learning how to play them, and learning about the instrument's cultural background. And fortunately there are now some quality vendors with very well-designed web sites. LA Outback here in the U.S., and The Didj Shop in Australia come to mind. The Didj Shop, for example, provides good pictures and MP3s of every stick they offer. LA Outback provides good pictures and informative descriptions of each stick, and they will take the time to demo any stick you're interested in over the phone. If there had been internet vendors like these available back in the mid 90s, I'd have wasted a lot less time getting where I am today.

 As it was, I finally ran across my first didj at a local garden and crafts show here in Austin in 1998. Some local fellow had a huge selection of custom-crafted bamboo didjs. They were all finished/sealed inside and out with a hard beeswax-parafin mix, and he built up the mouthpieces nicely.

 They were pretty well-made for bamboo sticks. I spent about two hours there, playing every single stick he had, and there was definitely one that sounded much better to me than any of the others. Unfortunately, it had a huge bore with awful backpressure, and the guy warned me that it would be harder to learn to CB on but I just didn't like the sound of any of the "easier" sticks.

 Two years later, I still hadn't learned to CB on that poor stick. I could sniff while blowing, no problem, but just didn't have enough control and experience to keep the air going on that thing. The backpressure was truly non-existent and it took a lot of air to just lay down a basic drone. Consequently, I played it very little, on and off. There really isn't much motivation to learn and keep improving when you can't CB, and I think its very important for beginners to start out with a stick that will be easy to learn circular breathing on.

 Then one day I suddenly came across didjeridus at one of the music supermarkets that had recently invaded Austin. These sticks were obviously made from plastic but were painted and finished nicely, were very cheap (like $60 or $80 each), and to my uneducated ears actually sounded pretty good. Most importantly, though, they had great backpressure. Just for grins I tried CBing on one of them and actually did it right off the bat, holding out for about a minute before I finally ran out of fresh air! I was elated and immediately bought it. A couple days later I decided to visit the web site (LA Outback) that came with the booklet attached to the didj, to see whether they had any training videos or CDs. That's when I caught my first eyeful of some quality eucalyptus sticks.

 I originally called up LA Outback just to order a training video and a CD or two that I could learn from. It was that first Alan Harris video and Shaun Farrendun's "Yidaki" CD. While I was on the phone with that vendor, I also inquired about their Euc sticks in the $200-300 range, because I was willing to risk that much money on the hunch that a Euc stick would sound much nicer than this plastic one, and the risk that I wouldn't carry through and really keep playing didjeridu. Barry was great and spent a long time with me over the phone helping me pick a stick whose sound I liked, and which he felt had good qualities as a stick to learn on.

In short order I had a very nice-sounding "real" didjerdu and some good examples of basic rhythmic technique in that Shaun Farrendun CD. I was highly motivated to learn how to copy everything on that CD, and it wasn't even a week or two before I made my real breakthrough discovery that trying to play rhythmically is the whole key to learning how to CB effortlessly.

 You're so busy trying to figure out what the other person is doing, and to copy it, that you stop thinking about your circular breathing, for one. And secondly, when you start hooting and gut-slapping and otherwise using up a lot of air quickly, you find yourself sniffing fresh air a *lot* more often and not building up carbon dioxide in your lungs. Sniffing air *often* is crucial, I think, to really getting the hang of circular breathing, but I don't think that little tip is conveyed strongly enough in most of the educational materials that I've seen. When I teach people to CB, now, I start them right away with a simple vocalized rhythm like:

|: Daaarrrrrrr - Doo (sniff) Doo (sniff) :|

 I tell them to sing the "Darrrrrrr" and sort of hoot/huff the "Doo" so that they're using up a lot of air. A simple pattern like this forces them to sniff often in a bounce-breath fashion just to keep the pattern going, and gives them something musical and repetitive to focus on so that they're less focused on the intake sniffs.

[Ed] So you were really on your way once you found an suitable instrument and some instructional material. With your newly acquired skills gained from the instructions of Alan Harris where did you go with your playing? Did you try to incorporate it with your own music right away?

[Eric] Well to be honest, that video didn't really offer much in the way of instruction beyond making a drone, how to CB, and how to make some animal sounds. I really learned much more from that Shaun Farrendun CD, which had all manner of rhythms I didn't even know one could do at the time. It was the perfect next step for where I was at the time, having acquired the knack of circular breathing but not the ability to regulate my intake and outflow to keep my air fresh for long periods.

