At Wednesday night's Hand to Earth show at Sydney's Phoenix Central Park, audiences were told stories dating back more than 40,000 years in a display of expert musicality that no words could do justice to describe.
Wedged between their recent UK-Europe tour and performance at the 25th Biennale of Sydney, quintet Hand to Earth played the entirety of their 2025 album 'Ŋurru Wäŋa' to a packed out show in the heart of Sydney (11 March).
For those who may not be familiar, the group formed in 2016 during an Australian Art Orchestra residency in southern Tasmania. The band features vocalist Daniel Wilfred, his brother David Wilfred (yidaki), Korean-born singer Sunny Kim, trumpeter/ composer Peter Knight, and woodwind virtuoso Aviva Endean.
Daniel sings in language and is the keeper of Yolŋu manikay (songs) from Southeastern Arnhem Land, with their music compared to the likes of Brian Eno and Jon Hassell.
Deep underground, beneath the bustling streets of Chippendale, gentle whispers of fans – both young and old – awaited Hand to Earth to enter the room. The lights fade, and a single spotlight shines on Sunny as she sings the first chords of the album's opening track 'Bush Honey' (guku).
Subtle, sweeping flashes of synthy swirls whoosh behind her as her voice echoes off the room's wooden panels. David emerges from the audience, making his way down the steps as the crowd watches. The focus shifts swiftly as he slowly makes his way around the room, melodically dancing while gazing at everyone who looks.
The slow hum of Aviva's clarinet guides the melody so peacefully. It's as if every element of the song – whether it be Sunny's harmonies, Daniel's lyrics or Peter's electronic ambience – waits its turn.
Image © Ruby Boland / Phoenix Central Park
Sunny begins to gently purr into the microphone, creating a wildly textural soundscape. The song ends with David stomping his foot to the ground and a big (for lack of a better word) "gahhh" from Sunny.
The audience sits in silence, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. Careful hands rise in preparation for applause, but are quickly stopped when Peter reaches for his trumpet, beginning the next song.
The trumpet and clarinet calls start to resonate throughout the room, like two animals circling each other waiting for one to pounce. They start playing the album's third track 'Mäḏawk', with Sunny lightly banging a hand-held drum, David playing the yidaki, and Daniel on the clapping sticks. It sounds almost jazzy as the clarinet rises and falls at a rapid pace.
A trumpet loop breaks a momentary silence, which is altered to almost glitch before Daniel's voice cuts through with great gusto. This song seems like it's telling a story of battle. It feels tense and dangerous, trudging along while gaining speed, the sound getting louder.
Then it stops. Aviva blows gently into the microphone through (what seems to be) a long tube, which sounds like waves crashing. It comes to another crescendo and ends in a big bang! It's at this point the audience finally gains the courage to break the silence with overwhelming applause.
Sunny swirls her drum stick around a singing bowl, introducing the next song, 'The Crow' (wäk wäk). Aviva blows through an instrument I've never seen before; it looks like a small, single-handed clarinet.
Image © Ruby Boland / Phoenix Central Park
David gets up and starts flapping his arms as if he's a bird about to take flight before walking around the room muttering caws into the atmosphere. Daniel joins in with sound that is freakishly similar to that of a crow call. To me, it paints a clear picture of heat emanating off hot ground as crows circle a stranded, fading animal lying on the red dirt.
The next song is my personal favourite 'Gaḏayka', which Daniel says is about a tree. I could feel myself levitating off the ground as Sunny started letting out deep huffs, which were mixed with the persistent hymns spoken by Daniel in language.
The room felt still as the song progressed, until Sunny broke the thick tension with an angelic harmony, which Daniel later joined her in. I felt like dancing, but I couldn't bring myself to move a muscle as they took the audience's attention by the hand and held it gently through tales of long before our time.
"It's a crazy world out there," Sunny says once the song finishes, "but it's through the beauty and power of music that we can connect and feel strong again. The album is titled 'Ŋurru Wäŋa', which means 'coming home'. I know home means many different things, but we've definitely found home in each other."
They proceed to play the title tracks, 'Ŋurru Wäŋa Part 1' and 'Ŋurru Wäŋa Part 2'. It begins with Sunny muttering loving words in her native tongue, Korean, while lightly tapping a singing bowl. Its rings dance around the room.
The lights turn a deep red-orange, a shift from the previous light blue. Daniel sings beautifully over Sunny's spoked word. It creates the most amazing contrast that I doubt would be heard anywhere else.
Image © Ruby Boland / Phoenix Central Park
The trumpet sounds heavenly as it cascades over their competing voices. It's intense and lively. Aviva plays (again, what I believe is) a strange alto clarinet with a tube attached to it.
She waves the tube around in the air, making the most unusual swirling, ambient sound. The slow trudge of the yidaki starts, walking through the song intertwined with the woodwinds.
Sunny's arms spread, flapping, as she subtly screeches into the mic, followed by a voluptuous belt from the heart. Her and David dance in tandem, holding their hands out to each other momentarily, entering the space among the crowd. Daniel's voice then shines through, singing from the top of his lungs.
The song is joyful, a moment of peace. It's almost as if all the creatures depicted in their songs have taken flight to be free. Once Sunny and David re-enter the stage, she lets out a magnificent battle cry while still dancing slowly.
The show finished with a bow accompanied by a two-minute-long standing ovation. I joined in, clapping harder than I think I ever had. If you ever have the chance to see Hand to Earth, I strongly recommend it. It's a show you will never forget.
- written by Oli Goeldner
