Creating a Global iwi: New Releases from Moana Maniapoto and Fat Freddy’s Drop

ENE of Moana and the tribe

If there was any criticism of albums by Moana Maniapoto (Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Arawa), it might be for the stylistic diversity she brought, initially with the Moahunters, then with 2003’s Tribe.

Spoken word, lullaby waiata, political messages, thumping grooves, rap and reggae
appeared on albums where taonga puoro sat alongside popular soul and te reo Māori was unashamedly at the forefront in a unique amalgam of haka-dub and trip-hop consciousness.

Ironically then, Ono – her sixth, featuring various indigenous artists from the global village – is the most sonically coherent and integrated of the tribe.

That’s largely thanks to Paddy Free (of Pitch Black), an integral member of the Tribe, who gave electronic punch to songs like the exceptional The whole world is watching on the previous album Rima.

It’s been ten years Rima. Beyond the logistics of recording far-flung artists who shared the issue of their endangered language, music took a back seat to social and political imperatives in Maniapoto’s award-winning current affairs program Te Ao with Moana on Whakaata Māori.

But Ono It’s been worth the wait because, aside from co-producer Free’s integrated sound across six moving pieces, the artists’ voices blend so seamlessly with Maniapoto’s.

With songwriting collaborator and te reo Māori consultant Scotty Morrison (Te Arawa), Maniapoto Ono to “all the disruptors, visionaries and transformers who fought to keep our languages ​​alive.”

Aio Ana featuring Sámi singer Mari Boine – who first met Maniapoto at a Taranaki Womad festival – sets a meditative tone of spiritual lament over a subtle pulsating rhythm; Huakirangi is sung in te reo and Gadigal with Aboriginal singer and language researcher Shellie Morris. It adopts an increasingly powerful reggaelope and angular dubadelic accents; Toku Reo finds common ground between the yearning voice of native Taiwanese singer Inka Mbing, the distinctive voice of Maniapoto and the authoritative depth of Morrison.

Hawaii’s Kaumakaiwa brings a sharp mystery to Free’s wobbly, dubby echoes Atahu and the most unexpectedly successful collaboration is the Scottish Megan Henderson of the band Breabach who are rising in Gaelic Maiea with Morrison’s dark, singing counterpoint.

A highlight is the electrifying urgency of Jani Lauzon of Canada’s First Nation people Tuthat radiates through centuries and cultures.

Ono is – important messages aside – an unusually catchy album with dub electronica and world music. I can’t wait for Paddy’s remixes.

SLO-MO from Fat Freddy’s Drop

Fat Freddy’s Drop comes in with more of their well-executed, familiar soul-funk-dub-jazz sound for the summer. The single Next stop is indistinguishable and the title of this eighth album does not indicate any surprises from these quiet guys.

Nothing is lyrically profound (“come together,” “hold your head up,” “leave your lights on”) and the sentiment on the reworked Avengers about escaping after the lockdown (“I’m getting to work”) feels redundant but, as expected, cruisy.

A professional and reassuring slice of the band’s signature sound (the funky eight-minute title track featuring Louis Baker), some of which is made neatly psychedelic (Oldemos), light West African (Roland) and dubbed (To the sea). A sound tailor-made for lazy, complacent, undemanding days.

Ono is available digitally and on vinyl; Slo-Mo now on CD and double vinyl and digitally from November 8.