In our weekly In Case You Missed It (ICYMI) round-up video, we bring you a selection of stories that might have passed you by during the preceding seven days.
This time we visit a “singing” lake, take in a lava fountain and see what some sub-zero divers have dredged up.
Thank you for stopping to visit My Local Pages. We Hope you enjoyed seeing this story about current world news published as “ICYMI: A ‘singing’ lake and a lava fountain”. This post was presented by MyLocalPages as part of our news aggregator services.
This article originally appeared on a new site about the Christian renaissance in Russia, called Russian Faith. Their introductory video is at end of this article.
The all-girl singing group called “Beloe Zlato” (literally “White Gold”) was started accidentally by a few girls with a love for old, traditional Russian music. They were then studying music in the city of Norilsk, found above the Arctic circle.
It caught on like wildfire. They now have a large following and are often invited to perform, especially at Christian, patriotic, and family events.
They sing old songs in more modern arrangements, retaining the haunting quality of folk Russian music.
They are also famous for singing in random places, like park benches and trains.
ARUNDEL, U.K. —
The 23 cloistered nuns of Poor Clares of Arundel in England’s south coast have seen camera gear before. A few years ago, an all-female BBC crew stayed with them for six weeks to document their lives.
For the past week, it’s their record label that’s been dealing with the media. Yes, their record label.
They always enjoyed singing their hymns and medieval texts but never thought they were exceptionally good. Decca Records thought otherwise and as it turns out, they’re not alone.
Recorded on the even of the first lockdown, their album “Light of the World” has topped U.K. music charts, and on one chart, reached #2, behind only The Boss, Bruce Springsteen.
You don’t have to believe in God to appreciate their music. It’s soothing, peaceful and an escape from the relentless stream of bad news.
Throughout the pandemic, people have called the convent to ask for advice on how to deal with the isolation. Sister Gabriel’s advice? She says you can feel lonely even when you’re in a crowd. You have to find something positive, and there is always something positive, she insists.
The “original isolators” as the record label calls them are having an easier time with COVID-19 restrictions than the rest of us: absolutely nothing in their lifestyle has changed. While they can’t accept visitors for the time being, they still wake up at 5:30 a.m. to pray, work and lead life that shocks many, says Sister Geraldine, because of the “radicality of their commitment.”
The hardest part, they say, is not attending family events like baptisms or weddings. Does it get easier with time? The answer is a quick and simple “no” from both Sisters Gabriel & Geraldine.
Their family is each other. They read the newspaper every morning, listen to the radio, and occasionally watch TV when there is a big live news event. The last time Sister Geraldine, who was born in France, watched TV was when the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral was on fire. Netflix is not a word they are familiar with and wine? Yes! Occasionally. They also Skype with loved ones.
The shoot almost over, they fixed their veils and collars, “even nuns like to look smart” quipped Sister Gabriel.
They were supposed to spark laughter, not outrage. But the Coodabeen Champions ABC debut in 1988 didn’t quite follow the script.
After seven years on community radio, Triple R, in Melbourne, building a loyal audience, the Coodabeens secured a coveted slot for their Saturday morning footy show on the national broadcaster.
When their first program went to air, the switchboard lit up.
“We didn’t realise this at the time — Clarke Hansen (ABC executive producer of sport and broadcaster) who got us across protected us from it — but there were 300 complaints,” recalls Coodabeens co-founder Jeff Richardson.
“And there were complaints coming internally as well, one member of the sport team went into Clarke’s office and said, ‘Get these blokes off air’!
“But Clarke, to our eternal gratitude, stuck by his guns — he liked what we did and wanted us on air.”
But what could possibly have been so offensive about a radio show that consists of a bunch of mates talking, joking and singing about footy?
“I think it was because our show was just so different,” says Richardson.
“Nowadays, it probably doesn’t seem very different because we’ve had decades now of people being “funny” about the football, but back then no-one was.
“What we did was obviously unstructured, obviously unscripted, and totally not in the mould of the way football pre-game coverage usually sounded so, for people who weren’t used to it, it must have sounded quite shocking and amateurish.”