 As for the context in which I wanted to incorporate the didjeridu, yes, I very much wanted to incorporate it into the repetoire my band was currently doing. We had been a straight up dance-oriented funk/R&B band for quite some time, but we were starting to incorporate some East-meets-West raga rock and some Mid-East influences. I started out by extending the intro to a Kula Shaker-esque version of "Govinda" so that I started with a fairly ambient drone by itself, with our keyboard player then bringing in a typical 5 - 1' - 1' - 1 tamboura riff and the rest of the band doing ambient stuff for a good minute before starting the song proper. I also added a rhythmic vamp during the bridge to a mid-eastern song called "Iskanderia." That one was tough because I had to play that while also playing a fairly weird six on four drum pattern. (Did I mention that about three years ago I switched from bass to drums as my main performance instrument?)

 I had to rig up a special two-part didj holder to enable me to lean over slightly and play the didj while drumming. You can see one part of it in the picture of me, on my web page (http://home.austin.rr.com/shakti/didjweb), performing at the One World theatre in Austin--it doubles for supporting and miking two sticks at once for full-on stand-up playing. I had a custom welder modify two cymbal stands with a special plate for the bottom end and some V-shaped supports for the top end.

 But at that time I still had very primitive chops and couldn't think of much more to do in the context of our music other than a slightly rhythmic ambient drone as a kind of pad underneath a given song section. So I started a full-on search for music samples where the didjeridu was being incorporated into a Western context. I found a lot of stuff on MP3.com and the one person who jumped out at me was Randy Graves for his stuff he did with Didginus. (And I really loved his campy but rockin' "Didjbox.") So I emailed him and asked his advice, explaining what kind of context I was trying to fit the didjeridu into with my own music. Randy was great, just great. He was very helpful and supportive, and over the course of a few emails he offered a wealth of advice and patiently answered my questions both about music and about didjeridus. At that point in time, I wasn't even aware of the difference between Western Arhemland sticks and NE Arhemland sticks, playing styles, environmental and cultural issues, etc.

 Randy pointed me in three fundamental directions that totally shaped how I   have approached the instrument. First, he suggested I find the two early Graham Wiggins albums, when Graham was part of "Outback," and study those   for good examples of meshing *rhythmic* didj playing into a western "song"   context. (As opposed to an ambient context or a trance/house/groove context   ala Ganga Giri or Charlie McMahon.) Second, he got me interested in   learning about traditional aboriginal technique, specifically the NE Arhemland styles, because their style is so aggressively rhythmic. At the time, the best resource was Alice Moyle's 5-volume "Songs from the Northern Territory," which he recommended. Third, he suggested I get a higher-pitched stick to complement my relatively low-pitched C# and D. This time I took care to look specifically for a good-quality yidaki from NE Arhemland and ended up with a very nice Datjirri Wunungmurra in E.

[Ed] Aside from your music, are there more private times you spend with the instrument? I recently did an interview with a music therapist who talked about other properties of the   sound of the didjeridu and I believe you told me in private  conversation that you practice meditation. So I'm wondering  about more personal experiences, out of the settings of performance  and rehersals, which you might be willing to share. Or perhaps  how your background in meditation might influence your approach to all of music and/or life?

[Eric]   Well, I need to tread carefully here, because I really, really don't want to contribute to the new age mystique that has been heaped onto the instrument and spawned a lot of false proclamations about the instrument's traditional use and about the culture from which it originated. I'm sure many people reading this article will agree that there is a lot of hogwash and misinformation being propagated about the spiritual background of the instrument, and that a lot of this misinformation is actually encouraged by the music and instrument industry itself because of its commercial appeal.

 Having said that, however, I'll postulate that commercial greed is not the only factor behind this unfortunate new age mystique. There are two other factors at work here. First, contemporary western Judeo-Christian culture is fairly devoid of spiritual content, yet it is a fundamental aspect of human nature to require a spiritual connection when you have reached a certain point in your personal evolution. So when education and scientific knowledge made many people in Western culture become dissatisfied with orthodox, dogmatic religion by the 1950s, it was only natural that a segment of the population, still yearning for a spiritual connection, would become attracted to older mystical/spiritual practices from various cultures.

  People were moving from faith in what they were told to believe towards wisdom based on what they could personally experience.

