Irirangi (flute, Taonga Puoro)

Irirangi (a meditation) for Flute, Taonga Pūoro and Tape was commissioned by and dedicated to Bridget Douglas and Alistair Fraser.

In Williams Dictionary, under Irirangi, is a quotation originally obtained from Elsdon Best “Mehemea ka waiata tatou ki roto I irirangi tena (If we are singing in the house and a voice is heard singing outside, a spirit-voice, that is Irirangi).” "Te Rangi Hirta remarked casually that the people when singing together often thought they heard a floating voice, or spirit voice singing with them; they called it Irirangi. It was a chance remark but I remembered it when, at Whareponga, I first heard, as it were, a faint voice sounding above the voices of the women singing. I asked Hon. A.T. Ngata wha was present, if the faint voice, to which I drew attention, was what they called Irirangi; he said, Yes; and soon one of the women who also must have heard it, raised her pitch and sang the same note as the faint voice.” (Johannes Anderson) "So too in instrumental music is Irirangi (or rangirua) sought after. My sense is that a range of whistling, multi phonic, drone and overtone sounds were the ones being looked for in this important area of instrument-playing." (Richard Nunns) Thanks to Grant Finlay at naturesounds.co.nz (opening and closing Aroha Island Crickets) Tim Prebble (rain), David Downes (birds), and Dave Whitehead (Pureora dawn chorus).

The bird recordings in this piece are symbolic and functional in a number of ways. In a number of places I found recordings that contribute to the sense of seeking within the piece. In the opening and the ending there are foregrounded bird calls (E natural) surrounded by more distant calls (almost memories of birds) on very faint F#’s. Given the piece is in G, and a lot of the flute's part is around the F and F natural, there is an underlying ‘aspiration' throughout most of the piece of trying to reach home (G) - I equate this, symbolically, to trying to break through the veil between the netherworld/afterlife and the one we live in. This is why I’ve included the word Meditation in the title. I’ve tried to evoke the sense of sitting and listening to the natural world and reaching out from within to hear the hidden voices around us. I've tried to blur the boundaries between the two performers. I was encouraged when Bridget and Alistair both responded with a comment about not being sure who was doing what in the demo recording. For example, after the Taonga Puoro has moved from the stones to the Putorino; the flautist continues playing a busy multi-phonic, which has sonic artefacts that are reminiscent of the stones. It feels like the stones are still being played, or that some of the voice of the stones has entered the flute. I find these moments unique and powerful.

As a composition student in New Zealand in the 1980s I had close enough to zero awareness of the instrumental music of Tangata Whenua. I had witnessed (and participated in) haka and waiata at Onekawa primary school in Napier, thanks to our principal Mr. Stevens, who was Maori and very committed to opening up awareness of all pupils to the history and culture of the inidigenous people of Aotearoa.

Shortly after I graduated, in the early 1990s, a newly formed NZ record label - Rattle Records - released Te Ku te Whe featuring Hirini Melbourne and Richard Nunns. This album impacted significantly (I would say extraordinarily) on the awareness of traditional Maori instruments (which were undergoing a revival at the time).

For me these instruments and sounds and - particularly for me - their stories, history and meaning were incredible to learn about for the first time. Since then, there has been a phenomenal growth in practitioners and artists, instrument makers, collaborations with other musical traditions, and an ever-growing international awareness of Taonga Puoro.

As an outsider to even the European/Pakeha population in New Zealand, engaging and collaborating with Maori artists and Taonga Puoro seemed a doubly-distant possibility. It was really just another way I didn't fit in. Since then, though, I have had four extraordinary experiences, with four unique and unforgettable artists.

The first was with Richard Nunns, one of the pioneers deeply committed to bringing back the sounds of Taonga Puoro. I worked with Richard on the soundtrack to the film White Lies. Then I collaborated with Ariana Tikao (as vocalist) on No Man's Land (you can see Ariana's feature in No Man's Land here).

Then came Irirangi - an invitation from Alistair Fraser and flautist Bridget Douglas to contribute a work to their project which culminated in a tour and an album titled Silver Stone Wood Bone. I had a great day with Bridget and Al at Waitarere Beach and from there created the work. One of the most fascinating moments was when, no matter how I tried, the music I was creating just didn't seem to be in the right space. I created a backdrop of an external (forest) environment, while I was working, to feel the naturalness of the sounds of Alistair's instruments. I then asked Al and Bridget if we could incorporate this environment into the work itself. Which they graciously permitted. It was extraordinary how unnatural the sounds felt away from a natural outdoor environment.

I reworked the piece slightly after the first performance by pulling back the 'climax' - I realised the work didn't need a point of maximum intensity. It was more a 'state' than a trajectory.

The fourth experience I've had was to be with Jerome Kavanagh Poutama in Thessaloniki as he performed a work he co-composed with Salina Fisher, with the Thessaloniki State Symphony Orchestra. The impact on the Greek audience (and the players of the orchestra) was profound.

Taonga Puoro instruments used in this work;

Porotiti

Kakara (dog collar rattle)

Tumutumu Kohatu and Kohatu Mirimiri (stones; basalt from Hauraki & adjalite from

Nelson)

Putorino (Te Kokiri A Te Tane and Putorino - Waiata A Te Hine)

Pakuru (from bird-wing bones)

Pumotomoto

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