But the Coodabeens had the last laugh, broadcasting on the ABC for seven years, then moving to commercial station 3AW for a decade and returning to the ABC in 2003, where they remain popular.
Over the years, on the ABC, they also hosted a national Sunday night radio show, a travel-based program, The Idlers, and for a decade presented the national broadcast of the New Year’s Eve countdown to midnight from Hobart.
They’ve twice featured in the on-ground entertainment at the AFL grand final (more on that later), are revered in the Melbourne Cricket Club (MCC) Media Hall of Fame and have travelled the country, staging countless outside broadcasts, including a popular OB from the MCG on grand final morning, and sell-out community shows.
2020 marks a remarkable 40 years on air, during which they’ve become an integral part of Victoria’s football culture.
“I still sort of pinch myself when I go into the Media Hall of Fame at the MCG and we’re up there.
“I look at it and think, ‘That’s not real, is it?’
“Given some of the other names that are up on that board, I just feel very humbled.
“Shows come and go, and the fact that we’ve been able to keep doing it as long as we have — it’s sort of a little miracle, and really pleasing.”
The conversation that launched the Coodabeens
They weren’t chasing a media career — the Coodabeens was born out of their frustration as passionate footy fans.
It was Anzac Day 1981 and 20-something mates Jeff Richardson, a teacher, and Simon Whelan, a lawyer, were driving to the MCG listening to the pre-match programs on the radio and finding it all a bit dull and cliched.
“As we walked into the MCG we were saying, we’re going into the standing room [area] and we’re going to hear people in the crowd with as much, or more, insight into what’s going on as we just heard on the radio — and delivering it with much more wit, entertainment and intelligence — and we thought that there’s got to be some way to capture that and get that on to the airwaves,” says Richardson.
So, they rang up a contact at Triple R and were on air the following Saturday.
There was barely any planning, it was to be (and still is) as spontaneous as possible, and they did the show around their ‘real’ jobs.
There was no formal auditioning of new members. Over the course of those first few footy seasons, a casual parade of friends and friends-of-friends simply wandered in and out of the studio.
Among the core group that formed in the early days was Billy Baxter, who came up with their name based on a line from one of his favourite films, On The Waterfront, in which Marlon Brando says: ‘I coulda been something, I could’ve a contender’, and his mate from high school, Ian Cover.
“Some people came and went, and I had no idea who they were,” recalls Cover, who was then a football journalist with the Geelong Advertiser and went on to become a member of the Victorian Parliament.
“It was a bit chaotic in the studio, there were only two microphones and there’d be sometimes six or eight people squashed around the desk.
“There wasn’t much room to move and you had to sort of elbow someone out the way to lean in to get onto the microphone to say something.”
Forty years, thousands of songs
A couple of years after the Coodabeens started, Adelaide-born musician and songwriter Greg Champion joined the crew, and his talent for writing parodies was a hit with the audience and the rest of the team.
His first musical segment began with ‘The answer my friend is like kicking into the wind’, to the tune of Bob Dylan’s Blowin’ In The Wind and, over almost four decades, Champion estimates he’s performed about 3,500 songs — written by himself and enthusiastic listeners — and released at least a dozen football CDs.
He wrote an original song, That’s The Thing About Football, that became a much-loved footy anthem when Channel 7 used it as the opening theme for its Friday night footy coverage in the mid-90s and continues to inspire a crowd singalong at the end of their grand final shows.
Other hits included the catchy I’m DiPierdomenico (to the old English music hall song I’m Henry the Eighth I Am) about the likeable Hawthorn champion, Robert DiPierdomenico, and an original song about the team’s hard man Dermott Brereton, titled Dermott Brereton is a Hood.
“Dermott’s got a very good sense of humour and he said to me that it doesn’t matter what they’re singing as long as they’re singing about you.”
While both players got a laugh out of it, some of the Hawthorn bosses didn’t find the Dermie song so amusing, particularly when the Coodabeens were scheduled to perform at the 1987 grand final in which Hawthorn was playing.
“I very naively thought I would ring the Hawthorn Footy Club to get Dermie’s permission to play Dermott Brereton is a Hood at half-time,” recalls Champion.
“And Alan Joyce, the football manager, comes on and says, ‘You’re not doing that at the Grand Final’.