  And that's the context you need to understand factor number two, which is  that the very sound of the didjeridu evokes a primal, subconscious response from people who are at that stage where they are starting to look for a reconnection with their spiritual nature. To put it bluntly, the sonic quality of the didjeridu's drone is VERY reminiscent of the quality of OM, and it actually causes people who are sensitive enough to *experience* something a little (or a lot) mystical in response. This analogy might help: take two tuning forks of the same pitch. Strike one so that it starts ringing, and bring it in close proximity with the other tuning fork that is not ringing. In very short order, the other one will start ringing too, resonating at the same frequency. Sure, you can explain this phenomena with simple physics, but the same basic principle extends into more subtle areas of the psyche and the senses. There's a reason that Bhuddist monks chant the word OM in the way that they do. There's a reason that Gregorian chants have the particular sustained, droning characteristics that they do. There's a reason that Tuvan throatsinging grabs your attention and fascination the way it does. There's a reason that Tibetan horns sound the way they do. There's a reason that Indian instruments like the sitar and tambour have the droning, buzzy qualities that they do. All of these physical sounds are reminiscent of the internal OM that is a fundamental experience of god-awareness. To some varying degree in different people, these sounds all provoke a personal, experiential response of the OM in one's consciousness, similar to how a vibrating tuning fork can induce another tuning fork to vibrate in response. And lo and behold, the sonic qualities of the didjeridu have a LOT in common with all these aforementioned sounds, especially the Tibetan horns which are pretty much just big brass didjeridu.

  So because the sound of the didjeridu naturally evokes a mystical response in the listener, to some degree or another, it really shouldn't surprise any of us that we westerners try to fit the didjeridu and its traditional aboriginal usage and culture into the only mystical context we really have in our contemporary western culture--our own wacky, misinformed blend of things appropriated from other cultures and weird inventions of our own that we can collectively term as "new age."

  As for my personal experience with the didjeridu in this more mystical regard, yes, I do meditate, but not in the new age sense. I'm actually very skeptical of many new age practices and theories and beliefs. I'm more of an "old school" meditator, LOL, based in having a personal teacher open something up in me. I won't say more than that, because in these times such relationships and spiritual practices are very frowned upon by conservative elements so prevalent in our society and government. I don't use the didjeridu formally in any sort of meditation technique, but I notice that playing the didjeridu in a certain manner does effectively calm the mind down quite a bit and can spontaneously throw me into meditation even if I'm not consciously trying to connect to that state. Hmmm. I guess it would help to elaborate just a bit here. It's like this: fast, rhythmic playing that requires a lot of subtle technique (think Yolngu-style playing, or Ash Dargan or Ganga Giri soloing, etc.) also requires your mind to be very focused and analytical and your body to be very active. It's more difficult (but certainly not impossible) to be connected to meditation when the mind and body is very active like this, especially when you're trying to learn new chops and techniques. However, when playing simpler, slower rhythms or when doing "aeroplane-style" droning with long, sung vocalizations, it's practically impossible to NOT get thrown spontaneously into meditation because the sound is so evocative of the OM. This is certainly my personal experience, and everyone I've played for who are also "old-school" meditators have all observed the same thing.

  Most of the time when I play outside of band rehearsals/performances, my purpose is to learn and practice new techniques, especially the harder, faster, rhythmic techniques that I'm trying to adapt and incorporate into my music. But it often happens that I play for a good half hour or more at the very end of the evening, before settling down to meditate, and invariably I wind down the last 5-10 minutes with some slow ambient stuff. It definitely slows down the busy mind and makes it a bit easier to slip deeply into formal meditation.

  It's tricky discussing all this, however, because I don't want to give the wrong impression about something. I must state emphatically that playing the didjeridu will NOT lead you to enlightenment nor teach you how to meditate. That's not how its done. Meditation is something that can only be transmitted person to person, and it takes a lifetime of consistent, devoted practice, which is a very alien and repugnant concept to the western mindset that wants a quick fix for everything. The didjeridu can touch something primal in you, and it can push you a little bit in a certain direction, but it takes a lot more than that to push you over the edge. So please don't walk away from this article thinking that the didjeridu is some magical instrument that induces meditation in all who hear it. It's just a whole lot more complex than that.

  At it's core, the didjeridu is just another musical instrument. In a performance context I don't try to slap a veneer of spirituality or pseudo-tribal-aboriginal-Mutant-Message-Down-Under BS over my didj playing.

 In that context, it's just an instrument, just another tone generator with unique rhythmic possibilities. Sure, its very sonic qualities lends a certain quality to the music that is conducive to the kind of celebratory, trancey, dance-oriented vibe we're trying to create, and I always aspire to be in meditation when I perform, but I let the instrument speak for itself in that regard and touch people at whatever level they can respond to it.

