Yidaki didgeridoo has been used in every part of Australian regional culture, all around the country. It's become a message stick for the survival of those people, for aboriginal people and aboriginal culture.
I have Aboriginal roots on my father's side, and have always indentified with that spirit. I feel a lot of my music comes from that place.
My dad was a really good surfer, and by the time I was 10, he was dragging me out on some good days at Bells. I'd reckon they were solid, 6-foot days, and he'd tell me to wait on the shoulder. I'd see him coming through the barrel, and he'd just scream at me to go. I'd drop in, and he'd give me a hoot from behind - I've always loved it.
I feel my live shows are my music; everything blossoms from the live shows.
It's kind of like some kind of church for me, playing live. Each show, good people from different pockets of the world come and open their soul and let their spirits mingle and dance. That energy comes up through me, and all I do is channel it; it's like a circular motion and very sacred.
The music industry is not set up well at all, environmentally. But I sing about what I feel, and I'm very inspired by activists and friends that I get to connect with.
Most of my instruments are handmade.
For me, surfing is as close a connection I can have with Mother Nature. To surf, you're riding a pulse of energy from Mother Nature. And it's strong. It's real. It's there. And you're dancing with that. You're connecting with that. You're might be the only person in the history of the universe that connects with that particular pulse of energy.
I love New Zealand and don't get to come there much. The south coast of Australia and New Zealand have a similar vibration, and a lot of the music comes from this kind of space.