“I rang the boss of the league, Ross Oakley — in those days you could ring the boss and get straight through — and he said to leave it with him.
“Two weeks later, I rang him back and he said, ‘You’re not doing it, if Dermie knocks someone out in the first five minutes and you play that at half-time there’ll be a riot,’ and it was hard to argue with that.”
For knockabout blokes who worshipped footy and did a show on community radio in their spare time, performing at the grand final before 100,000 people at the MCG was a massive thrill.
When league boss Ross Oakley said he couldn’t pay them, they cheekily asked for a limo to get them to the game and expected a couple of taxi dockets.
To their surprise, a limo was dispatched, hovercrafts ferried them onto the ground and they sang three songs — none of which triggered a riot.
“It was a really special thing,” says Cover.
“We’d invented this radio show six years earlier and here we were now out in the middle of the MCG.
Tony’s Talkback and how we fooled Harry Beitzel
In the 1980s, Harry Beitzel was a giant of football commentary on 3AW.
His Saturday afternoon game coverage concluded with a talkback segment called Slather and Whack in which the Coodabeens, who then had another show that followed Beitzel’s, saw plenty of comic potential.
“We heard these people talking to Harry and were thinking you can’t write this stuff, it was really funny,” says Cover.
“There was a Collingwood supporter who came on and said, ‘Look, Harry, I never complain about the umpires but in the third quarter Ricky Barham had the ball and he got penalised and it cost us the game …..’ and someone said why don’t we come on and say exactly what these people are saying, we get a phone and put on a funny voice.
“Tony Leonard said he’d take the calls, so we immediately called it ‘Tony’s Talkback’ [now Footy Talkback with Jeff ‘Torch’ McGee after Leonard, now a respected football commentator, left in 2003].
“The show begins, Richo says there’s some calls left over from Slather and Whack, and Tony says ‘Go ahead, you’re talking to Tony’.
“A voice says: ‘Hello, Tony, It’s Digger here’ and Tony says, ‘Who do you barrack for?’
“‘Collingwood,’ says the voice.
“‘How long have you barracked for Collingwood, Digger?’ ‘137 years!’ says the voice.
“‘Have you got a football question?’ Tony asks.
“And ‘Digger’ says: ‘I never complain about the umpires but in the third quarter….’ and it went from there with all these characters getting lives of their own.”
Digger, Pearl from the Peninsula, Stan the Statistician, Ivan from Ivanhoe, Massive from Moorabbin, Peter from Peterborough, Helen from Healesville … the list goes on.
Despite the hilarious and outrageous things the ‘callers’ say, there’ve been plenty of listeners — and the odd broadcaster — over the years who think they’re real people.
“Harry Beitzel said to me one day, ‘I’ve been listening to your show, it’s sounding good.’
“And I knew it was working because we’d fooled Harry,” laughs Cover.
“Another day, I was in the outer at Geelong around the late 80s and a bloke I’d been to school with, who I thought had a modicum of intelligence, said to me, ‘Hey Cove, that talkback segment on your show, I’ve been ringing up and I can’t get on, the same people get on all the time, what’s going on?’
“And I said, ‘They probably all have the talkback number on speed dial and as soon as they hear it’s coming up they hit the speed dial’ and he said, ‘Oh yeah, that bloody speed dial.'”
The fans they haven’t fooled always want to know who plays who, but the Coodabeens like to keep them guessing.
Coincidentally, this year’s return of Simon Whelan after a 16-year absence while serving as a Supreme Court judge seems to have inspired the long-silenced Digger to pick up the phone again.
And while the Coodabeens have been amazed at how listeners have been taken in by the talkback segment, Ian Cover admits the characters have become so familiar that, at times, even he feels like they actually exist.
“It’s a funny thing, you know, we’ve done the talkback for more than 30 years, our characters are still the same and, to me, they are all real,” he says.
“When it’s your turn I feel like I just become that person for two minutes of the phone call and when it’s all over, I imagine that person still being out there somewhere. It’s weird.”
Three generations of fans
Laraine Rodriquez is a huge footy fan and passionate Melbourne supporter who has been listening to the Coodabeens since the late 80s.