[Ed] In your experience, have you experimented with finishing or treating the inside of the instrument? I have seen aboriginal players dump large amounts of water down the pipe before playing, even seen them soak the entire thing in water and wrap it in a blanket to keep it ready to play. Have you tried soaking your didjeridus to get better tone and had cracking problems as a result? Tell me about your experiences with this and what practices you've developed to get that great sound of a wet didj.

[Eric] This is an area of didjeridu modification/enhancement that is somewhat controversial and probably not well-understood. It was hearing about this practice of watering didjs that made me experiment on my own, which resulted in cracking my first really nice yidaki so badly just before my first real didj performance. There is definitely a noticeable sonic difference when you wet down the inside of a typical hardwood bore that is firmly rooted in physics. The microsurface of the wood affects air friction in a way that noticeably brightens or darkens the overall timbre of a stick.

 Not the large irregularities protrusions and grooves left over from termites, but the actual roughness or smoothness of the wood surface at a much smaller scale. This is part of the reason that yidaki from Northeast Arnhemland generally have a darker, more muffled timbre compared to Western Arnhemland didjeridu. The bores in Yidaki are left relatively unworked compared to Western didjeridu, so much of the bore length has a very rough microsurface.

  Putting water down the bore of a stick has the effect of temporarily polishing the microsurface so that it creates less air friction. This noticeably brightens the timbre of a stick, and adds presence and articulation to vocalizations. If you want to see an excellent, very detailed article on the physics happening inside a didjeridu, including a description of bore polishing and air friction, check out this page by (I believe) a fellow named Nelson Zink:

http://www.navaching.com/shaku/didge.html

 Watering a stick might be a relatively safe practice if you live in Arnhemland and your didjeridu is freshly-made and still essentially green. But once a stick has dried out and been sitting in inventory for a while, as is the case with most sticks we can procure here in the U.S., I think this is a dangerous practice. The good news, however, is that you can achieve exactly the same effect by simply coating your inner bore with something like polyurethane or epoxy resin. Not only does this brighten the stick in a pleasing way (to my ears) and improve vocal presence and articulation, but it has the additional benefit of waterproofing the inside of your stick. Be warned, however, that this practice is not something I would wholeheartedly recommend to everyone, because it *will* change the sound of your stick noticeably. Some people prefer the darker, mellower, more muffled timbre of an untreated traditional yidaki. You might have trouble selling a stick, particularly a "collectable" item, if you've treated the bore in such a fashion. I'm sure some people would want to shoot me for taking my older, classic Djalu and not only stripping and restoring the beat-up paint job and putting an epoxy mouthpiece on it, but also flood-coating the inner bore with Varathane Diamond Finish and protecting the outer paint job with Varathane as well. To some, this would be sacrilege and would lower the value of the instrument significantly if I were ever interested in selling it.

  For me, though, such heretical treatment of a fine traditional instrument has just made an excellent instrument even better. It sounded fantastic before; now it sounds even better to me. I can play it for hours, don't have to worry about temperature and humidity changes as I drag it around between air-conditioned houses, hot and humid outdoor weather, or even hotter and more humid conditions in the back of my truck. I don't have to worry about marring or dinging up my paint job as I pack the stick into a truck full of music gear and set the thing up on a crowded stage. Every one of my hardwood sticks has gotten this Varathane treatment inside and out, and I have never regretted the results; quite the opposite in fact. But your actual mileage may vary, and unlike an epoxy mouthpiece that you can sand off if you don't like it, once you've coated your bore with polyurethane or epoxy resin, you're stuck with the results.

  BTW, I prefer using polyurethane for both interior flood-coating and for exterior protection, because it's much easier to work with (and more forgiving) and I'm slightly allergic to the amine residue that forms on top of cured epoxy. But the conventional wisdom is that epoxy resin is a more durable material for the long term. I spoke with technical representatives at Flecto, the company that makes Varathane, and they say that the worst that excessive moisture could do to Varathane over the long haul is cause it to start looking a little milky and powderish. It shouldn't ever crack or start letting moisture through. They also say that even in that state you can always apply additional coats of Varathane if needed. BTW, if anyone reading this should decide to experiment with Varathane, be sure to use the water-based, *interior* version of Varathane Diamond Finish. Most other polyurethanes are petroleum-based and have nasty stuff in them. The exterior version has UV-filtering agents in it that produce a slight yellowish cast to the cured material, and that's the only difference. In terms of durability and moisture protection there is no advantage to using the exterior version. I also suggest going with the satin finish rather than the glossy finish.

Questions about this and other articles should be sent to Ed Drury