Reviver of traditional instruments
Richard Nunns musician b Napier, December 7, 1945 d Nelson, June 7, 2021
Richard Nunns, who pioneered and inspired the contemporary flourishing of taonga pūoro, traditional Māori music instruments, has died aged 75. Richard worked for decades with singer-composer Hirini Melbourne, and carver-instrument maker Brian Flintoff, in a shared quest to discover the sounds and context of that long-silenced music of Aotearoa New Zealand.
A Pākehā of Scandinavian descent, Richard had exceptional skill as a player of wind instruments, dating from his young days as a jazz muso in Matamata, where he attended college. He played trumpet and flute with flair, could cover Coltrane and The Beatles, and play native birdsong on a blade of grass.
After university studies and teachertraining, Richard met and married Rachel Bush. With their two daughters, Lucy and Molly, the family moved to Nelson, where Richard taught at Nelson College for Girls, as also did Rachel after some years.
Rachel wrote and published four volumes of poems, while Richard, intrigued by taonga pūoro instruments, began his search to discover what voices they might once have had. That those instruments are now heard widely – on marae, in schools and music departments, in theatres, on radio, in films, in concerts, compositions, recordings and publications, at tangi and memorial gatherings – is in large measure due to Richard’s indefatigable leadership and commitment.
He travelled abroad, to search for taonga pūoro in museums, to measure, weigh and play them. He worked closely with Flintoff, who studied then made new instruments after those models. Together with Melbourne, they taught hundreds of New Zealand children how to carve kōauau from wood or bone, then to play them – a tidal wave that continues to rise.
Richard loved recounting the story from a workshop in a Ruato¯ ria school, when the teacher was approached by a pupil who whispered, ‘‘Hey Miss, that Ma¯ ori fella up there on the stage, he’s a Pa¯ keha¯ .’’ That tale caught much of the resonance of Richard’s life’s work.
Dame Gillian Whitehead, in her 2019 Lilburn Lecture at the Turnbull Library, The Breath of Birds, details the beginnings of Richard’s and Hirini’s explorations and experiments of taonga pūoro and incorporation of those sounds into early works by New Zealand composers. She recounted Jack Body telling her that, towards the end of his life, composer Douglas Lilburn heard the music of Melbourne and Nunns, on Rattle Records’ CD Te Ku Te Whe, and burst into tears, saying: ‘‘This is the music I have waited all my life to hear.’’
The pūmotomoto was traditionally played into the fontanelle of a baby, to impart waiata and tribal knowledge into the child’s forming spirit. Richard would play several times over the belly of a pregnant woman, or over a newborn infant, as he did with my first grandchild.
He stood at Gallipoli on a number of Anzac Day gatherings and played laments on the country’s behalf. He performed extensively at home and abroad in collaborations with flute players Alexa Still and Bridget Douglas, with New Zealand String Quartet, New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, and with Robert Oliver’s choir at St Mary of the Angels singing Gregorian chant.
He played intuitively, not from scores, but composers were aware of that before they embarked on any composition, and he was not a man to change his ways without good cause. His early collaborations with saxophonist Jeff Henderson involved improvisations that would have fazed many, but not each other.
He was an inspirational teacher, a kind and caring man with a ready sense of humour, hugely knowledgeable about literature, a much-loved and respected colleague and friend to many. Philip Simpson, author of landmark books on New Zealand native trees, wrote of Richard: ‘‘He had such a presence, like a grove of tree ferns.’’
Richard worked with Allan Thomas on material for the book, Te Ara Pūoro (published by the intrepid Robbie Burton of Potton & Burton). The history and provenance of each instrument is traced, with ample illustrations, and with contextual references to the materials sourced from the flora and fauna that were all part of the same ‘‘natural world of the Ma¯ ori’’. Both Richard and Allan shared lifelong interests in the geology, botany, biology and ornithology of that world, and could integrate their understanding of music into its environment. Despite his own declining health, Richard played ko¯ auau at Allan’s vigil and funeral in 2010, a poignant experience.
Radio NZ has an extensive archive of Richard playing many instruments, SOUNZ has a comprehensive listing of his work, Rattle has a long list of his published recordings. He was made a laureate of the Arts Foundation, was awarded a Queen’s Service Medal, and an honorary doctorate by Victoria University. In 2014, Paul Wolffram made a superb documentary, Voices of the Land, with Horomona Horo helping to capture Richard’s work, his thinking, his humour, wit and whimsy.
Richard loved the absurdity in situations going awry, but deftly avoided anyone he found pretentious. He was a voracious reader, and he would re-read many books numerous times. His gifts of language must have inspired generations of pupils at Nelson College for Girls.
For years, he and Rachel would wake, well before dawn, read in bed for a while, then walk up the nearby hill known as the Centre of New Zealand. The view from up there is far-reaching and, in their respective work, they each followed where it beckoned them.
Wellington artist Gerard Crewdson dedicated his recent exhibition at The Pyramid Club to ‘‘friend and mentor Richard Nunns – on his own difficult lonesome journey’’. Many years of Parkinson’s disease may have slowly and cruelly silenced Richard, but we all remember his exquisite playing, and there are countless people he mentored who will ensure this music is never lost.
Rachel died in 2016. Richard is survived by daughters Lucy and Molly, five grandchildren, and two brothers and a sister.