“Once I started listening, I was hooked,” recalls Laraine.
“If I couldn’t listen ‘live’ on Saturday morning I would record it on my radio/cassette player and listen later — either at home or on my cassette player in the car.
“I do remember buying The Coodabeens Big Bumper Footy Book (published in 1990) and laughing throughout most of it.
“I still pick it up at times and continue to laugh, even though some of the information is dated.”
Laraine has been a regular at the outside broadcasts at AFL finals and on grand final morning since the mid-90s, and been interviewed on the show several times.
“In 1994, [with Melbourne in the finals], I was wearing all my Demon gear and I copped some good-natured ribbing about having a red and blue crocheted rug, thus fitting their (and others’) stereotypical image of a Melbourne supporter.
“We had quite a conversation and I received a prize for being a good sport,” she says.
Laraine Rodriquez says the “magic” of the Coodabeens is their interest in the “whole” of football — footballers who played a handful of games, not just the big names, as well as those from country, suburban and women’s leagues.
In fact, the show featured female footballers decades before the AFLW was established.
“I think the Coodabeens appeal to all listeners because they are so inclusive, their style of humour never alienates anyone because it is such good, clean, clever fun.
“As a Melbourne supporter (who has never seen snow anywhere in Australia!), I fume when I hear constant references to Melbourne supporters going to the snow instead of the football.
“Yet when the Coodabeens put Demon fans and snow in the same sentence, the way they do it makes me laugh and I am not one bit offended.
“Long may the Coodabeens continue!”
That they tapped into something that has resonated with footy fans for so long is both surprising and hugely rewarding for the team.
“Not only do we have first-generation listeners, there are also third-generation listeners,” says Cover.
“A lot of people have said to us along the way, ‘Dad used to make us listen to you in the car, and we had no idea what you were going on about, then we got into it and now I’ve got my kids listening.’
“When you reflect on that, there’s a sense of accomplishment that you’ve created something that as well as having longevity has been enjoyed by so many people.”
“Some people have used the term the ‘Rolling Stones of radio’ [to describe us] and I see the parallels,” quips Champion.
“Not that I’m equating us with the Rolling Stones, but there’s the 40 years thing and the longer it goes the harder it is to consider leaving.
They’ve particularly loved taking the show on the road.
“The Coodabeens have done hundreds and hundreds of regional gigs, in Victoria and across the borders, and it’s been a wonderful, wonderful journey playing in the bush and connecting with the people,” says Champion.
“That’s where people tell you what their ABC and their Coodabeens mean to them, how important the Coodabeens and the ABC are to them, and that drives home what a privileged and special position we’re in.”
Still kicking goals
For their 40th year, they’ve published a book, 40 Footy Seasons, that features tales from the core group and many other contributors who’ve come and gone over the years.
While much has remained the same and nostalgia is a big part of their appeal, they’ve also moved with the times, recruiting producer ‘Young Andy’ Bellairs, one of those ‘kids’ who grew up listening to the show in the car, introducing new segments and embracing social media.
COVID-19 has torpedoed their outside broadcasts, community shows and a proposal to appear in this year’s grand final entertainment, but they’re live-streaming part of their GF show and feel lucky to have been able to remain on air.
“Just because of the amount of correspondence we’ve had from people making the comment that in these difficult, unprecedented times, the fact that we’ve been on has provided a bit of normality amongst all the craziness.
“Greg’s had double the song contributions this year and the social media question has had more responses every week than it’s had in the past.
“Driving up from Barwon Heads [when the first lockdown began] I really felt that I wasn’t just going in to do the show as normal, I felt, without sounding too over the top, a sense of responsibility that we had a job to do to entertain people, to cheer them up, to be there.”
With all but Young Andy now aged in their 60s and 70s, the question is how much longer will the Coodabeen Champions be there?
To quote one of those footy cliches they love to make fun of, they’re taking it one week at a time.
“I’ll be happy to get to next Saturday, I don’t think any further ahead than that,” laughs Jeff Richardson.
