‘Time for warrior mode’: How William Barton got fit – and how it’s helped his music

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to William Barton. The musician and composer, 41, holds two honorary doctorates and is an associate professor at the Australian National University. He has released five albums and is the 2023 Queensland Australian of the Year.

“Back in my 30s, I was considerably overweight: 160, 170 kilograms. I’m like, ‘Okay, it’s time for warrior mode.’”Credit: Keith Saunders

MONEY

You’re a Kalkadunga man who grew up near Mount Isa, Queensland. How was money growing up? There was a fascination with money as this hard-to-reach object. Money was about survival. Our household was just a working-class family: two brothers and one sister. My dad was part of the team that put up telephone poles in the desert and Mum worked at the tribal council cultural centre. We didn’t have anything, but there was always music.

Were you all musical? Music was all around: country and western music on the weekend, catch-ups at the folk club, and our own Indigenous cultural heritage. We have songlines that are many thousands of years old. When you’re around elders, our song-men and song-women, who are singing songs that have been evoking the landscape for that long, it’s a very special energy.

By the age of 12, you were widely regarded as a prodigy and you left school to work as a musician. Did you make money straight away? No – and if there was any, it was given back to my family and community. My first overseas tour was to the US, Canada and Hawaii in 1997 when I was 15; I had my 16th birthday in Edmonton, Alberta. We’re on the local mob’s land – Native Canadians and Native Americans – and I remember them feeding us up at this Italian restaurant. Otherwise, we were living off bagels and cheese spread! That was the wealth for us: connection and being able to live the dream.

BODIES

You’ve lost a significant amount of weight as an adult. Can you tell me about that? Back in my 30s, I was considerably overweight: 160, 170 kilograms. I’m like, “Okay, it’s time for warrior mode.” I was ready to look for love. Also, I wanted to make sure I could look after my mum if I needed to. So amid a hectic national and international touring schedule back in 2018, I gave up alcohol and hired a personal trainer.

How difficult was it? If it was easy, everyone would do it; it’s not easy. But it’s up to me and my mindset, which is: “It’s time to change, and this is where I want to be 10 years from now.” I wanted to be fit, not just for myself but for the next generation – to show them that you can outgrow your shoes as you move along in the world, but that you still have to be grounded and connected. It took a considerable time to give up alcohol and build my endurance. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been back on the 16/8 plan [eating during an eight-hour window before fasting for the next 16 hours], walking 20 kilometres a day and hitting the sauna.

Has it changed your relationship with the didgeridoo and the way you play? I’m pulsing with the spirit of the land, if I’m going to be poetic about it. The human body is such an extraordinary vessel. With my didgeridoo, you have to be fluid: you become the instrument. Your body is about air and energy, so I have greater control over what I want to do now. It’s good for my mindset, too, because my mind knows that my body can cope. Playing certain fast rhythms on the piano or the guitar becomes easier when you’re fit: you’re more in tune with your body. It’s next-level for the didgeridoo.

What’s one word that summarises how you feel about your body now? Powerful.

RELIGION

Did you grow up with religion? Religion was certainly around. Growing up in Mount Isa, we had our friends from New Zealand around the corner, our Maori brothers and sisters. There was religion and sport.

Is there religion in your life now? When my dad passed away, I was 16. He was well-loved in the community and, as an elder, visited all the different churches doing Welcome to Country addresses. Leaders from two different denominations spoke at his funeral. But if religion is about connecting and sharing, I’d say my religion is music.

Tell me more about the relationship between music and spirituality for you. When I go into a place of worship – just for my personal journey, or out of respect when I’m in a European country, in particular – I do have a moment when I think of my people. I feel inspired when I go into a cathedral because I feel the songlines that exist there, too; songlines that are sung in a modern context using the old language of a bygone era.

Do you have any rituals or superstitions before you go out on stage? I acknowledge my ancestors and those who have paved the way. Sometimes I do breathing exercises, or go for a walk to free my mind. And I set a good intention: I think about what I want to do before I go on stage. I go on stage with intent.

Complete this sentence for me: “Other people go to church: I go …” To the horizon where the sun rises – where the sunset meets the new day born.

Oh, that’s beautiful. Is that your line or from something else? Yeah, that’s my line. It’s in a song that I haven’t released yet. That’ll get people talking.

William Barton will perform at the Adelaide Festival on March 16 and at Parliament House, Canberra on April 30.

[e-mail]

To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald, The Age and Brisbane Times.