Listen to the Coodabeen Champions grand final day broadcast from 10:00am on October 24 on ABC Radio Melbourne and around Victoria, ABC Listen or wherever you get your podcasts
The New Guinea Singing Dog, a dingo-like animal with a unique howling style, was considered extinct in the wild. But scientists reported Monday that the dogs live on, based on DNA collected by an intrepid and indefatigable field researcher.
Their analysis, published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, showed that the dogs are not simply common village dogs that decided to try their chances in the wild. The findings not only solve a persistent, though obscure puzzle, they may shed light on the complicated and still emerging picture of dog domestication in Asia and Oceania.
James McIntyre, president of the New Guinea Highland Wild Dog Foundation and the researcher whose forays in the field were central to the discovery, first searched for New Guinea Singing Dogs in the forbiddingly rugged highlands of the island, which is split between Indonesia and Papua New Guinea, in 1996. He was taking a break from studying intersex pigs in Vanuatu, but that’s another story. Mr. McIntyre has degrees in zoology and education, and has worked at the Bronx Zoo and other zoos, private conservation organizations and as a high school biology teacher.
There are highly inbred populations of the dogs in zoos, and some are kept as exotic pets. But for more than a half-century they remained elusive in the wild until 2012 when an ecotourism guide snapped a photo of a wild dog in the highlands of Indonesia’s Papua province. It was the first seen since the 1950s, and Mr. McIntyre set to work. He received some funding from a mining company, PT Freeport Indonesia. The company, which has a history of conflict with the local population over environmental and safety issues and murky connections to the Indonesian military, operates a gold mine in the highlands near the wild dog sightings. In 2016 he spent about a month searching and captured 149 photos of 15 individual dogs.
“The locals called them the Highland wild dog,” he said. “The New Guinea Singing Dog was the name developed by Caucasians. Because I didn’t know what they were, I just called them the Highland wild dogs.”
But whether they were really the wild singing dogs that had been considered extinct was the big question. Even the singing dogs kept in captivity were a conundrum to scientists who couldn’t decide whether they were a breed, a species or a subspecies. Were these wild dogs the same as the captive population? Or were they village dogs gone feral recently?
In 2018, Mr. McIntyre went back to Papua and managed to get DNA from two trapped wild dogs, quickly released after biological samples were taken, as well as one other dog that was found dead. He brought the DNA to researchers who concluded that the highland dogs Mr. McIntyre found are not village dogs, but appear to belong to the ancestral line from which the singing dogs descended.
“For decades we’ve though that the New Guinea singing dog is extinct in the wild,” said Heidi G. Parker of the National Institutes of Health, who worked with Suriani Surbakti and other researchers from Indonesia and other countries on analyzing the DNA samples that Mr. McIntyre returned.
“They are not extinct,” Dr. Parker said. “They actually do still exist in the wild.”
The highland dogs had about 72 percent of their genes in common with their captive singing cousins. The highland dogs had much more genetic variation, which would be expected for a wild population. The captive dogs in conservation centers all descend from seven or eight wild ancestors.
The 28 percent difference between the wild and captive varieties may come from some interbreeding with village dogs or from the common ancestor of all the dogs brought to Oceania. The captive, inbred dogs may simply have lost a lot of the variation that the wild dogs have.
Their genes could help reinvigorate the captive population of a few hundred animals in conservation centers, which are very inbred.
Elaine A. Ostrander of the N.I.H., a co-author of the report, says the finding is also significant for understanding more about dog domestication. The New Guinea Singing Dogs are closely related to Australian dingoes and are also related to the Asian dogs that migrated with humans to Oceania 3,500 years ago or more. It may be that the singing dogs split off around then from a common ancestor that later gave rise to breeds like the Akita and Shiba Inu.
“They provide this missing piece that we didn’t really have before,” Dr. Ostrander said.
Laurent Frantz, an evolutionary geneticist at Queen Mary University of London who studies the domestication and evolution of dogs and was not involved in the research, said, the paper makes clear “that these populations have been continuous for a long time.”
But exactly when and where the dogs became feral and “what is wild, what is domestic” are still thorny questions, which the new data will help to address.
Mr. McIntyre did finish his work on the intersex pigs of Vanuatu, by the way, and you can find out more at the website of the Southwest Pacific Research Project. They are bred on purpose because they are highly valued by islanders.